Page 144 of The Spider Queen
“No.”
“Then I’ll leave you to your privacy.” She turned to leave.
“Wait,” I called. Cass looked over her shoulder at me. “I need a towel and shampoo—”
“Anything you need, just ask for it. It will come to you.” With that final statement, she departed through the open wooden doors, leaving me alone.
Chapter 2
I took another moment to admire the splendor of the bath. It was decadent. Royal, even.
Who was Thane?
What was Thane?
How could this place belong to him if he’d been imprisoned for hundreds of years?
Shaking my head, I realized the fastest way to get my answers was to bathe because then I’d get to see Thane.
A ripple of desire coursed through my body.
If I asked the room for him, would Thane appear? Would he join me in the bath…trace my skin with fingers and tongue…
Why did I want him? Why did I want someone I didn’t even know?
Lust was first and foremost in my mind, but behind it, there was a flicker of love. Love for Hunter. Yet it felt contained. Like it was caged, trying to blast its way out. My feelings for Hunter felt muted, battled into submission.
I briefly wondered if Thane had done something to me—bound me to him—and wrapped my emotions for Hunter in silken magical threads so it wouldn’t be able to grow. With enough time, would my love for him be strangled to death?
My hands went to the nightgown. I lifted it over my head and dropped it at my feet. I walked to the bath waters and stuck my toes in. It was warm but not hot. I descended the steps into the pool. Water eddied around me, welcoming me.
“I’d like it hotter,” I whispered.
The heated water gently pushed against me. I tried to wade through the pool, but the waves were insistent and coerced me until my back was against one cerulean bath wall. A stone bench formed underneath my legs, and I instantly collapsed onto it. The small surfs swished against my skin, swirling around my legs, darting between my thighs.
“Oh,” I exclaimed.
It was like the invisible hand that had slid down my spine, waking me just a little while ago. And then the water formed multiple hands. They gently pried my legs open, and a water finger traced the crease of my body.
A moan escaped my lips.
It grew bolder, pressing deeper. Another two hands followed the curves of my waist, to my chest, to rest underneath my breasts. The water fingers intensified and grasped my nipples, rolling them, tweaking them, playing with them until they ached. The one between my legs continued its erotic slide inside, teasing me with warmth and liquid.
And then I felt a second water finger penetrate my aching flesh. It beat against me, battering my nerves. Pleasure tortured me. My arms flew out to the sides, and I wished I had something to hold onto. It was no more than a thought before two white silken ropes appeared through the somersaulting bath waves. I gripped them and held on, spreading my legs as far as they would go, wanting more, wanting it all.
The water fingers between my legs quickened their pace. My hips rose and bucked. “Deeper,” I demanded. “Harder.”
I was a quivering mess, a string ready to snap. As the two water fingers filled the inside of me, another finger touched the bundle of nerves between my legs.
I screamed, the sound of it echoing off the mosaic walls. My hands gently released the silken ropes. They disappeared. The pressure on my nipples dissipated as the water fingers between my legs slowly eased out of me. I slumped against the wall and would’ve gone underwater, but the waves nestled me in a protective hold.
Floating for a while, I closed my eyes and let the water cleanse me. Finally, my heart rate was no longer a rapid thump ready to leap out of my chest, and the waves let me go. I stood and asked for shampoo.
Though languid and relaxed, there was still a hum of desire below my skin and between my legs. They brushed against me again—a question, a promise.
“I’ve had enough, thank you,” I said.
The water fingers dispelled, leaving me in peace.
