Page 41 of Slay Me

I swallow hard but refuse. My lust grows, desire lighting my center on fire.

“Open your mouth, Liv, or I’ll open it for you.” His eyes glimmer at the challenge, which is why I obey. Or, at least, that’s what I’m going to tell myself.

Flavor seeps through my mouth, though I’m focused on anything but the food.

“Good girl,” he whispers. The Ringmaster sets the fork back on my plate and turns my chair so I’m facing him. Then he crouches down and scoops another forkful. “Again.”

I swallow the food in my mouth. “I can feed myself.”

“Certainly didn’t look that way from where I was sitting. Open your mouth, or must I threaten to do it for you again?”

Once again, I open, and he slips the fork between my lips. A piece of marinara slides off of the tines and lands on my bottom lip, so as soon as I finish chewing and swallowing, I run my tongue out and sweep it up.

The Ringmaster’s gaze tracks every movement. And when I look down, it’s impossible not to notice the massive bulge in his pants. I swallow hard.

“Can you feed yourself now?” he demands.

I lift my eyes back to his, noting that his gaze has cooled now. Almost to the point of anger. “Yes. I am more than capable of sticking my own fork in my mouth.”

With a grunt, he leaves my fork and returns to his seat.

All the while, I’m trying my best to contain the throbbing between my legs. I cross them, squeezing gently in any attempt at all to get some relief. Unfortunately, I have a sneaking suspicion there is only one thing that’s going to help with that. And he’s clearly unwilling to act on it.

As though nothing happened, the Ringmaster picks up his paper again and begins reading as he eats. I take a few bites, noting that, while delicious, the food is a shit distraction.

“What are you reading?”

“A paper.”

“Is that what that is?” I ask, sarcasm dripping from the words. Apparently, I’ve decided pissing him off is my new favorite pastime. Quite a long way from plotting my escape.

“I am scanning a new contract,” he says.

“Do you typically work during dinner?”

“No.”

“You’re doing it because I’m here.”

“Yes.”

“Then why not let me go back downstairs?” I question.

The Ringmaster sighs and sets his paper down. “Have we not already gone through this?”

“We have.”

“Yet you were unsatisfied by the results.”

“Clearly.” I cross my arms. “Perhaps Valentina would be better company.” I mean to taunt him, to poke the dragon, but I’m not prepared for the grin that graces his face in response.

The Ringmaster’s eyes shimmer with power. I swear I can even make out flames in the deep color. “Jealous?”

“One would have to have a connection to feel jealous,” I reply. “And for you, I feel nothing.”

He leans back and crosses his arms, all while the warmth between my legs threatens to consume me. “Then why can I smell your arousal?" he questions. “Why can I imagine what you’d taste like as you come on my face?”

Oh, fuck.I swallow hard. “You’ll never find out.”

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