Page 43 of The Princess Tied

Then he reached into the box and pulled out one card.

Po hissed through her teeth and he reached to take her nearest hand, squeezing it. She understood where this was headed.

“I choose!” He brandished the card, grinning. “John and his slave!”

Cold washed through John, but so did the heat of killing fire. Suppress. Count…

He’d reached twenty when Prince Drake began to announce the chosen game.

“You must… wait, wait, I am the prince I can do what I want, yes?” He held up his arms and everyone agreed, loudly. “Then I choose what you all would love to see!”

“Hell,” John muttered.

“Sirs, Birka and Sam, get one of your girls to lie on her back on the table. Clear the dishes there! Clear the table. Then once she lies, let the other one do what comes naturally.”

He heard Po give a sigh. “We are spared,” she whispered, leaning up against him.

Not quite. Not yet. He grunted back. “Shhh.”

The two women were already at each other. Legs spread, the fair-haired one who lay on her back on the tablecloth had her hands in the hair of the one on top of her, who was exuberantly licking at her pussy. The moans and wriggling became more intense until finally the first cried out and her spine bowed in ecstasy. The owner of one of them stood and pulled the girl on top backward onto his bared cock. He proceeded to hump her to the cheers of the crowd. Most of them rose to their knees for a better view.

Squeals and wet sounds, more moans and grunting. “I never realized a public orgy was the order of the day for these noble suppers.”

“You mean night,” corrected the bearded man, smiling. “Take care. The prince will get to you still. You would be best to do as he says.”

That had already occurred to him. The prince favored them with only one dark-eyed examination while the fucking happened, but he was aware of John and Po. If they tried to leave early, they would be stopped.

Once the master of the girl had come, jerking into her, fingers digging at her hips, the prince clapped his hands. “Last game of the night! You, dearest John, our guest. Let us see all of the treasured assets of your slave. She is prettier than any woman I have ever seen!”

The men yelled agreement, whistling, pounding the table, and most were already turning their way. The public sex had stirred them.

The prince’s gaze was rock steady and not exactly malevolent, more… mischievous.

“No!” Po said softly. “I cannot.” Then she pinched her mouth shut.

Smart Po. Yelling that word, here, would likely lead the prince to the truth.

He stood and plucked at her sleeve until she rose with him. “She is a little shy, lord. Let me reassure her, outside, where none can unnerve her. I will return.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Come, girl.”

This way he could check how many men guarded the surroundings, as well as talk in private to Po, who followed him with her head down, pretending meekness.

He could also calm his raging cock.

The thought of stripping her and making her display herself called to something primitive, masculine, and perverted, within. Any other time, except for when he’d tied her up, she was miss arrogance, miss powerful, miss sexy, and always, better than thou.

Tonight she was powerless, and she was his. Tonight he was her protector, her master by all the rules within this marquee, and maybe more than that, if he played this well.

The prince was letting them walk out, which surely meant he had soldiers outside.

As they neared the door, she slowed. “Maybe, John, it would be better if I simply confessed who—”

Struck by the catastrophe this could become, he grabbed her by the back of the neck then swung to look her in the face. “No.”

Wide of eye, she swallowed. “Why?” Her voice was surprisingly husky, her lips parted ever so slightly. Her tongue probed the inside of her lip then stilled.

His thoughts marched to a charming conclusion. Of course.