She clenched around him, slowly riding his fingers.
His free hand drifted down to his erection, stroking it gently over his trousers as he watched her. It would be easy to give in and give them both what they craved. He could pull her hips up until she was on all fours, bend her over the arm of the chaise, spread her wide, and end their mutual torment. But the lure of this particular game was even more potent than any fleeting physical satisfaction.
Camilla’s breath caught as she rolled her hips, seeking friction. He stroked himself harder, his balls tightening as his own pleasure increased. He imagined how good it would feel to slide his throbbing cock across her slickness.
But tonight wasn’t that night. Tonight was about her alone. He stopped touching himself and focused on her again. She was getting close.
He pumped a few more times, drawing out the sensation, listening as her breath turned ragged, then withdrew his fingers.
Camilla must have sensed the shift; she glanced back at him, back still arched, searching.
“You stopped.”
She didn’t ask why. But her frustration was written plainly across her face, as was her lust. Instantly, Camilla knew… He’d won this round.
Envy flashed her a grin, then bent forward and nipped playfully at her fleshy bottom, his tongue soothing over the mark, indulging his earlier fantasy.
He stood, straightened, and handed her the bottle of massage oil.
“Use this when you touch yourself later. It’ll be almost as good as when I make you come again.”
“What?” she asked, her tone incredulous. “You can’t be serious.”
He gave her a slow, wicked smile. “Sweet dreams, my filthy little darling.”
Envy returned to his bedroom and shut the door, chuckling softly as she called him every cursed name in the book.
THIRTY-SEVEN
“THAT IS ABSOLUTELY not a clue,” Lo said for the fourth time. “Put it down.”
Camilla closed her eyes, praying for some sort of divine interference. After she’d slept for only a few short hours, more frustrated than ever after Envy’s win last night, they’d all had breakfast, then immediately began their day of hunting.
By now, they’d been searching for the next clue for ages and the demon princes were driving her well past the point of madness. She was feeling downright murderous.
Perhaps that had something to do with the fact that she’d done exactly as the antithesis of Prince Charming had suggested, unable to sleep without finding release after he’d driven her wild once again. That he’d somehow outmaneuvered her at her own game ought to be criminal. Next time, she’d have to plot her victory better. Clearly, he’d been repaying her for the Sin Corridor.
Game on, demon.
This morning they’d all been methodically searching through one chamber after the next, deciding that the three of them, plus two research assistants, would complete a more thorough search if they worked together, room by room, shelf by shelf, using Lo’s meticulous records to compare what was in the room with anything that might have been added.
Which sounded fine in theory until one factored in the princes’ inability to work with each other without fighting. Every. Cursed. Minute.
Camilla scanned the room, her attention pausing on an artifact that looked like a dark moon. Glass, smoky and opaque. A few shelves over, an enormous nautilus shell was displayed, measuring at least two feet in length, larger than any she knew of in the mortal world.
“Give it to me now,” Lo said to Envy.
Using gloves, Lo gingerly plucked the illustrated manuscript out of Envy’s hands, setting it back under a glass encasement.
“You’re certain it’s not a clue?” Envy asked. “I don’t see it listed.”
“This book has been part of this collection for three hundred years. In a House with this many artifacts and tomes, it’s unfortunate that one was missed in the ledger, but not unheard of. Put it back down.”
“If you’re sure Lennox didn’t plant this clue back then,” Envy said, “show me the proof.”
“Tell me why you need to win so badly, and I’ll consider sharing my court secrets,” Lo lobbed back. “This game just began in the last month or so, correct?”
“Lennox has been known to plant clues whenever the opportunity arises.”
“You’re not answering my question,” Lo said.
Best of luck with that futile inquiry, Camilla thought crossly.
“Maybe the gossip column was correct. Maybe you’re playing for much more this time.”
Camilla’s brows rose. “Gossip column? What did it say?”
Envy shot his brother a contemptuous look. “It didn’t say anything.”
“How very odd,” Camilla said, “that a paper should print nothing at all. Yet here we all are, discussing something.”
“Bloody hell, do you ever cease with your games?” Lo said. “The paper is public knowledge.” He shook his head and looked at Camilla. “Rumors suggest Envy’s circle has been magically warded. No one has been able to go in or out. It started just when the game did.”
“I don’t see how it matters whether it is true,” Envy said.
Camilla watched him closely. His demeanor had shifted slightly—it was nothing very noticeable, but he’d tensed for the briefest moment before adopting that frustratingly blasé attitude. As if he couldn’t be bothered about the rumors.
Which was categorically false, as he’d just tried to keep that rumor from her.
She couldn’t sort out why he’d attempt to downplay its significance unless he was hiding a much darker truth.
“Exactly,” Lo said, interrupting her thoughts. “You refuse to tell me any of your court secrets, so I have no desire to share mine.”
As the princes continued to bicker, Camilla wished to throttle them both. They’d now been at this particular disagreement for an hour. She half wished they’d pull their cocks out to compare sizes and get on with it.
Envy’s attention snapped to her.
“Mine’s much larger, Miss Antonius.”
She rolled her eyes. Leave it to Envy to pick up on that.
Lo glanced between the two of them, brows knitted at their silent conversation.
“Nothing.” Camilla waved her hand, irked. “Please, continue this scintillating argument. I’m sure we have several more hours we can dedicate to it as well.”
The two males picked up where they’d left off, completely missing her sarcasm.
At the rate they were going, they’d never make it out of House Sloth.
Perhaps this was evidence of the prince’s sin at work. They were moving at a snail’s pace, and Camilla had never realized before how inactivity drove her mad. At home she was always in motion: drawing or painting or curating the gallery or visiting Kitty. Tending to Bunny and waltzing her around the town house, kissing her fuzzy little peanut head.
Now Camilla was… losing her mind.
She missed her big gray-and-white cat.
She wanted to find the next clue as much as Envy did, but she, at least, refused to be waylaid by petty feuds and court politics.
Thinking of clues, Camilla briefly wondered if she should be searching for something else for her first riddle, but no note had magically appeared with any game rules for her, and no blood oath had been signed. So was she not quite a player? She supposed she was a pawn.
A fact she hated.
Just as the game master had known she would. He’d made his move expertly. This had been the highest form of blackmail, proving there really was no honor among thieves.
If she’d never agreed to Envy’s bargain, she would never have painted a hexed object. And she’d not be in this predicament now. It had all been plotted brilliantly.