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Time to reel him in.
I dropped onto a bench, propped up a boot, and sprawled like a feast waiting to be devoured. Draven loomed, breathing hard, eyes glittering in the moonlight. A bulge upset the lines in his trouser crotch. He’d liked the chase. I’d read him well.
“You caught me.” I gestured at my oh so vulnerable self. “Now what are you going to do?”
“Why me?” he asked, trapped in a moment of indecision. If he was new to this, I’d have to help him along with the logistics of it all. Men of War were taught how to fuck their women counterparts, but not their men. That desire, if they had it, they were left to discover on their own.
“Why you what?” I asked.
“You could have anyone in that ballroom. Why choose me?”
Hm, interesting. Few even cared to wonder. Most just wanted to fuck without knowing why. I dropped my boot to the ground, propped my elbows on my knees, angling myself at the perfect height to suck the dick that was very interested, and peered up the man’s broad chest.
“Must there be a reason? You want me. I want you.” I wasn’t about to tell him the truth, that I needed his tongue to wag about how he’d bedded the infamous court jester.
His large hands came around his front and his fingers began to unbutton the lower fastenings on his doublet, then pried at his belt, fumbling in his haste. He wanted this more than I’d realized.
No, this wasn’t a mere want, it was aneed. The poor man was desperate.
I caught his hand, steadying its shaking. “Allow me?” Our gazes met, and an understanding passed between us. He was in safe hands. I didn’t know the Court of War like I did the others, but I’d heard enough rumors and whispers to suspect Draven had little say in any romantic pairings. Love, romance, fucking—it was all a needless distraction from soldiering. But that didn’t mean it didn’t happen. The War nobles likely took what they wanted. A young, handsome lord such as Draven could have experimented. There wouldn’t have been any love in it, just a rushed, frantic release.
It was a wonder he hadn’t already demanded I bend over for him. Perhaps he liked it slow.
I plucked at his fastenings and tried to ignore how, when his hands carefully cupped my face, my breath stuttered in my chest. I’d expected roughness from a man of War. Not… whatever this was.
“Your hand…” he said.
I smiled, as I always did whenever anyone noticed my right hand was missing its smallest digit. “It’s nothing.” His trouser fastenings finally gave, freeing his thick dick, hidden only by a slip of red silk. My own cock pulsed, trapped in my figure-hugging pants.
Rough fingers skimmed my chin, tilting my face up. “You’re him, aren’t you? I wasn’t sure… until now.”
I was so eager to suck the cock of the man who’d somehow surprised me when I was supposed to be the one doing the surprising, his words didn’t reach the guarded part of me. That part that would have recognized my mistake and shut this down before it went too far.
I just needed to get this done, enjoy myself while at it, and leave Draven with a story to tell so everyone would know where I’d been during the early hours of the morning.
“You’re the traitor’s son.”
His words landed like a punch to the gut. I jolted, abandoning the man’s cock. “What did you say?” No, he couldn’t know. Nobody knew. If he knew, a lowly lord from the Court of War, then who else knew? “Never mind.” I brushed his words aside, hoping to ignore them while I considered their meaning. “Do you want me to suck your dick or shall we talk more nonsense that neither of us cares for?”
Giving him no chance to reply, I wrapped my fingers around his heated length, through the silk, but it wasn’t enough to distract him. Questions glittered in his eyes, theories running through his mind, truths he thought he knew, stories he’d heard. Fuck. I yanked his silk undergarments down and slid his cock between my lips. Whatever words that had been about to tumble from his mouth, he choked on them instead. His hands plunged into my hair, his hips rocked, and his cock stroked the back of my throat, thick, hot, salty, and everything I needed to chase away the alarming rush of fear his accusation had unleashed.
Draven moaned. I took that to mean whatever he thought he knew, he still wanted this, and licked him from balls to tip, then used the tip of my tongue to lap his slit and gently suck his tender head. He made some kind of grumbling demand, and his fingers knotted in my hair and the big man thrust, sinking himself so far down my throat I struggled to fight the gag reflex.
He looked down, perhaps alarmed at his own actions. I grinned around his cock. I could take it. And more. His expression shifted from concern back to wide-eyed demand and I wrapped my hand around him, sucking and stroking, listening and feeling for his shudders and moans and how his body signaled its wants. Seduction was an art, like any other. His body told me what his words could not, and I gave him what he needed, but not too much. Just enough to keep him teetering on the edge of pleasure.
“Oh by the endless winds, yes—” He moaned, head back, cock buried in my hand and mouth.
I had him slick and sensitive, primed like a bow’s string, ready to break.
A scream shattered the night. It was no ordinary scream, its sound tragic and broken. Draven yanked himself free and stumbled away, tucking his dick out of sight. “What was that?”
I reeled, light-headed, and wiped my mouth dry. He wasn’t the only one in need, and my own cock demanded to be sated.
Another scream erupted.
My night had begun to unravel, through no fault of my own. And rather than enjoying sucking cock, I was beginning to lose my patience. I wiped a thumb across my lips. Whatever the scream meant, it had nothing to do with us. Not all was lost. All I needed was to focus Draven on the delicious prospect I was offering him.
I met Draven’s gaze, which was no longer full of hunger. His body was still hungry though. He’d sampled what my tongue could do and wanted more.
