And he could think of a lot.
“Uh… yeah, that would be great. You’d know better than I would what they need, so let’s… let’s go with that.”
She let out a husky laugh, her fingers trailing over his back before she turned to address her warriors, all of whom were packed into the war room.
“Help Lord Keaton’s forces construct the barracks. I will be along to oversee the construction once we’re done.”
A few of the Emvolas snickered and some looked at Keaton with barely concealed jealousy. Whether it was jealousy of him or Cassia, he wasn’t sure. And he definitely didn’t need to think any more about it.
“Adriana, can you, uh…”
“I will handle things while you are otherwise occupied, Lord Keaton,” she said, giving a determined nod.
She still seemed completely unbothered by this, even as Cassia pressed her front against his back, her hand moving down his front until her fingers dipped beneath the waistband of his trousers.
“This definitely is not private,” he hissed, grabbing her wrist and pulling it away.
“Apologies, my lord. A good duel always gets the blood pumping. Don’t you agree?”
He did agree. He could feel his pulse pounding, his cock throbbing with it. One more moment of that attention and he would have just let her take him in hand right here, in front of everyone. Fortunately she pulled away and simply reached for his hand, tugging him along.
Keaton followed her to the bedchamber he’d only just set up the previous night. The bedchamber where he’d come to thoughts of Adriana, while being serviced by a daemon. Now he was going to complete a ritual with a woman he’d just met. A woman who could snap him in half like a twig.
This poor excuse for a bed is going to break into a million pieces. …And I’m okay with that.
“Uh, this one is mine,” he said, gesturing to the bed he’d slept in the previous night.
“Hm. It will do, I suppose, but a dungeon lord should have a far better bed than this.”
“I’ll get there. It hasn’t been a priority yet, and I’ve slept in worst pla—”
His words were cut off as he watched her sprawl out on his bed, lounging on her back with her knees falling well apart from each other. He couldn’t help but look now at her perfectly pink pussy, her folds glistening with her arousal.
Keaton’s mouth went dry, and any chance he had of thinking clearly was tossed out immediately. He couldn’t think at all; could only unlace his trousers and pull off his shirt.
“So my body is to your satisfaction, then?” she asked, looking up at him with a challenge in her eyes.
“Of course. You’re stunning. And, well. Do you really need more proof?” He couldn’t help himself, gesturing downward with a smirk.
His cock stood at attention, and Cassia used that invitation to size him up. She licked her lips, her hand straying to one of her plump breasts. She squeezed roughly, a soft moan falling from her lips.
Gods help him, but he wasn’t going to last long if she kept doing things like that.
“Come and claim your lieutenant, Lord Keaton.”
He nodded, swallowing hard, and moved to join her on the bed. Keaton expected that challenge to remain in her eyes and was prepared for her to grab him and throw him down in her place. She didn’t, though. She barely moved a muscle when he climbed over her. She just lay there, legs parted, arms now at her sides as she waited for him to act.
Shit. Maybe I misunderstood…
Maybe this “ritual” was just a formality. A quick in-and-out, like some kind of… transaction. The thought made Keaton’s skin crawl, but he positioned himself above her, his fingers gripping around the base of his cock as he rubbed the head along her slit until it glistened, too.
Her breathing picked up, chest heaving just so. He wanted so badly to touch her, but what if that wasn’t part of this?
“May I touch you?” he asked, already breathless.
“You may do whatever you wish to me, my lord. I am yours to take.”
That tone sounded so… different from what he knew of her. Maybe her boldness was confined to the battlefield, but he didn’t like the idea that this fierce warrior goddess was little more than a warm hole to stick his cock into. He could have gotten more interaction from his own hand.
It was a terrible thing to think, and Keaton tried his best to push those thoughts aside as he pressed the head into her, parting those swollen lips. She gasped, her body twitching in response as she tried to control some kind of impulse to move. Keaton kept his eyes on hers, watching and waiting for any sign that he should stop. For any sign of… anything at all.
There was nothing there, though. She looked up at him like she was someone else — someone who just existed for him to fuck, and no other reason.
“I’m sorry, I can’t do this,” Keaton said, pulling out with a groan.
“Have I disappointed?” she asked, sitting up to reach for him as he pushed himself off the bed. “Come stand by the bed. I’ll take you into my mouth first, get you nice and ready.”
“That’s not the problem.” Or at least it wasn’t… “I’m… I just feel like I’m with someone completely different from the woman I dueled. I can adjust, I guess, but I expected more than you just lying there.” He winced, the words sounding callous to his own mind. “Shit, I’m sorry. I know how that sounds, I—”
Keaton just decided to quit while he was ahead. Especially since his thoughts turned to Elena. He’d been so blinded by his love for her that he hadn’t realized just how… bad the sex was. Physically, sure, they both eventually got there. But there was no passion, no spark, and nothing from Elena other than a warm and willing body. He distinctly remembered having to actually move her into place once. Not in a sexy way, either, but in a way someone might move furniture around to make it more suitable for the task.
He hadn’t expected the same from Cassia, but he needed to just… get over it. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel like she needed to perform to his specifications. He wanted to hear her moan because of something he’d done, because he’d made her feel good, not because she was working with some kind of script.
“Just uh… just give me a minute, and I’ll—”
This time he was cut off not by his own sense of self-preservation, but by a hearty laugh from the Emvola. Not exactly the sort of thing a man wanted to hear when he was completely naked, but Keaton’s gaze carefully moved to the bed where she’d been laying. She’d fallen back against it once more, one arm draped carelessly behind her head while the other rested just above her diaphragm, as if the laughter — which had been constant since it started — was beginning to make the muscle spasm.
Keaton just arched a brow and waited, resisting the urge to cover himself.
“I apologize, my lord,” she said with a soft snort, finally getting a hold of herself. “I am not laughing at you, merely at the fact that you do not want me to play the meek and subservient lover.”
“Are you really that surprised?” he asked, blinking. “Why would I agree to duel you in a fair contest if I was that kind of person?”
“And why would you make doe eyes at the dragonkin if you were not?”
“I… That’s not… I don’t want her to be subservient to me, I want…” A blush stole across his cheeks. He was just talking without thinking any of it through, which was always a bad idea. “You know, we’re not talking about her right now. We’re talking about you and me.”
“You cannot blame me for making assumptions,” she said, sitting up again and shifting her knees underneath herself to crawl to the edge of the bed. “Most dungeon lords — most men, in general — need to feel some level of power over the women they keep around. They don’t feel like they’re presenting a strong enough front otherwise.”