Page 33 of A Promise of Blood & Thorns
And then he starts jumping. Frantically jumping until his enormous body is rattling the wooden desk and the pens are rolling off and the vase of flowers on the night stand teeters unevenly before crashing down in a spray of glass.
“Stop! Stop it!” Christian commands of him.
“I—I fuckin’ can’t!” And the massive man continues to jump all around the room against his will like a schoolgirl at recess.
Seven’s laughter shakes through him, but I notice he keeps his hand firmly over his lips as if he’s stopping himself from saying something that might... get him in a similar situation as his friend.
“Am I doing this?” I look at Seven, and he nods between stifling his laughter, never once daring to say a word. “Well, how do I stop it?”
No one answers me, especially when Rorrick somehow ends up in the middle of the bed, bouncing around like an angry toddler at a Chucky Cheese.
“Crymson.” Christian’s cool hands lower gently to my thighs, and the intimacy of how we’re positioned distracts me from the chaos of the room. My thighs shift, but it only presses my pussy more firmly against the hard outline of his cock. Long fingers grip my hips tighter. “Please.” He clears his throat and seems to put effort into not thinking about our position so he can think through his words carefully. “Please stop making my friend jump around the room like a jackass.”
And that does it.
Rorrick’s hawing voice turns braying. An explicit curse word slips out between the donkey noises, and now Seven is full-on laughing without holding back.
“This is the best day of my entire life,” Seven says with pure happiness in his eyes.
“Shut. The. Fuck. U?—”
“Stop. Stop. Everyone stop.” Christian looks up at me like he’s pleading for normalcy, and I have no idea what he wants me to do about it.
But everything does stop the moment he commands it.
Rorrick falls on his ass, the bedding jostling all around him when he lands. Seven’s laughter dries up on the spot. Not a single noise is made.
And I continue to perch atop his sexy body.
“Crymson,” he says like he’s walking on eggshells around a very powerful wizard instead of a woman he has chained in his bedroom. “Are you okay?”
I nod.
“Do you—do you feel okay?”
I nod.
“Any—strange magical feelings?”
I consider the way I felt before I slept. It was an uncomfortable energy. Nervousness and anxiety, perhaps?
That feeling’s gone now.
I shake my head, no.
“If we unchain you, would you maybe be a bit nicer to us?”
Wow. Our relationship is really getting complicated now. My captor just asked if I could be a little nicer to him. Bad bitch energy is really starting to be something I understand now.
“I guess,” I say quietly, uncertain if whatever is happening to these assholes is really something I can control or not.
Because let’s face it, it’s probably just karma, and they most definitely deserve every minute of it.
Christian lifts the golden key once more. His steady hand slides around my tender wrist while he works the lock there. My skin prickles with nerves everywhere his chilled skin meets mine. Steely eyes hold mine, but it isn’t a look of suspicion, it’s a look of curiosity. No one on the planet has ever looked at me with the amazement that this man constantly shows me.
It feels warm across my flesh. It makes me want to please him, to give him reason to be so amazed at someone who’s such a screw-up like myself.
My chain falls away from one hand and then the other. Then his fingers are sliding along my jaw. The chill of his touch mixed with the coldness of the room peaks my nipples immediately. I close my eyes and bite back the exhale that’s heavy on my tongue. He tilts my chin down to him ever so gently. When he sits up fully, my breasts press against his thin white shirt. I lower my hands and let him cover my nudity with his body. With an awkward shift, my sex grinds against his dark underwear, and I notice the tension in his throat when he swallows hard. Paleblonde hair brushes my forehead as he tips my chin with two fingers. Goosebumps shiver across my flesh when he slides his palm along my throat. He holds me there for a single second, and then the weight of the chains falls between us in a clattering pile.
