Page 56 of The Princess Tied

“Indeed, but it is for a good cause. Shhh.”

He stroked his finger down her lips then took her second nipple and did the same, only this time she watched and knew, a fraction of a second before it did so, that the jaw would close.

Her muffled sound was accompanied by a twist of her lips. She breathed through the alarming throb-throb of pain. Po shifted on the cushion, frowning at John.

“Stay sitting, or a third one will go below.”

Now that was ominous. Po huffed and glared.

Then, with her breasts hurting and on display, like blasphemous, hot lanterns of her sexuality, John reached between her legs and under the dress, making her start and her breasts jiggle. The bells tinkled.

He trailed his fingers downward over her mound and her clit, ending between her legs where she knew he’d found wetness. “Here. Where you are swollen. Answer me. Will you be good?”

The bearded man beside him from the night before was listening avidly, while sliding a chocolate treat into his mouth. This was humiliating. Intolerable. Should she say no?

Only if she wished to reveal who she was.

Only if she wished to deny her extreme arousal.

Or to get a clamp on her clitoris, which sounded atrociously painful, intriguing though it was, and even more shameful than anything done to her so far.

She nodded, an infinitesimal amount.

As if it were an everyday thing, John squeezed his fingers beneath the crotch of the red underwear and pushed them far inside her. “Say yes. Unless you wish this—”

An indescribable lust roared in as his fingers thrust hard enough to rock her on her cushion.

Gods. “Yes,” she rasped.

“Good.” He kissed her mouth with his fingers still inside her, with her pussy squeezing onto him.

“Later,” she began to insist, “…you had bett—”

“Uh-uh. No. The agreement. I get to do anything, and this…” He pushed them in and out again. When he twisted his hand, she felt the knuckles of his fist on her inner thigh. Her fingers found her legs and dug in. “This is my anything.”

Her chin was below his shoulder, and her eyes peeked over, enough to see this was entertaining the others. Despite this obscenity he exposed her to, her eyelids fluttered down.

The feel of this.

What he was doing made her wish him to be silent, so she could simply exist, to feel, and be nothing else. Her heartbeat pounded in her head, expanding, dominating her mind.

“Okay,” she whispered, to get him to be quiet, so that throb could take her over, that all-consuming pulse from the hardness of his fingers where they occupied her pussy.

Then he sucked them out of her and leaned back. Fascinated, mouth agape, she watched all below—past the dangling clamps with their bells and between their bodies, as he wiped his fingers on her dress.

“The dragon chess awaits! Though I am loath to interrupt such beautiful vulgarity. Sir, remove that hand from inside her and let us play. I will be glad you prepared her for me. And make sure your hand is clean and dry.”

Po did not think her face could blush any hotter.

John turned away and stood, while pulling her to her feet. She must stumble after him, half-naked with those clamps taunting her, all the way to the head of the table where the board was laid out. Only by a quick flight of her hand did she stop the red dress from sliding all the way off her.

Dragon chess or Nar-quar-do. Swaying, she looked at the board.

To master it took decades, or so it was said. She’d had enough lessons against the masters of her court to make her eyes glaze over. Not that she would call herself great at playing this.

“You will sit there.” The prince directed her to the side of the board, and she kneeled on the rug. “Keep your pretty musical chest out where we can see it. May I touch her?”

“No,” John answered. “Not unless I say she needs correcting.” He smiled at her grimly.