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“Yulenna.”
I pause. Is that the first time he’s said my name? Addressed me as a person? It sends a pleasant shiver up my spine, because his tone is almost caressing. “Yes, my lord?”
His eyes are blazing as he regards me. “Get on the table.”
It’s a jarring request from Neska.Onthe table? Did I hear him correctly? I hesitate, and then the desire to please him takes over. I move to the table and consider it, my hand on the surface. The counter is tall, and so I’m not entirely surprised when Neska moves to my side and helps me up.
Then I’m perching atop the edge of the large wooden table in the center of the kitchen and wondering what it is he truly wants. Is he going to punish me in some way? It’s impossible to tell from his expression. “Have I offended you, my lord?”
“I am not offended, no.” He breathes deep, as if inhaling my scent, and then takes a step back. “Pull up your skirts for me.”
Oh, is this sex? If so, I’ve misread his cues entirely. We haven’t had sex in many days now—perhaps even weeks—ever since I told him how I truly felt. But perhaps he’s grown tired of trying to consider my feelings and just wants relief. If so, I’m not surprised. It might be asking too much to demand a god humor my conflicted emotions. I tug my skirts up and shift my weight, exposing myself all the way to the waist. “Would you rather I bend over the table, my lord—”
“Hush,” he tells me, a look of concentration on his face. “I am determined to get this right.”
“Get what right?”
He gives me an annoyed look, as if I’m interrupting his focus. “On your back, Yulenna.” Neska pauses briefly and then adds in a soft voice, “Please.”
It’s the “please” that tells me this is something different. I’m mystified, but I do as I am asked. I lie flat back on the table, staring up at the stone ceiling while Neska considers my bared body.
“I have seen a great many threads recently,” he continues in a silky-soft voice. “Looking for a very specific sort of thing. I have watched a great many mortal men and women at work, and I have determined that the only way to truly understand this particular action is to learn it for myself.” Neska’s hand slides up my thigh, sending another shiver trembling through my body. “Has your cunt been licked before?”
I make a wordless sound in my throat, because of all the things I expected Neska to ask…this was not it. Neska, the most brooding, impossible, and selfish of the three…is going to pleasureme? “Yes it has.”
“Excellent. Then you will tell me if I do something wrong.”
That’s the only warning I get before he moves fully between my thighs and kneels on the floor. A moment later, my legs are over his shoulders, and he presses his face against my pussy. I make another small sound in surprise. His skin is cool against mine and he gives my pussy a soft, gentle kiss…and then another. And another.
Soon, I’m being peppered with affectionate kisses. They feel good, and it’s strange to realize that it’s Neska being so tender, but I hope he doesn’t expect me to climax from this. He did say he doesn’t want me pretending. I want to run my hands through his hair like I do Zaroun, but I’m not sure if he’ll like it. Neska in particular has never invited me to touch him.
His fingers drift over the seam of my pussy and then he spreads me open for his perusal. I quiver, waiting to feel his mouth on my skin.
“I watched so many threads,” he murmurs. “And yet I find I still do not have the answers I sought.” He strokes a finger up and down my slit, grazing through the wetness there. And then he pauses. “You’re slick.”
Inwardly, I tense, ashamed. I’ve had some men in bed that didn’t like it when a woman had a bodily function, but I’m hoping that Neska’s question is due to simple ignorance. “It’s a natural reaction,” I say in a quiet voice. “I cannot stop it.”
“Is it? What are you reacting to?”
“When I’m aroused, I’ll get wet.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. His finger strokes through my wetness again, and I tremble. “You have never been aroused with me before, have you?” His voice is cool, wondering.
I don’t know if he’s offended or not. “You’ve never tried to touch me before.”
“Hm. This is true.”
He doesn’t seem to be offended, and I breathe a little easier.
“You’re very tense,” Neska points out. “Is this…unpleasant for you?”
I clench a hand in the dress pooled at my waist and try to think how to phrase my answer. “My desire to please you is warring with what I know from past encounters with men who did not want my reactions. Sometimes sex is messy, and some men do not like that. I am not certain what a god will think of a human body, and so yes, I’m tense.”
“I am not a mortal. What they think does not concern me. Does this wetness…is it pleasing to you?” He lifts his hand and sniffs his fingers. “It smells unusual. Strong, but not distasteful.”
“When I’m wet, I’m very pleased,” I manage. “And when I’m touched with wet fingers, it feels better because everything glides.”
“Hmm.” He sounds more curious than anything. “When I come, is it wet like this?”
