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“Many have attempted to.”
No fucking wonder.
“Please, tell me how to block you from my mind,” I grunt.
“Naturally,” he agrees without missing a beat. “That feeling in your core when you sing? You need to reach for it in your mind. And once you have an idea where it comes from, you can ask it for things. Focus and express your desire to your core. At first, visualizing a physical barrier might help to protect your thoughts. It will take time, and practice—to find your core, then to keep your walls up. Our children spend years perfecting it. But you’ll get there.”
I’m surprised he just told me what I wanted to know, without riddles or snark. I don’t know why, but I didn’t expect it.
“I told you asking does wonders,” Ryther teases.
It’s unfair, really, that such extreme beauty is wasted on someone thisinfuriating.
“Why, thank you. You’re quite pretty yourself, queenling.”
One day, I am likely going to strangle him with my bare hands.
“You’re welcome to try.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
FIVE-STAR ACCOMMODATIONS. WOULD STAY IF I COULD
Darina
The post-orgasmsilence is companionable; mostly because it's actual silence, considering the fact that my thoughts provide steady background noise.
I busy myself with the task he gave me, attempting to pinpoint how I feel when I sing; where that spark comes from. More than a few times, I catch myself humming, but I don’t think I come any closer to identify what he’s talking about.
I’m not certain how long the frustrating exercise takes, but after a while, Ryther stands, unceremoniously getting out of the pool, giving me a full view of his entire naked body.
He’s absolutely shameless, and objectively, there is no cause for shame. He’s something like six foot three of strong athletic flesh. My eyes dart to that bitable ass, and stayed fixed on it as he leaves without a word.
I guess there's no reason to feel shy, given that I know what his cock feels like on my pussy. Not in, sadly. I still want to pout about that, though I'm not trying to let it get to me. It's clear Ryther has some major control issues. And I'll never be a meek little thing, doing what I'm told, following his lead. The more he pushed me around, the brattier I was earlier. It's not my usual move, but then again, men don't typically try to get me to heel the way he did.
I'm wondering whether I'm supposed to leave, too, but reluctant to do so. Ryther might have actually come in the water, but the pool is enormous, so it doesn't feel too gross. Plus, it's still so warm and comfortable. I don't want to face reality yet. This pool, this house, feels like a safe harbor in this insane world.
Ryther isback soon after, with a pile of fabric.
"Soap," he says, grabbing a flask from his back pocket, before dropping it at the edge of the pool along withthe fabric. "And as promised, garments not designed for a brothel."
I snort. "A high-class brothel."
I'm grateful for all of it, but now, I have little excuse to stay in the bath much longer. With a deep sigh, I reluctantly take the flask. It's a pretty, dainty thing, with a rose design.
Inside, the liquid has a strange shine, like mother of pearl.
"What is it?" I ask with a frown.
One of Ryther's eyebrow arches. "Soap. I already said so."
I narrow my eyes. "Just soap?"
It looks...magical.
"Didn't I say you'd be safe for tonight?"
I'm starting to understand fairy tricks. "Why aren't you answering the question?"
