Page 99 of Trick

The bed springs squealed. I jerked my arms, instructing the princess to amplify herself.

Briar purpled but bounced harder and yelped as though I’d fatally stabbed her.

Defeated, I dropped my head into my hands—and bounded so high, the top of my skull smacked against the fucking ceiling.

Her yelps dissolved into laughter. Slapping her palms over her mouth, Briar convulsed into hysterics, tears springing to her eyes at my expense. The scene became so comically atrocious that I burst into quiet chuckles with her.

Ironically, Briar improved. She guffawed and moaned in unison. Sensibly, she altered her voice.

“Well, keep your door locked. And let us know if you hear anything suspicious.”

“Ayyyyye!” I howled.

They marched away, sniggering. We waited a full minute before collapsing onto the bed, keeling over and choking with laughter.

“You’re a terrible actress—”

“You’re a d-dreadful lover—”

Petulant, I pointed to my head. “Look what you did. I’m going to have a bump.”

“Serves you right. You should have s-seen your f-face.”

Exhausted, Briar flopped onto the pillows. I landed next to her and rubbed my scalp. Our chuckles ebbed, then faded. Realization crossed Briar’s face as it became clear. We were in my chambers, on my bed, fun-drunk, and masked in darkness.

As we gazed at the ceiling, Briar bit her lower lip. I saw it in my periphery, witnessed her incisors sinking in.

Her fingers stole out to drag against my knuckles. ’Twas a straight shot of adrenaline to my cock, along with another organ pounding in my chest.

Not long ago, I was the one who had targeted her. Before that, I’d always been the one to seduce, to claim whatever conquest suited my fancy. I was the merciless jester whose tongue everyone feared, envied, and coveted.

But none had ever dominated me the way she had.

Neither of us pulled away. Absently, intentionally, we let those caresses slide through the precarious cracks. Her pinky rode my knuckles. My thumb stroked her wrist. We threaded, in and out, over and under.

When Briar found my stack of bracelets, the hairs along my arms sprang to life, not to mention a certain agitator between my hipbones, which went rogue and twitched in response.

Originally, my ribbon had been a marker for her ridicule. Tonight, I imagined using it in other ways—dragging the strip across her lips and down her body, sweeping it over her pretty nipples, brushing it between her thighs, and tightening it around both wrists, among other techniques.

“Life is not purely rational,” she whispered.

“Nor purely amusing,” I replied. “That’s hardly an epiphany for us.”

“But we needed reminding.”

“At the well, you would have wished for something greedy if you’d been alone.”

“And you would have revealed your wish. And you would have said yes to Cadence if Eliot hadn’t been there.”

“Debatable. She doesn’t hold a candle to you, although I can have her.”

“You trifle with me. You can have anyone. And she’s beautiful.”

“She’s typical,” I corrected. “You’re a thorn in my side. Also, you’re loyal, courageous, and compassionate. What’s more, brunettes are the soil, blondes the sun. You’re a redhead—every fiery, inflaming thing in between. You’re sheer magnificence.”

My sidelong glance met her furrowed brows. “What’s that look for?”

Briar shook her head, confounded. “Why do you share yourself when you’ve learned what can happen?”

---