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“Will there be speeches?” she whispered, wondering how she would concentrate.
“No. A few words, if that. You don’t have to talk. This night is judged by actions more than words, my princess.”
And so it went.
He fed her a little wine and food and at times she fed him also.
Ornaments were placed and removed, sited elsewhere. Some went between her legs, after undoing the lower buttons created a split in her dress below. She had to hold her thighs open and watched him bend over her and carefully nip the jaws to the hood of her clit. Hard breaths were taken; her eyes were opened to how both draconian and subtle touches could lead her to heights of arousal. She was kissed and stroked, suckled on, sighs were made and given, and her heart was likely gifted to Drake.
If the night never ended, she wasn’t sure she would care.
When at last he hooked a finger beneath the silver chain-mesh collar and said, it’s time, she felt as though she lived in some other land where none of this was real.
The click when a silver leash was attached to the collar produced a shiver in her flesh and no protest. None whatsoever.
He stood and beckoned.
The dimness of the lighting in this room lent itself to the hush that fell over those sitting along the tables. It amplified the dreamlike surroundings. The random clinks of metal implement or glass were mere punctuations. They were nothing when held against the fascination she found in Drake’s gaze.
She was a princess and a queen-to-be and she was in thrall to this mauleon.
“Are you mine?” he asked quietly, with a growl rising from the depths. “Are you?” She nodded. “Then you won’t mind me asserting my rights.”
His smile was sinister. Sinister she wanted, thirsted after.
He freed the clasp from the collar, and she watched spellbound as he went to one knee and attached the leash to the ornament currently biting her clit.
“You’re mine?” He rose to his feet.
“Yes, sir. I am.” Amazed at what he’d done, and she’d allowed, she clasped the leash for a moment then let her hand fall. She followed him up the three steps to the bed. The sway of the leash he held tugged at her clit. The other ornaments still latched onto her front jiggled and reminded her they too could bite.
Was she mad? If she was, she wished to remain so for the rest of her life.
The letter... it nagged at her for a fleeting second. Go away. I will deal with you, later.
Chapter Twenty
