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“Not everyone. For us to thrive, we need balance. Some hunt, others tan the hides, still more build structures for us to live in.”
“So maybe I’m meant to be a hunter in my clan,” I say.
“I can see that. There is a girl you call Nori who would be a good strategizer.”
“Strategizer?”
“In battle, it’s the person who plans, determining where to move forces and how to strike. Some strategizers have foresight. When not at war, they plan where to place structures, what will be needed throughout the harsh season, and things that help us endure.”
“You’re right about Nori. There is no one better for that role.”
“The loud woman named Meg would be a good second to you.”
“Meg has been my truest supporter.”
“As Ramsey has been for me.”
I frown, letting my distaste for his second show.
He opens his hand to show me a small sliver of soap in his palm. “Now, I’m going to clean my little hunter and prep her for a most delicious meal.”
My lips curl into a smile, because I know all too well what that means.
He lathers the bar between his hands, then works them into my hair, my shoulders, my breasts. My heart races, nearly thudding out of my chest when he reaches down into the water and strokes the crack of my ass with his big fingers.
Oh, you better not like that…
Then he moves to my sex, briefly grazing me before moving down my thighs.
In Penticar, my baths typically consisted of a bucket of cold water and soap I’d used to wash filth from my flesh after a dip in Lord Voldren’s pond. It’s never been this lavish and decadent, and I never imagined I’d have such an attentive partner showering me with attention.
He washes the suds from my body, and I take the soap and bring it to his chest. He grunts his approval as my shaky hands work across his body.
It’s a marvel that each of his men is so fit and…physically perfect. Of course, Penticar has its share of muscular men, but not like this. Never this robust and brutal.
Knowing Grixis values boldness, I bring a hand down to his member, grazing along the shaft with my fingertips. He hisses in response, and I can tell that he’s built a considerable amount of lust.
I have to be the one to relieve him of his torture. A man can only go so long without knowing release, so I’ve heard, and I know that if I don’t, someone else might.
And if I’m truly being honest with myself, the thought of it sounds thrilling.
I snake my hand around his cock, gently at first, then tightening my grip. His breathing grows heavy, his hands curling around my thighs.
I try to think back to the bits of gossip I’ve heard around Lord Voldren’s keep, but talk of such carnal acts was frowned upon. I’ve spied servants and the help in hidden recesses, when they think they’re alone with their lovers, and try to copy the jerky motions.
Grixis groans, his head falling back as I continue to pleasure him.
That I can make a big man like Grixis feel this good makes me feel powerful and seductive. I could easily get addicted to his reactions. To how much control I wield over him, using only my body.
He pulls my wrist away. “Can’t take much more of that,” he growls.
“But what if I want more?” I say, injecting an innocent tone into my voice.
He lifts my chin, his mouth closing around the intimate flesh of my neck, working its way down my elongated throat. My fingers rake his chest as if to tell him,“More, more, more.”
But he’s agonizingly slow, painting languid strokes with his tongue, until finally, he reaches my breasts.
“So soft,”he murmurs as he works my flesh, cupping and kneading and pinching to take a puckered nipple into his mouth.
