Yennara finds me awake and reading the next morning, the woody fragrance of juniper thick in the room from incensed candles. The drapes are shut tight. The sky outside is still blue in a waking world. I seem to be the only one alive.
On hastily barreling into my room last night after my heated encounter with good Sir Lancelot, I'd barely managed few hours of sleep, tossing and turning in the sheets, trying to keep my too willing mind and errant hands from wandering. From exploring dangerous territory down south. It was futile because Lance had gotten me all hot and bothered. And so, like the many times his affinity for duty and honor had made him rebuff me in the past, I'd sought out the one thing that was certain to get him outta my head.
Books.
And luckily, a mountain of them stared me right in the face, which is still my current position two hours later.
I have a bedside lamp placed over the cozy reading area of my bedroom's library space. The wall facing me is an aisle of books. Bent over the sultan desk, I don't even realize she's come in until the tips of her red flats appear in my line of sight. The seating area of the library is made comfortable by settees and a sturdy bamboo rocking chair. Seeing as the candles in the room are sparsely lit, the luxurious maple red decor is tamed from vision and only the oil lamp I'm using to read grants light from its pear-shaped glass case. A book about the Origins rests open before me. It's about religion in Mythronos. Apparently, the people of the Dead Empire worship many gods, and view their Regent at the time as the avatar of the divine. A visible conduit of their energy; the Spiritflame. The book is surprisingly detailed and—
Small hands drop to my shoulders and begin massaging, derailing my line of thoughts.
Yennara. When had she gone behind me?
I spare a glance towards her hands working away knots I didn't even know were there. Her nails are painted Barbie pink. I lift up a hand to adjust my reading glasses, the book open before me now completely forgotten. Her skin is also painted. A gorgeous splay of arty ink wraps around her forearm. It begins from the knuckle of her pinky, running up to wrap around her wrist before sweeping up to just below her elbow. It's vines. Leafy twists of the most elegant skin coloring. It's beautiful.
When had she gotten it?
She perceives my thoughts, replying quietly. "Yesterday, Your Grace. I got them yesterday."
Oh! I've missed her soft, calming voice. Just a day, and I've missed her.
It's then I realize that I've been absentmindedly rubbing a finger over the fine tattoos. This work is intricate, must have taken some time and concentration. As I trace the path of the tendrils, Yennara's fingers dip forward, across my collarbone. She skims the soft skin visible over my nightie, easing away the tension of withheld sexual release. But the tightness doesn't fully ebb away. It can't. Because it's in my head. The only rest now to slutty Allie is if she is—in the crudest simplicity—fucked thoroughly. Yennara's hands are good though. But even the expert fingers of my lovely masseuse can't contend with the sinful madness of a collision with Lance.
A striking thought crosses my mind.
What about Yen?
She mentioned being open to certain ...things. She could do for the time being. I think on the near passion we'd had a week past. In the bath pool. We'd nearly indulged ourselves. I know Yen would be more than happy to make a booty call. Our attraction has always been palpable. I could suggest it. And in seconds, we'd be twisting the sheets. I eye my large bed a feet away. So close. But I don't. It would be unfair to her for me to only come running for a quick romp after a rebuttal by Lance. She wouldn't object or take offense because she knows how much I want him. But I won't put her as an afterthought. When I do choose to run wild, I want to be thinking of her in the moment.
Her long legs. Her pink lips. Her shy smile. Her little devious side. Not Lance.
"You like?" Her voice reaches me from above.
I focus at her question, mentally juggling away other thoughts. I peer up. I'm still stroking across her tattoos.
"Oh, yes. I do." I push out a warm smile, closing my entire palm over the ink. "Very much."
Bending my head back, I look up to catch her hide a blush. It's shadowed in the candlelight. I can't help thinking if she bends down, just a little, I could finally get a taste of those pouty lips of hers. When I lick my lips, her brown eyes flare.
"How are you feeling, Your Grace?" She changes the subject. "You are pretty tight. I–I mean your shoulders," she hastily adds.
I smile. I'm not the only one with a deviant mind. Mhmm?
"I know what you mean, Yen." I pull up her hands from both ends of my shoulder and branch her fingers in mine. "Thank you," I speak up to her, realizing I haven't really offered my gratitude for her taking care of me after the damage done by the spell. Her face at the Throne room. I'd felt her hurt. "For being here always." I finish. To navigate this world, I need her. Yennara might just be my weakness after all.
"I appreciate it, Your Grace." She finally lets out a smile. It's a small one. I take it with a beam of mine. "But you don't need to. It's my job..." She moves from behind me, walking around to face me. I straighten my gaze. Levelling her eyes, she kneels before me on the spartan sofa. "...and I love it. Being your Lady-in-waiting is a honor. I do not take it for granted. Besides, I think you're the sexiest Regent to ever sit on the throne."
"What?" I balk. "Really! You think that?"
She nods. Something else sparkles in her eyes as she slides a warm hand up my thighs, taking the tan material of my nightie with her. "I reaallly think that." She stresses.
She is flirting. I know. But I catch her hand by the wrist before she tempts me to give in. Yennara only grins more, sitting back on folded knees in front of me. The sparks in her eyes don't dim one bit. In the candlelight, her pupils glow amber, like a flickering hearth. "So, Your Grace," Her grin spreads. "Are you going to tell me about your trip to the Guards Guild?"
"What?!" My cheeks burn. Oh no. No. No. No.
I didn't want anyone knowing about it. Most especially and certainly not Yennara. Hell no! "So the guards talk then?" I fake a frown. An effort to hide out the color in my cheeks. "Or was it the Handmaidens?"
