Page 68 of The Lord of Whispers

I knew our charade would drop the moment we stepped through the door of the foyer. We spent the remainder of our walk in silence. As we crossed into the foyer of the manor, the high lord’s hand encircled my wrist, turning me toward him. I pretended not to pick up on the heat practically rolling off the him as I faced him, staring too innocently into his face.

He held my gaze a moment longer, then sharply dropped my hand, taking a single step back from me and purposefully reaching for the belt at his waist. Silently, his eyes bore into me as he began methodically taking off his belt, sliding it meticulously through each loop before folding it in half and holding it ready at his side.

“I…” I began, eyeing the belt in his hand, a tantalizing new kind of excitement rushing through me.

I gulped down air, not knowing what excuse I could come up with. But before I could finish my sentence, his tongue was prying my mouth open and exploring each crevice as if to flush out the lie that had been on my tongue. He roughly placed his hand over the top of mine and squeezed my hand over the hard length of him.

“Thisis where your hands belong,” he commanded.

The young lords who had once been an impetus for the game Jay and I played suddenly became the fuel for a different kind of fire. Forgetting whatever excuse I’d wanted to give, my need for him seared through me. His jealousy rode my body and electrified me as if I’d been struck by lightning. He broke away from me abruptly, grabbing my arms, digging his thumbs into them as he turned me around and pushed me toward the closest wall.

He gripped both of my wrists in one hand, pulling them together above my head and deftly wrapping his belt around them, tying my hands together.

“If you can’t keep your hands off other men, I’ll do it for you,” he growled, yanking the leather tighter until it bit into my skin.

“Yes, Jay,” I responded breathily, excited for what appeared to be a new lesson.

He wrapped his arm around my waist while he kissed and bit at my neck and fumbled with loosening his pants with his other hand. Finally freeing himself, he used his free hand to hike my dress above my waist and pull my panties to the side. I was panting, his every touch like a direct line of fire to the throbbing between my thighs.

Then Lord Vitruvian pinned the tail end of the leather belt and my bound wrists to the wall, mounting me forcefully from behind. My wetness allowed him to easily slide into me. He slipped his hand inside the front of my panties and began to roughly flick the raw apex at the top of my sex while plunging himself deeper into me, as if trying to fuse his shaft permanently to the end of me. The leather of the belt dug into my skin with each thrust.

“Give me what’s mine, Alarie,” he demanded, tugging the leather of the belt tighter, bringing me to stand on my toes in my heels.

“Now,” he said as he continued to fiercely drive himself into me.

And I did, the roughness in his voice and our lovemaking quickly pushing me over the edge. As his teeth grazed the top of my shoulder, I couldn’t help but turn my moan of pleasure into his name.

My knees began to buckle with my pleasure as he continued to plow into me harder and harder.

Through gritted teeth, he said, “You. Are. Mine,” punctuating each word with a punishing thrust.

“Fucking say it, Alarie! I want to hear you scream it,” he demanded, a rare obscenity slipping from his lips.

“I’m yours, Jay. Just yours,” I insisted as he thrust into me harshly and drove all thoughts of Stefan and anyone else but him from my mind before he lost himself deep within me.

Still inside of me, his body pressed against the back of mine, his hand tightly wound around the leather digging into my wrists, he warned, “Don’t let meeversee you take that lip of yours between your teeth for another man.”

Then he withdrew from me so abruptly that I almost fell to the floor, my hands still bound, my legs weak from my all-consuming orgasm, and his arm no longer supporting me around my waist. Before I could turn away from the wall, Lord Vitruvian was walking away from me, not bothering to retrieve his belt that still bound my wrists.

“You passed, by the way,” he said flatly over his shoulder. “Congratulations,” he said as he finished buttoning his pants.

He didn’t look back at me as he left the room.

At least I knew what had given me away. With the emotions of the night raw and whirling within me, I walked to my room and reflected on the relapse of my loving Jay to that of my exacting tutor and high lord.

Although I had passed the last test for the liaison program, for the first time in my life, I thought that I may have failed a different test that night. I had no doubt that the high lord had just given me a very thorough lesson and had meant to instill in me that I was his. But the only lesson I’d learned that night was that I very much enjoyed being tied up and fucked.

33

Alarie

Luke and I walked into one of the larger studies in the manor. Jay wore a three-piece deep blue suit with an even darker blue tie, so deeply blue it almost appeared black. Even though the bespoke suit fit him perfectly, it still seemed like his muscles were bulging under the fabric, like he could flex and the threads would tear down the seams.

I hadn’t seen Jay at breakfast that morning. He’d been in meetings all day, probably since before I was even out of bed. Today was the one day out of the month when most of his emissaries would come to the manor for a full debrief. Luke and I usually gave our reports to the high lord together since we worked over the same High Court events together.

“So, I’ll see you tonight?” I asked Luke, finishing up our conversation as we all made our way toward the large desk in the center of the room.

“Of course, Al. Who the fuck else am I going to dance with? Rhett?” he quipped, gifting me one of his glorious, toothy smiles.

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