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“Midas,” I interject. “This really isn’t necessary. We were just talking.”
Neither of them glance my way.
“I didn’t think you were the type to lie to the elders just to keep—”
“Out of my sight. Now!” Midas yells the last word, and the people closest to us turn their heads.
Cyrus stands up. “Can you blame me for wanting to be certain our Ra’a is… of the right blood?”
Right blood?! The judgement dripping from his voice makes my skin crawl. I want to slap him and almost do, but Midas yanks him up by his lapels and snaps his teeth in Cyrus’ face. “Be careful what you say.”
Cyrus laughs, which is definitely not the response I would have if faced with the anger Midas is directing his way.
“Look at you. The great, honorable Midas Ra. Lying to keep your power. I never thought you’d be that foolish.”
Midas’s anger turns cold. His voice drops to a low, foreboding rumble. “In the name of the goddess, I banish you, Cyrus Ra’i.”
Cyrus glares. “You don’t have the right. Not until tomorrow. And by then…” He leans forward and whispers, so it’s impossible to hear what he says next.
Midas hurls him at the nearest pillar. Cyrus’ back hits hard enough that I swear the whole thing shakes, but I must have imagined it, because he just stands up and brushes himself off. He smiles at Midas and walks off whistling with his hands in his pockets.
Midas takes my hand and yanks me up off the couch, tugging me along, weaving between fires and couches and people who are staring at us, until we’re in a dark corner, covered in shadows.
He presses me against the low wall that surrounds the rooftop and kisses me so hard I’m sure my lips will bruise. The wall is made of glass, nothing obstructing the drop, but it’s thick—at least a foot wide.
I pull back from the kiss even though I don’t really want to. “W-what was that about?”
I have no idea what I’m feeling right now. Part of me is angry at Midas for turning all caveman just because I was talking to a guy. Part of me is glad that Midas wiped the floor with that pompous ass.
I get that I’m not like the rest of the people here. I’m all too aware that I’m the little cinder girl, but to have it thrown in my face. It stings. The disgust in Cyrus’ gaze at the end of the conversation makes me glad Midas did something about it.
I should be repulsed by his violent show of jealousy, but it just convinces me that Midas wants me, and that is very, very appealing. This is a man who will protect me, defend me. Is it wrong of me to want that? Does that make me a bad feminist?
Being wanted enough by someone that they would fight for me makes me feel safe in a way I haven’t felt since my mom was alive. His show of strength is comforting, terrifying, and more arousing than it has any right to be. My bare thighs are slick and no amount of clenching them together is doing anything to ease the ache between my legs.
“Are you afraid of heights?” Midas asks.
I’ve never been afraid of heights before, so I shake my head, but when he takes my waist and lifts me onto the top of the wall, my belly flips. Something like fear mixes with exhilaration. The thrill of being balanced on a ledge, with a fifty-story drop behind me and Midas’s firm body between my legs, drives the adrenaline I’m already feeling even higher.
In this position, our faces are almost perfectly aligned. The look in his eyes is wild, barbaric. I should scold him for his jealous, possessive behavior, but before I can, he pulls up the front of my dress and presses his palm against my clit. Eyes never leaving mine.
“Are you going to answer my question?” I ask, fighting the urge to buck into his hand, trying my damnedest to stay focused on reprimanding him. “What was that about?”
“He’s dangerous, and I protect what’s mine.”
“But… I’m not yours.” Even as I say it, it feels wrong. “I’m a dog walker, getting to live out a fantasy at a fancy party for a few hours.”
“That’s not all you are, Jeslyn.” With my panties already off, he slides a finger inside me, pulls out, and slides in another. I’m so ready for him, so swollen and wet. There’s barely any resistance.
Something between a squeak and a moan escapes my lips as he firmly rubs my g-spot. I don’t know if this is just some toxic masculinity machoism driving him to stake a claim on me after seeing me with another man, but he’s not wasting any time teasing anymore.
He kisses me, and my attempts to pretend I’m outraged vanish. I want him to take me, own me. Right here and now. Perched on a narrow ledge overlooking the New York skyline, with a party raging in the background.
The wind is cold at my back, but his body is as hot as one of the nearby fires. Feeling brave, I reach for his pants. He lets me undo them, but the moment his cock is free, he takes both my wrists and locks them behind my back with one hand. Using the pressure of his hand holding mine, he scoots me closer to the edge, closer to him.
I rock my hips forward, trying to sink down on his length, but he holds me off. “Oh no, my ruby. When I take you, it won’t be to prove something. It won’t be when you doubt what this is. And it won’t be when you fucking expect it. When I take you, you won’t see it coming.”
A place low in my belly heats as if someone dropped live coals inside me. The head of his cock is right there, so close. The tip is barely touching me, but it’s enough to set me on fire.
