Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
And yet, it can’t be me.
Because even now, I’m fighting the urge to tell my court to keep going, to see if we can draw another of those sweet cries from her lips, to see if she really did scream my name as she orgasmed. To urge her to do it again and again.
At the same time, I want to rip into them. To tear them away from her for daring to coax unrestrained pleasure from her when that’s all I want. I can’t decide if this is because I haven’t tasted and touched Belladonna properly yet, or because I’ve suddenly started to see the advantage to monogamy. Either way, it would be the wrong call.
She just had a life-altering experience, and pushing her too far, too fast will harm her. Allowing my jealousy to slip its leash is dangerous, too; she’s likely to misread it and think I’m judging her for the pleasure she just embraced.
It’s right and good that Inna is slowly easing their ministrations and stroking her thighs soothingly. That Zhenya is pressing a tender kiss to her lips before ze resumes the rhythm that will send zir over the edge as well. That Danik squeezes Belladonna’s shoulder comfortingly, continuing to offer his steady support, even as he grips Zhenya’s hip and urges zir faster.
Belladonna is limp, but her energy is good, smooth and relaxed. The orgasm will dispel the magic, and I want her to come down softly before that damned shame rears its ugly head.
I could leave her here to my court’s tender care. I trust them implicitly, even in this, even with her, but the strange jealousy is threatening to take root in the base of my spine, is spiraling upward and threatening to take over my mouth. It doesn’t make sense. Jealousy can be a delightful edge to introduce into sex games, but it has no purpose beyond that. I have shared every partner I’ve ever had, happy that there were others who could meet their physical and emotional needs because my main priority has always been being a good leader. Doing so means being a shitty partner, but with good communication, most of my past lovers have been understanding of my emotional limits. Belladonna isn’t even truly my partner to feel possessive over. It’s disconcerting in the extreme.
That doesn’t stop me from rising and crossing to sink down on her other side.
Inna moves back, shifting over to Danik and Zhenya, then Inna grins at me, their eyes too knowing. “We’ll be going for a while yet, and I took the liberty of inviting more to join us once you’ve tucked our delightful Belladonna into bed.” Their smile goes tender. “You were right to pick her.”
“I know.” I scoop Belladonna’s limp body into my arms just as she begins to stir. She’s too fucking cute, nuzzling against my throat. It makes me tighten my grip on her. It makes me want . . . A lot of things.
Instead I summon a wicked smile for my Insomnior Court. “Have fun, my darlings.” Then I stride out of the room without looking back. Voices whisper from downstairs, the invited guests. I pick up the tones of Feofan, two incubi who have been courting Zhenya—and each other—and several others I can’t immediately place. It will be a party, indeed.
Any other night, I would be eager to rejoin them and immerse myself in the varied pleasures offered. I would be impatient to return to the room and the temporary escape it offered, at least for a few hours, before I needed to get back to work. Instead, I slow my steps, taking my time as I make my way to Belladonna’s room. Prolonging the comfort of holding her in my arms.
Even with the leisurely pace, I still reach her room far too soon. “You can open your eyes, little one. I know you’re back with me.”
She obeys, just like she always seems to. I expect her to drop her eyes, to hide from me, but when I look down, she’s studying my face as if attempting to memorize every line and curve. She wets her lips. “You gave me a long list, I said yes to all of it, and they didn’t even take my clothes off.”
“Yes.” I shift my grip on her so I can open the door.
“But . . . why?”
As if on cue, her shame arises in a wave meant to kill the unwary, unseeable as it is. I press my lips to her temple but don’t set her down. “What part of what happened is causing you to feel this way?”
She parts her lips like she might lie but finally shifts uncomfortably in my arms and says, “I liked that you watched. I liked imagining it was your mouth on me.”
My knees go a little weak, but I’m not leader of this territory through sheer charisma alone. A leader must learn when to dissemble and when to be explicitly honest. Showing Belladonna my shock would only reinforce her shame. So I merely smile. “I want that, too.”