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I thought a warrior wasn’t supposed to give into distractions.Or whatever horseshit line he fed me earlier.

Yes, he agrees,warriors shouldn’t give into distractions. Kings and queens, however…they can do whatever the fuck they please.

My mate doesn’t bother returning his steed to the corral. Instead, once we reenter camp, he steers the horse toward the tent we use for my reading and writing lessons. We’ve barely reached it when Memnon swings himself off the horse and wraps the reins around a nearby post.

Before I can finish dismounting, Memnon pulls me from the saddle, turning me in his arms and wrapping my legs around his waist as he carries me into the tent, heedless of the looks we’re getting.

I raise my eyebrows as I twine my arms around his neck but say nothing.

Inside the structure, the wax tablet and scrolls from our last lesson still sit out on the table. Memnon sweeps the items aside, letting them clatter to the ground so he can lay me out on the wooden table.

So what is it you want me to do?I ask. That, after all, was the big promise.

He places a hand on my chest, pinning me to the hard wooden surface.Many, many things.

Beneath his palm, his magic spreads, dragging my tunic off. His power moves down, tugging at the pants and boots I wear and shucking them off too.

No sooner have they left my body than Memnon steps between my legs. His arms come under my hips, and the table groans as he lifts my entire pelvis up, dipping his head to?—

I cry out as his lips meet my folds, then try to snatch the sound back. We didn’t place a spell on the tent to muffle our sounds; anyone could hear us.

Memnon places one of my legs, then the other, over his shoulders, then dips his head back down. I bite my lower lip hard to stifle another cry.

Louder, Memnon commands.I wanteveryoneto hear you, my queen.

There’s no magical compulsion in the order, but…

Whatever you want, I told him. I meant it too.

So when he sucks that extra-sensitive fold of skin into his mouth, I don’t muffle my cry.

My hands grapple for purchase, but there’s nothing but the edges of the table to hold on to.

Memnon’s mouth stays right on that spot, swirling, teasing, even nipping. I whimper at the flood of sensation as it builds and builds and?—

His mouth moves away from it, and I gasp out a wordless protest. I’m close to climaxing.

Please, Memnon, I beg.

Say it out loud, he commands, his grip tightening.

“Please, Memnon,” I pant. My fingers move to his hair, twisting in his short locks as I try to maneuver his mouth back to where it left me most breathless, but still, he resists.

Louder, so our people can hear you.

This insufferable king!

“Gods take me, Memnon! Give me my orgasm!”

He grins.I love it when you get commanding.His mouth returns to that place just above my opening, and lazily he sucks on that small fold of skin. It’s so much sensation yet not quite enough.

I suppose I can give you an orgasm, he says down our bond,but only if you promise to be loud.

My face heats at the prospect. I know everybody in this city hears everyone else, but I’m still unused to this.

Whatever you want. I throw my earlier words back at him.

He smiles wolfishly at me, unrepentant, before returning to his ministrations. Memnon redoubles his efforts, his magic slipping into my pussy like phantom fingers. That’s all it takes.