Page 20 of Broken Queen
“Why’d you leave that note?” I asked.
“What note?”
I slapped the latch and let the top of the head hole lock into place.
“Who are you using to fuck with me?” I asked. “I know a game when I see one, love. I play them myself.”
She pursed her lips together, but there was something there: a hint of confusion. Something that told me that she didn’t know about any note, but she was amused that I was threatening to chop off her head just to get more information about it.
“I’d love to know who’s fucking with you, but I don’t,” she said. “What did the note say?”
Her eyes were blue and full of madness that she kept tucked inside of a cage, chaos swirling like a bomb about to ignite. Her eyelids fluttered, desire oozing through her gaze. I rearranged myself, pressing her knees apart with my legs, giving me a glimpse underneath her dress.
Her pink pussy, covered in short hair. Glossy with need. She wasn’t wearing any underwear.
Such a greedy little cunt.
“Were you masturbating, slut?” I said, my voice hoarse with lust. “Or is this a show for me?”
“What’s the most disappointing answer?” she asked.
There was a wink in her expression. She was toying with me. Always ahead. She wasn’t easy to mold or break, and I loved it. I slid my fingers down to her knees and she snarled.
“I’m married,” she said, but the desire flamed in her eyes.
“Tell me you don’t want to play. Lie to me. Beg me like a little queen should. Say those words, and I’ll stop.”
“Get your hands off of me or I’ll cut you,” she snarled.
I studied her for a second. She was telling the truth, but I wanted to test her.
“Do you always skip the panties?” I asked. I rubbed her knee, then straddled the bench too. She was so close, lying down on the bench like that, her head locked into the hole, that all it would take was a little maneuvering, and my dick would be deep inside of her. “You like feeling exposed like that?”
“It’s easier that way,” she said.
“What is?”
“They can just fuck me and stop wasting my time,” she hissed. “Are you going to be like them too?”
A tightness filled my chest as I looked down at her. She was serious. She didn’t wear panties, and must have constantly worn dresses, so that ‘they’ could rape her, and she saw it as a waste of time. That’s how numb she was. She didn’t want pity; she wanted control.
I let go of her knees, then stood up, reaching for the head hole’s latch. I wanted Zira, but I wasn’t a rapist. My sister had lived in a place like this for years, and that made my insides crawl, thinking about her like that. Not fighting. Letting them take what they wanted so they’d stop wasting her time.
But as soon as I lifted the latch, Zira pulled a knife from under the bench and struck toward my face. It barely drew a white line in the skin of my neck, but I grabbed her wrists, holding her there. We panted in heat.
God, I loved a woman with fire in her veins. I may not have been on my knees, but my dick worshiped every inch of her.
“Explain it to me, my queen,” I said. “I’m not quite sure a peasant like me can understand. You’re loyal to a man you don’t live with. A man who fucks other women. A man who didn’t even stick up for you when it came to your spot in this secret society. Why?”
“I’m not loyal to him,” she huffed. “I’m loyal to what I want.”
It wasn’t about him, then. It was about something much bigger than a marriage. I let go of her wrist. She straightened, then fixed her dress.
“What did the note say?” she asked again, curiosity brimming in her eyes. She truly didn’t know.
“The note mentioned my sister,” I explained. “She disappeared, and I’ve been told she came to the Marked Blooms Syndicate.”
Zira smiled, but it wasn’t genuine. She was mocking me.
