Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
I rub my jaw.
“You could always go in the towel,” I suggest.
She glances over her shoulder, giving me an incredulous look.
“You want me to get murdered by a thousand-year-old sorceress for breaking the dress code?” she enquires.
“I doubt she’d murder you, but I don’t think you can ask for anything else than what she’s already provided,” I say.
“You’re probably right.”
She sighs and stands up again, finally choosing the least indecent option: the red lace dress with the demi-bodice. She starts pulling it on with narrowed eyes, like she’s already planning how to hide her assets. I watch the way the lace hugs her thighs and barely covers her nipples.
Fuck. She’s going to kill me in that dress.
She catches me staring and arches a brow.
“You’re not dressed either.”
“I don’t need an hour to pick between ‘naked’ and ‘almost naked,’ sweetheart,” I say, grinning at her. “I’ll wear whatever she put in there for me—I don’t fucking care.”
“Fine,” she says primly. “Go ahead then. Shock me with your modesty.”
I open the other side of the wardrobe and pull out the first male outfit I find—a long dark coat embroidered with thorn patterns in blood-red thread, black trousers, and a deep crimson shirt with an open neck.
It’s a little more dramatic than I’d like, but it fits—barely. The trousers are too tight and do nothing to hide my persistent hard-on.
Fuck.
I glance at Irena as she tugs the bodice of her new dress higher, cheeks flushed with frustration and pure indignation as she tries to make sure the black lace covers her nipples. But when she pulls the bodice too high, the slit in the center of the dress’s skirt also moves upward and her soft little pussy can be seen behind another panel of see-through black lace.
She sees this in the mirror beside the wardrobe, curses under her breath, and pulls the dress back down again…which means her nipples are once again on display.
I laugh—I can’t help it.
“Careful, Princess—that wasn’t a very ladylike thing to say,” I remark.
“Help me find another one,” she says, ignoring my taunt. “I can’t go out in this—it’s too obscene!”
But just then a knock sounds on the door and we hear Horatio’s voice calling,
“If it pleases you, my Lord and Lady, the Lady of Thornmere calls upon you now to come to a feast in the banquet hall.”
“Looks like it’s too late to change,” I say and Irena makes a face.
“I guess you’re right.” She sighs, which pushes her breasts up and out, showing me a glimpse of her tight nipples above the lace.
My cock goes hard all over again.
Gods help me, if this is what supper with the Sorceress looks like, I may not survive dessert.
51
IRENA
I try. I really do. But no matter how I tug or twist or shimmy this ridiculous dress, I can’t get it to cover both my nipples and my… everything else… at the same time.
When I lean forward, the bodice gapes open and my breasts nearly fall out. When I pull the top up to hide them, the front slit lifts high enough to show the thatch of curls between my thighs. The lace is too sheer, the cut too obscene, and to make matters worse, I have no undergarments on. No shift, no chemise, no panties. Not even a corset I could lace tighter. Just this frothy, inappropriate gown clearly designed by someone who’s never heard the word modesty.
Valen is no help at all. He keeps stealing glances at me as we descend the spiral stairs behind Horatio, the massive black knight whose silence now feels knowing. Smug, even. He is dressed for dinner in an outfit much like the one Valen has on. Clearly the Lady of Thornmere has her own taste and she expects everyone else to follow her style.
The hallway we walk through is impossibly long and smooth, carved straight through the heart of the enormous tree. Faint golden light glows from the walls themselves, which throb and pulse like living bark. A subtle floral scent hangs in the air—but it’s not quite natural. I find it too sweet—almost cloying.
I can’t stop shifting the lace higher on my thighs. My nipples still feel swollen and tender—kissed into aching attention by those damn bath flowers. And worse, between my legs—Goddess help me—I’m slick with desire. As if they left honey deep inside me that Valen couldn’t quite get out. As if I’m still in need.
Valen notices my scent—I can see his nostrils flaring. I remember him telling me he could smell it when I was lying—clearly he can smell my desire too, which feels shameful because it’s something I can’t control.
I can see how it affects him in the tautness of his jaw and the way his eyes move over my thighs…my breasts…my flushed face. And I can see it most clearly in the front of his tight black trousers. He’s trying to be discreet, but the long, hard bulge there is impossible to miss.