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But what?
I think about Crulden and how excited he was to touch me. It turned him on so much to go down on me that he came the moment I touched him back. I think about this morning, too, and my thighs tighten instinctively. For a man that doesn't know much about sex, he's sure a quick learner. Just thinking about him is getting me hot and bothered.
A throat clears.
I look up, fanning my face. The humidity in the jungle is worse today, the sun beating down, and everything feels damp and muggy. The trainer is standing there at the edge of the pit, a frown on his face as he gazes at me.
He lifts his chin the moment our eyes meet. "You're distracting him."
I blink, looking over at Crulden. Sure enough, the front of his loincloth is tented, and he keeps glancing over at me even as the others lunge at him.
Oh. Oh shit. My horniness is stinking up the joint. How embarrassing. I jump to my feet, smoothing my rough shift down over my thighs. This isn't going to help him be at peak performance. I move to the edge of the pit and wait for Crulden to notice me. "I'm going to go to the kitchens and make sure they fix something nice and refreshing for your dinner tonight, all right? It's so hot that I'll get you some extra juice."
He clearly isn't happy about it, but gives me a brief nod. "You'll be safe?"
I know what he's asking. It's not if I'll be safe or not. No one would dare touch me because he'd rip their heads off. He always worries I won't come back, but he won't ask that in front of others. "Absolutely. I'll see you at dinner."
And I wink at him and blow him a kiss. Might as well lean into the whole “Crulden's woman” thing.
I'm rewarded with a tusked grin, and that makes me feel warm. Smiling to myself, I ignore the stares and lecherous looks of the guards and other gladiators as I cross the courtyard and head for the kitchens. It's definitely a steamy, gross day, so I'm thinking something like the jungle equivalent of watermelon, or lemonade. And since I'm on a mission for Crulden, I ignore the overseer and head right for the head cook, making my demands. It turns out there is a sweet, light juice that pairs well with water and a sugar-like substance, and they promise to send an icy pitcher of it over along with a cool, crisp set of veggies, cold cuts, and some equally cold melon.
I head for the scientist's office after that and demand shower time for Crulden, too. He'll want to get all that sweat off of him—and have me touch him again. I think about that shower room as the scientist pulls out a small vid streamer and shows me into the area where he keeps recovering patients. It's empty right now, so I hop up on one of the cots and wait for him to start the streamer, since I can't read their language.
"You tap on this to activate," the scientist says, as if I'm a child. "Are you going to remember this?"
"Yes. Are you going to remember to insist that Crulden get a shower?" I counter, bold as ever. It'll make him feel so good. I'll make him feel good, too, I decide. I tingle all over at the thought, my mind full of mental images of Crulden going down on me on the shower floor, Crulden with his head parked between my thighs as he presses me to the tile wall, Crulden under the spray as I jerk his cock…
Maybe tonight I'll use my mouth. Maybe—
"Are you going to actually watch the vids?" the scientist asks, impatient at my daydreaming. "Or are you just here to irritate me?"
I scowl at him. "I'm going to watch." And I push the button he showed me. "See?"
The vid streamer cues up, triumphant music playing. The scientist just rolls his eyes in my direction. "Congratulations. You can operate something a child can. Good job." He nods at the old vid streamer in my hand. "That's my only spare, so don't break it. Better yet, don't touch anything. I have several of his more famous bouts already cued up, so all you have to do is watch."
"I'm watching," I promise, and the music changes, drawing my attention. The scientist leaves, and then I'm alone, watching the vids. The first few minutes, it's nothing but pedigrees and family names of the lords who will be sending in gladiators, and I could care less about them. I don't know how to fast forward, so I drowse, barely paying attention, as the vid drones on and on.
Then, a familiar face appears.
My heart stops at the sight of Crulden's visage on the small screen. It's him—there's no mistaking that savage face—but it's odd, because there's something about him that's…strangely different. I can't put my finger on it. When he moves into the arena pit, I sit upright, fascinated. The very way he carries himself is different. He's all tension, as if bristling with anger. Maybe that's it? The gladiator on the vid is just a ball of rage, waiting to be released. When I think of my Crulden, I don't think of him like that at all.
