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“Open.”
I do as he says. It’s honeydew, cold and juicy, and I can’t help myself. I let out a soft moan of delight when the sweetness bursts on my tongue. My lips wrap around his fingertips and I flick my tongue over them to catch any drops of juice still there. I’m not even thinking about what I’m doing—I’m just savoring the moment, the flavor.
When I settle down to chew and swallow that delicious bite, I look at Demyen.
He’s transfixed. Staring at my lips, his own slightly parted. The hungry fire in his eyes is blazing and I feel the undeniableevidence of what I’m doing to him press between my spread thighs.
But he doesn’t say anything. He just reaches for another piece of fruit and feeds it to me. This time, I gaze into his eyes as I bite into the fresh strawberry and suck on its juices. It takes a few bites. I’m slow and careful with each one.
Demyen growls his approval again. His arm pulls me closer, makes me sit on his lap a bit firmer.
I really can’t help myself. I roll my hips, just slightly, as if I’m trying to get comfortable.
He sucks in a breath. The hand that was feeding me grips my bare thigh. It feels like he means to stop me, at first, but when I do it again, his hand only rubs, slowly, from my knee to my hip.
Now, he truly pulls me onto him. There’s no mistaking what we both want.
“Clara…”
“Yes?” My lips are barely inches from his. I won’t close the distance; I know better to wait for him to give me permission. “… Sir?”
Demyen sucks in another deep breath, and when he lets it back out, it’s with a string of curses I can’t quite decipher.
The spell is broken. I figure as much when he reaches to another spot on the bed and holds up a scrap of shimmering gold fabric. “Put this on. After you eat,” he quickly adds.
I squint at what can’t be more than two square feet of fabric. Total. “That’sclothing?”
“It’s your uniform for tonight. I’m hosting a dinner party for a few business associates, and you’re going to be my waitress.” He holds the…dress, I guess you’d call it?...between us. “You do your job well and I’ll let you spend a day with your daughter.”
He’s playing dirty. And he knows it.
I can, too.
“Yes, sir.”
Demyen looks like it’s taking every ounce of self-control to ease me off his lap and head toward the door. To be fair, it’s taking a good amount of my own not to cling to his waist just to hump out the ache where his erection had been rubbing so nicely.
“You’ve got an hour. Eat, get dressed, then meet the guards at the door. They’ll escort you to the event.”
“Wait.” A sudden panic hits me. “What about Willow? She’s just a little girl, and?—”
“Oh, don’t worry. We sized her uniform down to fit.”
The look on my face must match the horror I feel, because Demyen genuinely laughs. He calms down when he sees the tears brim my lashes and shakes his head with a sigh.
“Listen, Clara. Every time you ask me some terrible fucking question about how I’m treating your daughter, I’m going to give you an equally terrible answer.” He takes a few steps back toward me and wraps his large hands around my arms. The gesture actually feels comforting. I hate that. “I’m an asshole. I’m a murderer, a thief, and I won’t think twice before putting a bullet between a man’s eyes just for blinking at me wrong. But I’m not a monster. I wouldn’t do that to her.”
“You’re a contradiction.” I don’t know why I mutter it; the thought just slips out of my mouth. I brace myself for the consequences.
Demyen chuckles and nods. “That’s exactly I am. It’s in your best interest to remember.”
And that’s how he leaves me. Hot, flustered, and frustrated as all hell. Even watching the door close behind him is torment because it gives me a view of his bare back, all rippling muscle and golden skin.
He wants to play this game? Fine.
Let’s play.
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