“Everything alright, my love?” Kaison asks airily as if he hasn’t just remotely turned on the pair of vibrating panties between my legs.
That sonofabitch. That fae fucking evil?—
Ohhhh dear god.
I swallow my groan as the vibrations against my vulnerable parts scatter my thoughts.
“Yes.” My words come out shaky and on a half cough. Snatching up my champagne, I hastily sip my drink.
The duke turns away with a sneer.
The second I swallow, the vibration notches up to another level. My core turns to molten hot liquid. I instantly end up in a coughing fit, the sting of bubbles assaulting my nose from the inside.
More disgusted looks are cast my way until I get my coughing under control.
The panties don’t have fangs.
And yet I am completely under attack.
Only by taking shallow breaths and squeezing my thighs together do I manage to keep still.
Fire licks up the base of my spine, as my clit undergoes an onslaught from the evil underwear.
As I turn pliant against the tiny motor, I feel Kaison’s attention focus on me. With a quick look at him, I catch a positively devilish smug grin. Instantly I tear my eyes away from him and focus on the far wall. Even making eye contact with his sultry, knowing face heated my body several degrees.
With a deep breath, I will myself to suppress the overwhelming sensations. But oh god, I want to buck and moan and writhe like the animal everyone here thinks I am.
The fuck was I thinking, giving Prince Slut Bag this much power over me?
And when have I experienced this much pleasure? It’s almost like since I met him my body woke up from a long sleep. Now it’s party o’clock, and it is throwing out heat, shivers, desire, and anticipation in a big rave complete with music and laser lights.
This is a super inappropriate time for party o’clock.
And yet. . .
I summon every ounce of willpower to maintain a façade of composure. My hands grip the edge of the table with white-knuckled determination, anchoring myself in the storm of sensation threatening to consume me.
Kaison leans in close, his voice a feather-light whisper against my ear. “Having fun, my love?” he teases, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. I bite my lip to stifle a gasp as the vibrations intensify yet again.
Holy fuck, did someone ask me a question?
I must make some sound resembling confusion.
Kaison lifts his champagne lazily. “Our guests are speculating on if you will insist on a white virginal dress the humans favor for our nuptials, or if you will take on our traditional colors for matrimony?”
He’s completely unaffected, putting me on the spot on purpose. I want to smack him. I want to fuck him. I want—I want?—
“I don't look good in white.” My words come out so tight, they almost unravel into a lewd moan of pleasure.
“Au contraire my bride, I believe it could be quite a sweet look for you,” Kaison coos.
I’m not sure if it’s our sickening affection or my current state of approaching a bone-shattering orgasm, but I sense the discomfort at the table.
Also—sweet?I’ll show him sweet. I'll beat him to death with my six-inch platform boots with the spikes on them until he’s a bloody pulp?—
The buzzing switches from an insistent thrum to a syncopated pattern. I bite my tongue even as I shiver.
“Oh my. Are you cold, my dearest?” Kaison dotes with false concern.
