Page 76 of Bride of Ash & Dust

With a groan, I cover my cock with the towel as the orgasm crashes down on me. My hips rock and my cock pulses, spilling seed into the towel, pulling every muscle in my body tight.

“Fuck,” I whisper under my breath as the fantasy starts to recede.

I open my eyes and see a line of gold against the eastern horizon. My head throbs with the remnants of the orgasm and yet another hangover. I try to shove the fantasy of Lilias bent over the feast table deep, deep down. I toss the towel under the washbasin table and pull my pants back over my hips.

There’s a rustling sound from the bed behind me. My breath catches as Lilias makes a little gasping sound.

“I thought it went away on its own,” my wife says, from the shadows.

Chapter 42

Lilias

YES

Zarek turns toward me, the half-light playing off his lips as he smiles.

“Fuck, Princess,” he says. “Sometimes you get tired of waiting, you know?”

He sounds out of breath, like he’s been running. I shift on the bed, which suddenly seems too hot and too hard. I feel like I’ve been wound too tightly, like we’ve been kissing for hours.

I didn’t know what he was doing, not at first. Sure, I’d heard jokes about that kind of thing, but I didn’t think it was something men actually did. Not if there was a woman right there, on the bed, in the same room. A woman who would even be willing, if he would just ask.

I sniff. Zarek comes closer, still smiling. The light catches on the strange metal tube around his neck. He reaches for something, and my body pulls tight, expecting his touch⁠—

He pulls his jacket off the chair beside the bed. Of course. My shoulders drop, but what was I expecting? Why would he kiss me here, when there’s no audience?

“I apologize,” he says. “That was rude of me. It won’t happen again.”

I sniff again. “I thought there was no such thing as getting pushed past the stopping point.”

Zarek turns back to me, only this time, his smile is gone.

“There is no such thing as getting pushed past the stopping point,” he snarls. “And the man who told you otherwise was a piece of dog shit who just wanted to jam his cock between your legs.”

He walks to the window, then runs his hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I just— I mean, don’t you ever put your hand between your legs, close your eyes, and think about some handsome knight?”

“I— I don’t,” I admit.

It’s not a very dignified response, and on its heels comes the horrible realization that, if I put my hand between my legs and thought of anyone, it would be the man standing in front of me with the morning light catching in his dark hair.

Zarek tilts his head as he stares at me. “You don’t?”

Oh, gods, that stare. I feel like I’ve got a live coal between my legs, and I have no idea how to put it out. My mind whispers something about putting my hand down there, but I shove the idea away.

I clear my throat and try to sit up in bed like a dignified princess. Zarek walks closer.

“You really don’t, do you?” he asks.

He’s standing so close he could reach out and touch the place he’s talking about. I shift again, trying to do something about the ache between my legs.

“N-No,” I stammer.

He sighs like I’ve personally disappointed him. “What in the nine hells did he do with you?” he mutters.

“Who?”