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I’m staring right at him.

He pushes the plunger unblinkingly, the edge of his jaw taut as he shoots another load into me. My mind races with questions. Did he whack off twice, or is it like with Pace, where there’s just so much of it from one orgasm that a single syringe couldn’t contain it? What does that mean?

I inhale sharply when he pulls the syringe out, because I feel the warmth of it dribbling out.

“Shit.” Lex jolts, catching it with two latex-covered fingers as he guides it back to my hole.

The second his fingers enter me, I come.

It’s quick and seizing, my body fluttering violently, and all I can do is gasp and let it happen. Lex’s eyes fly up to lock with mine, looking almost as stunned as I feel about it, and I struggle to find my voice.

“Yesterday… Wicker was…” I clamp down around his fingers without meaning to, watching as Lex’s jaw tics. “He doesn’t, ugh–you know.”

Somehow Lex puts it together, and even though his clinical expression returns, he still arches a brow. “He fucked you six times in one day and didn’t get you off once?”

The question is rhetorical, but I glower up at the ceiling as I shrug. I can’t possibly voice the frustration swirling in my lungs, which isn’t even really about Wicker. It’s not even about Pace, who enjoys torturing me to the point of absolute madness, and then sends me back to my room, leaking and painfully sensitive. It’s not even about the fact I can’t just take care of myself, because I know now that Pace and the King have eyes in every little corner of this mansion.

It’s that the orgasm Lex just accidentally gave me was fast and fleeting and utterly disappointing, and it’s all I’ll get until the next time I find myself back here in these godforsaken stirrups.

Pleasure doesn’t live within these walls. It’s not a part of the covenants. It’s completely unrelated–frivolous, even–to the duty of creating an heir.

I understand that.

My body doesn’t.

Lex watches me, standing as his fingers recede, and I clutch onto them without meaning or wanting to, my body clenching. “You wanted him to, didn’t you?” he says, and there’s something about the cadence of the question, deep and smooth, that makes my nerves flare to life.

And then, planting his free palm onto the table beside my hip, he fucks his fingers back into me, hard and pointed.

“Oh, god.” I gasp, bucking into the heel of his palm.

The tendons in his wrist flex as he shifts his shoulder, fucking in deeper. “You wanted to beg for it, but you wouldn’t. Not that I blame you. Wicker’s ego is big enough.” His amber eyes pin me as he licks out, wetting his lips. “But you’re going to beg for me.”

Curling my fists, I jolt my hips up. “Please.”

“That easy?” His eyelids grow heavy as he watches the motions of my body, his thumb caressing my clit. “It must have been good with Wicker. I bet you didn’t want it to be. You probably tried so hard not to like it–not to want his perfect cock to hit just the right place and have you screaming out his name.”

My eyes slam closed as I shudder. “Oh, fuck.”

He’s right.

God, he’s right.

Wicker might be ugly on the inside, but on the outside, he’s sex incarnate. It’s why it’s best not to watch him when he’s drilling into me, because even the way he moves is unbearably erotic. And not just him. Pace, with all his dark intensity, somehow knows exactly how far to get me before yanking the rug out from beneath my feet.

Lex’s velvety voice goes on, “I could tell the second I sat down here, smelling how wet you were.” I hear him take a loud inhale, his fingers twisting inside of me. The next time he speaks, his voice is closer, his body curved over the table as he husks down at me. “God, you’re fucking dripping. Did you get this wet for him?” My eyes fly open and I see him hovering there, his amber eyes blazing as his fingers fuck into me. “Does he know what it feels like to see you squirming like a slut for it?”

“No.” It’s an unintentional moment of honesty. Wicker’s never come close to seeing me like this, writhing in desperation as I clutch for my sanity.

Lex’s eyes flash with surprise, but it’s gone just as fast, his mouth parting to whisper, “Just me, then.”

It’s the thought more than anything–the implication that this is a secret we’re sharing–that makes the fireworks erupt, hot and sudden, as his thumb works over my clit.

I can’t stop the whimper that pours loose as I seize. “Lex.”

When my eyes flutter open again, it’s to the sight of a lock of his hair, jerking and falling with each puff of breath from his flared nostrils.

He’s staring at my chest, two fingers still buried deep inside me.