Page 114 of Born for Silk

“I learned from the best.”

My little creature looks at the floor. Blushes. Her eyes glisten with something akin to what I feel but cannot put into words. “It was a little fever dream, but I didn't pick gold. I picked yellow. Like the missing sun.” She spins to take in my room, as elaborate, yet traditional as the rest of my wing.

My eyes track her as she moves around the space, looking like a baby bird in the cage of a monstrous eagle.

"Paisley noted down gold,” I state.

"Maybe they are the same colour to her."

That I had not considered. "Perhaps."

"What is your favourite colour, my king?"

"I'm not a child. I do not have a favourite colour."

"You’re a being of decisions and actions. What about a favourite number? I am sure you have a favourite number.” She looks at the bed. “No steps?”

“No Common.”

She beams at that admission. Yes, sweet creature, you’re the only one. Tuscany is right, she is bright. “Let me guess your favourite number.”

“I don't have one.”

My little creature strolls to me, her steps far sultrier, like a dance, than my sister’s. Craning her neck, she stares into my eyes, diving in deep, intent on finding a silent answer.

She stares until it hurts. "One."

The corner of my mouth lifts, smirking. I want her. Her eyes widen when I pick her up at her waist. Her legs dangle, shoes two feet off the floor, not knowing what to do now.

“Wrap your legs around my waist.”

She does, and her warm core presses to my abdomen. With a little hesitance, her hands rest on my shoulders, her gentle fingers feed into my hair, and I fucking groan when she strokes me.

“Purring for me again, my king.”

I should hate this?—

I do hate this.

I roll my head further against her caress, closing my eyes. Not sure of anything in this moment. My reality has been changed since I met you, little creature. I don't even recognise myself, but instead, see what I am through you.

"Am I right? Is that your favourite number?"

I open my eyes to hers inches away and answer—a lie and truth. "Yes.” But I don't have a favourite number because I'm not that man, not a man at all, but— Now I have a favourite number.

And it's one.

Her eyes suddenly well up, and I frown. “What is it.” She peers down and squirms to get free, but I don’t release her. “No.”

“Please, put me down so I can discuss something of great importance with you, my king.”

A deep, rough sigh leaves me. I don’t want to discuss anything of ‘great importance.’ I want to fuck her on my bed until the sheets smell like her pussy.

“Please.”

Well, fuck.

I walk us to the sunken circular rest area in the centre of the room and sit down with her on my lap.

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