Page 69 of Born for Silk

When I had the thick head inside my mouth, it throbbed like that heart I fed Odio. I didn’t know that they moved on their own.

I thought they were, well, fragile.

Nothing fragile about his…

“Stop looking at me like that, little creature. You don’t know what you’re asking for with those big, fuck-me eyes.”

I snap my gaze back to his, finding an expression, dark and frightening.

Using the muffin to redirect my mind, I eat it. It’s good. Tart and sweet and dense, filling.

He watches me enjoy it

Too soon, I take the last bite and lick the doughy residue off each finger, feeling better now that my stomach isn’t empty.

“Is it unbearably heavy…?” I ask, glances at it again. “When it’s like that?”

It unsettles me how still he is at this moment.

“You want to know what my cock feels like while I watch you lick that muffin and then suck your fingers?” His voice strains. “When your little tongue comes out and laps at that butter, my cock throbs like a wound. I can feel my arteries pounding, the pulse is thunder between my ears.” He reaches down and palms his large bulge curving up between his hips. “It feels like my blood is literally boiling.”

He pushes off the counter and possesses the column of my throat. “Like your throat right now. Thump. Thump.”

I whimper, because he’s hot and close and threatening, but I’m not afraid. Without meaning to, I relax into the tight collar he makes with his hand. He dips, his lips meeting my ear, heavy breath rushing into my hair. “But the pain I felt inside my cock while I was licking your wet pussy was worse. Much worse. That was the sweetest agony of my life.”

The question dances on my tongue; will you come to me later tonight? I’ll stare at my veil and pretend I don’t recognise your deep groans, scent, possessive touch.

I open my mouth to ask when he reaches for my cloak. “Time to go back to your room. The Guard will be awake soon. We can’t have him reporting this.”

Chapter Ten

Rome

Her scars...

The tiny white rivers of past wounds that snake down her inner thighs. How did she get them? I could not be more pleased that I executed that Wardeness in the Lower-tower last week. She was careless and blind. This girl—my Aster—has not lived a gentle life needed to be a Silk Girl.

The last-light dim creeps away in the corridor as I leave The Circle and Aster…

"Aster is out,” I state, pushing open the door to Cairo’s quarters to find him hunched on the side of the bed, pulling a shirt on, the lashes from his flagellation on display for a slither of a moment. When I was a young man, I used to wonder what thoughts made him want to pursue a path of penance each last-light before he slept.

Now, I do not care.

I continue, “We are a lord down and she is the smallest. I will take the redhead."

“Iris,” he confirms, standing and stopping in front of me. Bowing his head, he says, “Sire.” He continues his routine, hovering over a small basin, and begins to wash his hands.

His chambers are as barren as his heart, a wooden bed, desk, basin, and bookcases. The minimalist space reflects his commitment to The Trade as his sole identity and interest. “Aster has two very interested lords. It is a pity.”

My back muscles bunch. "Who?"

"You know I cannot say,” he states.

"She is out.” I widen my stance and remember a time when I was eager to be an emotionless warlord like my father. How very unlike him I am when my thoughts and passions bubble away in my veins like molten lava. “Her thighs are scarred. She has been through too much to be a Silk Girl.”

"I'm not going to ask how you know such things.”

"I will not repeat myself. She is out.”

---