Page 71 of Tangwystle
They had already made several faces at one another during this time. I put up with it because I didn’t care if they thought I was ridiculous. Blackwell Manor’s masquerade ball would be perfect.
“You’ve done marvelous fairy,” Baz told me, stepping closer. “You’re a credit to this Manor. Let me finish the last final things. Go ahead and get ready.”
I’m certain he meant it as a kindness, but I wrinkled my nose.
Baz laughed at that. “I’m not completely useless, you know. I can at the very least bring the food out.”
“There’s so much.” I nibbled on my lip. “And you need to get ready too.”
Nobody cared about my state of appearance. So long as my black dress blended in, I’d be no more than the furniture. A servant scurrying about, all in the hopes that everything went off without a hitch.
Baz brushed my hair back, tucking it behind my ear. “Go and get ready, fairy. That’s an order.”
I frowned, but I couldn’t say anything else. Taking one last look at the star-filled room, I departed for the stairs.
“Go and help her, pet,” Baz added. Dutifully, Gretel followed.
“I’ll run a bath,” Gretel suggested when we got to the room.
“We have to be quick,” I said, pulling open the wardrobe.
“We will be,” Gretel promised, the tub already filling. She loved to lounge in the bathtub, but while I agreed with the need to wash away sweat and flour thanks to my baking, we needed to hurry. I didn’t doubt, with all the anticipation I’d seen the last few days, that people would arrive earlier than expected.
Gretel tore off her dress, her tall, lithe body so much healthier than when she’d first arrived.
“Come on, Wystle.” She held out her hand, fingers wiggling as she beckoned me.
I had grabbed towels because, of course, she hadn’t thought about the practical things.
Only when I set them on the vanity and made sure we had a jar of soap, did I strip off my dress. Gretel, settling into the tub, licked her lips as she watched me.
“I normally sit there,” I told her.
“It’s okay just for once,” she said, settling me so my back was to her chest. Her arms curled around me, pulling me impossibly close.
“We don’t have time,” I warned.
Her fingers skimmed the sides of my breasts.
“Gretel,” I warned.
She pulled me back, her pussy rubbing into me. Her hands lowered, the water rippling.
“Gretel,” I warned again, then hissed under my breath. “What are you doing?”
Her fingers explored my folds, running down the seam. She parted me, and if it wasn’t for her hold on me, I might have jumped out of the tub.
But honestly, who was I kidding? My head leaned against her shoulder, my back arching. I ached for her and Baz all the time. I’d take whatever I could get because I was just as much of a needy slut as I proclaimed Gretel to be.
Her finger worked in and out of me, building me up. I wanted more of her. More pleasure and pain. I waited impatiently for her thumb to press my clit. But while she faintly traced it, the pressure didn’t build.
“Gretel!” I grumbled as I rocked against her.
Her hand slipped away from me, and I swear to the stars, I growled.
Water splattered over the tub, I whirled around so fast.
“I’m sorry!” Her cheeks were red, and she held her hands up in surrender. “Baz told me I could only work you up. But you can’t come yet.”
