Page 33 of The Villain
His footsteps echoed over the polished marble tiles, eventually fading altogether as he disappeared from sight.
Resting his épée over one shoulder, Adam probed her with a curious gaze. Sunlight flooded the room, causing the golden strands of his hair to shimmer and his eyes to take on the hue of warm honey.
“Well?” he prodded when she’d stood there for several seconds without speaking.
Clearing her throat, she lifted her chin. “I had hoped to challenge you to a duel.”
He chuckled, twirling the grip of his épée, the sunlight glinting off the blade’s edge. “Is that so?”
She nodded. “Yes … but I want to attach a wager to our bout. If I win, you must answer a question for me. Any question I ask.”
Creasing his brow, he nodded slowly, as if digesting her proposition. “Did you not learn enough this morning?”
The reminder of the revelation he’d made left a bitter taste in her mouth. “I do not relish being made to wait for the answers I seek. If you are bold enough to allow me a chance to earn more, I’d like to try.”
His smirk spread into a grin, exposing his teeth. “What do I receive when I trounce you?”
She bristled at his teasing, annoyed he thought so little of her skill. That he underestimated her would prove his downfall in the end. She could beat him … shewouldbeat him.
“You may have …”
She bit her lip, knowing she must offer him something enticing; otherwise, he would simply laugh her off. Yet, offering him too much too soon would make it more difficult to attempt this tactic in the future. It would lose its allure for him if, for instance, she offered to give up her maidenhead here and now without a fight. No, it must be something that would please him enough to make him risk being forced to reveal something before he was ready.
“M-my mouth,” she offered before she could lose her nerve.
His grin faded, and his pupils expanded, turning his eyes into fathomless bronze. Nostrils flaring, he took a step toward her, reaching out with his empty hand to grasp her chin. His thumb rested against her lower lip, his gaze dropping as he contemplated her offer.
“A bonny mouth it is, little dove,” he murmured. “What, exactly, are you offering to do with it?”
Her chin trembled, her breath hitching as his nearness washed over her like a roaring ocean wave, muddling all her senses. He filled her vision with his large frame, his scent flooding her nostrils—so heady and masculine, she could practically taste it. Primitive. Wild. Spicy with just a hint of sweat from his exertions. Her knees grew weak, her legs turning to jelly.
“You threatened to use it, did you not?” she managed, her words coming out low and husky.
“Aye. That, I did,” he replied, slowly tracing the line of her lower lip, then pressing down on it to part it from the upper. “And you understand what that means, do you not? You are not quite as innocent as I first assumed, are you?”
He sank his thumb into her mouth, and she lifted her tongue to meet it, lapping at the tip of it in answer to his question. She had never performed fellatio before, but believed she grasped the basics. It should not be difficult.
“Say it, little dove,” he growled, going back to stroking her lip, biting his own as if tamping down the urge to devour her whole. “Say out loud what you’re going to do with that pretty little mouth.”
The words hovered on the tip of her tongue, embarrassment making it difficult to say them. She had insisted he’d never make a whore of her; yet, here she stood, bartering a sexual favor in exchange for something she needed.
“Say it, Daphne,” he growled, an edge of annoyance creeping into her voice. “I want to hear it.”
“I-I will …”
He leaned closer—so close, she could feel his breath fanning against her face, tickling her cheek.
“Suck your cock, Adam,” he finished for her.
“I will suck your cock, Adam,” she said, lowering her eyes—but not before heat and satisfaction flared in his, searing the surface of her skin like a branding iron.
His smile returned, slow, teasing, and feline, drawing her gaze back up to his face. “You have yourself a wager, little dove.”
Releasing a sigh of relief, she stepped away from him, squaring her shoulders and stepping around him to approach the rack arranged against one wall. She swiftly unbuttoned her jacket, exchanging it for the protective clothing Adam already wore. After adorning herself in the padded jacket and gloves, she selected a mask, holding it beneath one arm while inspecting the row of épées mounted upon the wall beside the equipment racks. Flanked by foils on one side and sabers on the other, the épées all appeared identical, so she selected one, testing its balance.
She held it up by its grip and inspected it, then turned it on its side, letting it go and catching it with the tip of her first finger, balancing it by the blade. A trick Bertram had taught her. Satisfied with the épée, she flicked her wrist and caught the weapon by its grip before turning to face Adam.
Eyebrows raised, he inclined his head at her. “The lady knows her way around a weapon.”
