Page 8 of Love, Laugh, Lich

“I’m sorry I messed up, and wasted the first kiss yesterday,” I say, feeling that wholeheartedly. I hadn’t realized what I’d been feeling then, and I’d blundered on through because I couldn’t make sense of it. But I understand myself better now. I know what I’m craving, and I know it won’t end on its own. “Would you let me try again?”

My declaration is met with hesitation. Soven turns his eyes on me, assessing me as his gaze sweeps up and down.

“I value the loyalty you’ve shown me,” he murmurs at long last, his answer one of utmost diplomacy. “But I would not ask to overstay your generosity.”

The formality of his words nearly bruises me, but I catch the interest in his eye, the patient waiting in his expression.

He knows he can’t ask anything more of me. He knows anything he asks of anyone will always be met with resounding choruses of ‘Yes, my lord’, bowing and scraping included.

Anything to do with me, it has to be given freely. I chew my bottom lip, my determination setting in.

“My Dark Lord,” I say, holding his golden gaze. “I always fix my mistakes.”

He gazes back at me, curiosity setting in.

With a flick of his fingers, the ritual floor lights anew, ready for me.

I cross the sanctum to sit on the altar, but unlike before, I don’t lay back. My skin feels tingly just being here, and I know it’s the magic of the circle, mixing with my own nerves. If I hesitate at all, I’ll lose my nerve.

My fingers go to buttons on my blouse, undoing them with the practice of habit. Once all the buttons are open, I slip my blouse and skirt off, leaving me in only my underwear.

There’s the scratch of his chair against the floor as he pushes out from his desk, standing. He crosses to the edge of the ritual floor, but stays outside the boundaries of it.

The way he moves is lined with caution, but he doesn’t disguise the hunger in his eyes.

When I shrug off my last layers, standing naked before the altar, I watch him pace the outer edge of the circle, feeling his stare, the way it strips me down beyond bare, the palpable want.

I see the way the runes don’t change. They don’t react the way they did when I gave Soven that shiver, and I know it’s because this isn’t true vulnerability. The act of standing naked doesn’t put enough on the line, but what I’m about to do will.

“I have a confession,” I say, swallowing. The thoughts I don’t bring to work with me, the ones I tuck under my tongue when I’m in the office. The ones that have been piling up in my mind, demanding to be let out.

“Don’t tell me you’re another assassin,” he says, though amusement curls his lip.

I’d smile back if I wasn’t so nervous.

I sit down on the stone altar, leaning back on one arm. I try not to make eye contact with the giant mirror above me. If I look at it, I feel like it’ll show me the things I don’t want to see. I can’t think about any of the ways this could be a mistake, or I’ll stop.

I draw a finger up my breast, toying with the hardened nipple. “Ever since that shiver, I’ve been having dreams about you.”

I lick my lips, watching the twitch of his cocks under his loincloth give away his interest. Even with his hand casually draped over the knot of the sheet, concealing part of himself, the evidence of his arousal is plain.

“Dreams?” he near growls, the sound sending a pulse of want between my legs. I nod, unable to look at him.

“Dreams that leave me aching and craving you when I wake up,” I continue. I can feel the magic swelling around me as I confess each word. “Dreams where that kiss didn’t stop.”

I hesitate a moment, before I lay back against the altar, spreading my knees far apart enough that my hands can go between my legs that I can touch myself before him.

I pause, my eyes on the way his gaze falls to my cunt. I trace the slick wetness up the outer edges of my folds. I feel almost powerful, the way his stare is trained on my hand, even when I take my hand up to taste myself off my fingertips. The guttural noise he makes in response makes my hips twitch.

I bite back my smile, before passing my fingers down over my clit. There’s a shock of pleasure when I finally rub myself, a prickling on my skin from the magic. I’ve never been watched like this before, never so openly and brazenly.

“I want you to use me,” I gasp, stroking my clit with one hand. I look at his arousal still covered by the towel, the way he palms his cocks through it. Looking at it, I know the fingers I’m curling into myself can’t possibly compare. It doesn’t do nearly enough to sate the aching want of my cunt.

“Need me,” I beg, knowing I’m giving too much of myself away with those words. “Need more of me. Use me, to whatever end.”

It’s far too soon when the magic takes what it needs, stealing the essence it needs. The candles blaze a moment, and burn themselves out.

The runes go dark, and then it’s only me and Soven, our gazes locked.

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