Chapter 74: Seventy Four
Lucien
I’d forgotten how filthy this place was.
Not the polished marble streaked with wine, nor the gilded railings where half-naked dancers twirled on silks high above the room. No, the filth was in the air, heavy and heady with opium, sweat, and the desperate musk of bodies sliding against one another in every shadowed corner.
A woman bent over the bar, skirt pooled at her waist while her lover rutting into her like the world might end before he finished. Another dances on the table between us, skin slick with oil, eyes glassy from opium, the scent of sex clinging to her like perfume. Everywhere, there’s movement--hips grinding, mouths parting, skin on skin.
I had ordered these pleasure houses torn down more times than I could count. They always returned, like weeds, crawling back into the underbelly of Ebonheart. And yet here I sat, crownless and cloaked, in one of the darkest of them all.
I hadn’t intended to follow her here
She sat across from me, legs crossed, eyes half-lidded from the ale, and every time she looked at me, my skin felt too tight on my bones. I did not know her name. I did not know why she brought me here. I should have walked the moment she offered that drink. But she smiled, and I followed. Gods help me, I followed.
The beer was sour and warm. I drink it anyway. Then another. And another. Somewhere between the fifth and sixth cup, the edges of everything blurred--the music, the moans, the smell of sweat and wine and sin. My tongue felt heavy. My pulse too fast. The beast I had buried deep inside me clawed it’s way to the surface. To feed. To fuck.
It was the air, I told myself. The debauchery. The tension in the room. I hadn’t been with a woman in so long, I couldn’t remember what the warmth of skin against skin felt like. It was not her.
But every time my gaze drifted it finds its way back. To the small tilt of her mouth, the way she licks foam from her lower lip, the shadow of a bruise on her jaw from where my fist met her face earlier tonight. I did not understand the thing in my chest, this magnetic pull that tightened with every heartbeat.
She didn’t speak, not at first. We sat like that for what felt like hours. Silent, drinking like we awaited to see who fell from the stupor first, watching the world unravel around us. Every now and then her eyes met mine, and the corners of her mouth twitched like she’s in on a joke I haven’t been told.
"Take off your mask," she finally said. "I want to see the face that is said to be beautiful enough to fell kingdoms."
I cocked my head at the order. "You said I was not your type."
Her eyes followed where the dancer crawled across the table and into my lap, straps of her bodice rolling down as she expertly rolls her hips against my groin. Her head dropped back sharply with a moan.
Heat flashed in the eyes of the mercenary, something close to displeasure. "Maybe I lied."
The dancer’s mouth traced my neck, kissing, biting. I had no interest in her. She might as well have been furniture. What heated my blood was the way the woman across shifted in her seat, thighs clamping tight. It was the scent of her blood mixed with jasmine and a want that sat bone-deep.
I leaned back, letting the dancer paw at me. She whined in my ear, voice soaked in sin, ""I could ride you right here, my lord. Slow enough that they all watch, fast enough you forget her name."
I paid her no heed and she hummed in disappointment. To the mercenary, I said, "Come take it off yourself, then."
For a moment, all she does was watch me. Then she sucked in a deep breath and rose. Her fingers ran along the table as she walked towards me, hips swaying. She shed her cloak, revealing a small tunic and pants that held tight against toned thighs and a wide flair of hips. The cloak had been grossly unflattering.
Her amber eyes held mine as she leaned over, lips brushing against the dancer’s jewelled ear. "My turn, darling."
Three words and I was completely enraptured.
The dancer moved aside, returning to the table, and the woman braced her hands on either of my shoulders, my breath loosening as her thighs bracketed mine, straddling me.
"Why did you bring me here?" I asked, forcing my hands to stay at my sides as her fingers threaded into my hair, reaching for the strap of the mask behind my head. She tugged slowly and it slipped free, the heat of her breath kissing my skin.
Her thumb pinched my chin, tilting my head and my breath thinned at the control, the lack of fright, the command in a touch so simple. "I wanted to my first bad decision to be with someone worthy of my time."
My pulse staggered. I should have shoved her off. I had not been touched since the woman I loved was buried beneath the earth. I swore I would never again. And yet, there I was, terrified that if I moved my hand even an inch I would lose my mind. "Do you do this with every man you duel in the pits?"
"This..." she murmured, voice quivering against my cheek as her lips hovered dangerously close. "I’ve never done this before."
"What part?" I grunted, voice thick, head woozy, blood raging. "Your trickery or this half-assed attempt at seduction?"
Her throat bobbed and my fingers curled into fists. I wanted to wrap my fingers around her neck and see if it’d frighten her or make her pupils dilate. My cock stirred in my pants, pressing against her.
Fuck me.
Her hands dropped from my face, trailing over my shoulders lightly. No. Not lightly. Nervously. Her eyes flicked to mine. "I have never been touched by a man before." Her fingers clasped mine firmly. "And I’d hardly call this half-assed, considering..."
My cock pulsed again in response to her words. Her smile tilted darkly, like she relished holding something important over me. A flush crept up my neck, more embarrassment, and she raised a free hand to the colour in my cheeks. "Beautiful," she breathed.
I jerked back my chin, winded. "Do not touch me like that."
She takes back her hand from my face, wiggling it playing with a soft murmur. "Sure, but it is you who is touching me, Majesty."
We both looked down to where my hands trailed up the length of her thighs and I tore them off, bewildered by my lack of control.
The vile seductress caught my fingers before they can stray too far and more brazen than any woman I’d met, she placed them on her chest.
My heart was a wild thing in my chest.
Without breaking eye contact, she guided my hand lower. And lower, until it brushed the curve of her breast. "You do know how to do this, don’t you? Because I have no idea what the hell I’m doing."
My exhales came ragged. "What?"
She licked those maddening lips. "I’m asking you to give me my first orgasm, Majesty. It just might be my last."
My chest heaved. "That...is a rather specific request."