Page 82 of Lady of the Drowned Empire
“Only thing I can do. Start considering the proper punishment.”
“I suppose we can discuss such things if you want,” I said, surprised by how hungry my own voice sounded. “But I wouldn’t worry so much about me in this moment. I think you’re in quite a predicament right now. Maybe you should take care of your little problem.”
There was a cocky laugh on his end. “I assure you, at this very moment, it is anything but little.”
Gods. “Really?” I said, pulse racing. “Well, then,” I swallowed roughly, “what are you going to do about it?”
“No, Lyr. What are you going to do about it? It’s your fault. I think you should be the one to fix the problem.”
I blushed, squirming on the bed beneath the blankets. “Maybe tomorrow I can.”
“I won’t survive until then.” His breaths grew louder, more erratic, more intense. “I think you’re going to have to help me out, partner, right now.”
I gasped. “Rhyan, what? Are you—are you going to travel?” I whispered.
“Would be worth it.” He groaned. “So fucking worth it. But I’m staying right where I am. And so are you.”
“Then how am I—?”
“Where’s your hand?” he asked.
“What?”
“You heard me, Lyr. Where is your hand? Tell me.”
Oh. Oh! I felt my eyes widen. He was…. Gods. I’d never thought of this before. My heart started pounding so hard I wouldn’t have been surprised if he could hear it.
“Lyr,” he said, a warning in his voice.
“On your pants,” I said, voice high.
“Where on my pants?” His accent curled around his words, low and hoarse.
“On my thigh.”
“Put your hand inside,” he commanded.
Exhaling sharply, I slid my hand up to the waistband and then inside his pants, settling my palm back against my leg. My thighs clenched together. “I did.”
“Where’s your hand now?” he asked, voice somehow even lower.
“My leg,” I said.
“Hmmm. What if you put it between your legs?” He shifted again, and a groan filled the vadati. “What if you imagine it’s my hand there? My fingers teasing you, touching you?”
The image was so clear in my mind and so clearly felt between my legs I almost gasped out loud. Trying to compose myself, I said slowly, “I might do that. If you tell me where your hand is.”
“Already there.”
“Are you…?” Fuck. I couldn’t ask this. I threw my head back, squeezing my eyes shut, and pulled the rest of the blanket up over my face as if he or anyone else could see, as if anyone would know. I’d never done anything like this with Tristan. Not that either of us had vadati stones, but even in person, we’d never been very vocal together. Our intimate encounters had been mainly silent with a few compliments thrown in. Nothing like…nothing like this.
“Am I what, partner?” he teased.
I shook my head. “I can’t say it.”
“Yes, you can,” he said, his voice full of mischief. “Use your words. I know you have them. So, so many of them.”
“Rhyan, I…I don’t know.”
