She needed something to calm her nerves. Her thoughts turned first to wine, and then to another one of her recently acquired diversions.
Yes, that’s exactly what I need, she thought.
Late that evening, after her attendants had retired to their rooms for the night, Sita was in her chambers when Nebet came rushing in looking for a misplaced hair comb.
“I’m so sorry to intrude. I must have left it here earlier—”
Sita hurriedly sat up in bed, pulling a thin linen blanket over her bare chest. She gave Nebet a tight smile. “It’s there,” she said with a nod toward her ebony dressing table.
“Oh, thank you, thank you.” Nebet plucked up the comb. “Wake up to benevolence, Sitamun.” She gave a quick bow and departed.
As soon as she’d left, Sita let out the breath she’d been holding.
“She’s gone,” she said.
One of the heavy curtains covering her window flicked aside, revealing Femi hidden behind them. He puffed out his cheeks. “Thank Amun she didn’t stay to chat.”
Sita bent to reclaim the cup of wine she’d hidden under the bed. “How is it that such a strapping man as you could be afraidof little old Nebet?” she asked, taking a sip. It was her second cup, and her head already felt pleasantly light.
Femi chuckled. He still wore his usual short schenti and Eye of Horus collar, though it was a little askew. “It is Nebet’s mouth I’m afraid of. Despite her size, she is quite capable of seeing us together and telling someone. I risk everything every time I come to you, my princess.”
“And still you come,” Sita said with allure, handing him his own cup and letting the blanket slip from her chest.
Femi took the cup and drained it lustily. “And still I come.”
She beckoned to him, and he obeyed, moving to stand at the foot of the bed.
“What would you have me do, Sitamun?”
Sita spared a thought for the maidservant from the garden. The girl may not have appreciated Sita monopolizing her lover—but then again, was she really going to complain? Sita was the princess.
“You’ll do anything I say?” Sita asked.
“Anything.”
“Remove your collar.”
He did.
“Now your belt and schenti.”
He licked his lips. So far, since that night at the festival, they had only touched and kissed during stolen moments in shadowy corners of the palace. What she was suggesting that night was a step into unknown territory.
After only a moment’s hesitation, Femi complied, letting the schenti slip soundlessly to the floor.
Her breath caught in her throat as she beheld him, the taut angles of his body catching shadows in the candlelight. He was like the wine—thick, smooth, and intoxicating. But unlike the wine, she could drink as much of him as she liked and it would never stop feeling good.
Lying there, looking at him, all she wanted to do was drink, and drink, and drink.
“What shall I do next?” he asked, his voice a quiet rumble.
“Come here and kiss me.”
In an instant, he was there on the bed, slipping on top of her.
“As you wish,” he murmured.
His lips met hers, and in the sunburst of sensation that followed, she tried to forget.