Yennara's smile turns solar. She looks at me whimsically. I can tell she's trying not to laugh at my red face. I want to elbow her. "You are the Queen of a wealthy, independent Empire," she says. "Do you really think you can sneak around the Castle without anyone noticing? You have your Royal Guards, yes. But when it really comes down to it, it is the sworn duty of all officers in this castle to protect you. And protect you they will... especially when you're dressed as you were yesterday." She waggles her eyebrows at me.
My face is on fire. Oh, she's gonna get it now!
I swipe out my hand, lightly smacking her cheek. "You little devil."
She catches my thumb between her teeth, chuckling as she nips lightly. "If you wanted a quick fuck..." She spreads her legs below her, her gown falling to her hips, seductively, exposing a generous flash of thighs.
"Oh my god! Yen!" I pull out my finger from her mouth. "Stop it!"
She laughs, stealing my breath with her fanciful chuckles. Such a girly girl!
She nibbles on her bottom lip, deriving sinister joy in my ever-growing flush. "I should tell you now, Your Grace. I have little birds...that whisper in my ear. And unblinking eyes...that peer through invisible cracks in the castle's golden halls. I would never for a moment jeopardize your safety."
"Thank you." I sigh at her laid-back sincerity. And for a moment, I think she's done with flirting.
"—or needs," she adds, breaking into fresh laughter.
"You bitch!" I drag her by the hair as she screams a giggle, pulling her up to me. She comes up on her knees by the couch, her eyes level with mine. I shift in my seat, my fingers deep in her luxurious brown curls. Her laughter fades and she stares at me. I twist her head to the left, baring her neck. She complies too easily. The playful flirting is changed into desire. I see the vein in her neck, pulsing, and I want to bite her fair skin.
"If you're too chicken to let me massage you...or fuck you," she says in the smallest of whispers. "Then let me dance for you." She leaves her words hanging in the air, her little pools of chocolate daring me to say yes.
Dance?
"It's the reason I got dolled up. For you. All for you." She shivers in my grasp.
I get it a second later. The bright pink nails? The temporary ink? All for a dance?
It's then I really look over her dress. It's an enchanting black strip. A strip, that's all it is. She is not in her usual modest red and gold. My eyes flow back up to hers. Was she suggesting a striptease? Between being denied by Lance and the unreleased passion still coiled tight in the pit of my belly, my answer is a yes. A solid motherfuckin' Yes.
I've never been to a stripclub. In Yennara's suppliant eyes though, I feel the energy of anticipated nudity.
"Well, come on then." I rise from the couch, taking her up with me as I stand to my feet. By her soft waves, I pull her behind me to the bed. Though her hands are free, she doesn't stop me from dominating her. There's something in her eyes. An edge. A darkness. A submission.
I release her by the bed's edge, and slide up through the scarlet sheets until I meet with the ivory headboard. I prop myself up on two large pillows and face her squarely. She stands before me, a little bit shy, between the high ornamental posts of the bed. Her dress is provocative, insinuating but not displaying. The bedroom is awash in golden and crimson hues. It's the perfect blend of sadistic and sensual.
"Begin," I command her, adopting a masculine tone.
Lifting a hand first, she casually pulls out the silvery brooch hidden in her hair. She empties a brown flood and waves upon waves of thick brown hair comes tumbing down. Her hair is wavy and reaches her back. I wonder how long it is when straightened. This simple gesture makes me sigh into the pillow. I lean back to enjoy the view.
Being queen is a lot... interesting.
"I planned up a lot." Yennara twirls around for me, her hair swishing over a model figure. Her voice is velvety. An aroused whimper. "But," she turns a 360 to meet my shiny eyes again. "I can't wait any longer."
She can't wait. Wait, what?
With a sharp flick of her wrist, the single straps of her black shift drop down to her waist. I gasp instantly, squirming on the sheets.
Her breasts... She's beautiful. So beautiful she looks unreal. And she's right there. What is it about Mythronos and fulfilling my fantasies? Her tits are perky, will fit nicely in my hands. She's soft all over. Her nipples jut out, appealing to my eyes the extent of her arousal. She's downplaying it, a lot.
"I want your hands on me." She lifts rogue hands to cup herself, offering her plump flesh to me. She squeezes down on her breasts, pulling her nipples to points and pinching on the swollen nubs. She shakes them in her grasp and I watch her tattoos meld sweetly over her fair skin. Her hands run down her hip next and she turns to give me her back. She pulls up her long wave to expose all of her back as she faces away from me. She pulls down the black dress, having to actually shimmy out from it. It drops in pools to the soft rug of my bedroom floors. She quietly steps out of it.
And slowly, beautifully, she bends at the waist.
...until her fingers touch her toes.
I am granted a gorgeous view of her ass.
Crazy, this girl drives me crazy.
I drive up to a straight-spined position on the bed. Her legs are that of a cheetah. She is perfect. The candlelight bathes her until she's an angel. I want to smack that ass. I want to hear her moan. I want, and I want.
A mild breeze blows in and the shadowed part of her is revealed.
My eyes run up her legs in furious haste. I freeze between the juncture of her ass cheeks.
Mon Dieu? This girl has nothing on.
Such a cute little pussy.
Her ass is in my face. Her smell is in my bedroom. And though I want nothing more than to order her to me, sink my face into her like there's no tomorrow, and turn her fair skin peach, I grind my fingers into fists. Instead I say in a pained voice, "Thank you, Yennara. That will be all."
Quietly, she rises back up, pulls on her shift, bundles up her wealth of hair once more, and turns to me. "Your Grace," she bows. After a hitched second, she adds, "I will be here, always, Alessandria."
I stare until the door clicks shut behind her.
So this is how Lance had felt—wanting someone so much you could taste them on dry lips and choke on their smell, but holding back because indulging might ruin something beautiful with them.
It sucks.