Page 59 of A Dance of Water (Moon Song #2)
FALL ONTO ME
THAREN
A half-naked, wet female was on his lap.
"What the fuck?" Tharen growled.
Luella, clad in nothing but a soaking wet, thin robe, was pressed against him as he sat around the large oak table in Bastian’s advisory room. She shivered, hands curling around his shirt. Water droplets fell from her hair and wet his clothes. His lap was soaked, water puddled against the floor.
"W-what? What… h-happened?" Luella stammered. She shifted on his lap, and godsdamn it all to the Below he was already fucking aching.
They had just been in the midst of talks about the little Princess, and as if their thoughts had made her manifest, she popped into being, tumbling right onto Tharen’s lap.
A clamor of voices pierced the air.
Vale shot out of his seat, shock marring his features.
It took a lot to shock the King. Graves’s blue eyes were wide, the corners of his mouth turned down, making the pale scar on his face tighten.
The male was observant as he watched. Tharen knew the wheels in his mind were turning, it wouldn’t be long before the Knight figured out what had happened.
Bastian was the only one who was calm. Tharen guessed the vampire would already know—he was good at chipping away at secrets encased within the deepest parts of a mind.
"How did she get here?" Vale demanded, pointing a finger at the wet Princess on his lap.
Luella’s soft voice murmured, "Vale?" She reared back when Tharen raked his hands down her backside, pressing her flush against his front. She whimpered softly—but no sound escaped ears like theirs.
Fuck, Tharen was hard as a rock.
But how could he not be? She was trembling, wet, and draped over him like a gift from the Above.
"Hello, little lamb," Tharen whispered against the crown of her head. He moved her down against his thighs, feeling her slide against him. She shuddered; he knew she felt his hardness, even if she didn’t know what it was. He wouldn’t be surprised if she were that naive.
"Where… am I?" she asked, disconcerted. "How did I get here?"
"That is what I would like to know," said the King. He rounded the table and stood by Tharen’s side, reaching down to grip the back of her wet hair and tilt her head back.
The position was lewd. Pressed against Tharen’s lap, his arms locked around her, with Vale holding her head back and keeping her trapped between them. The lithe expanse of her neck was bared, and Tharen licked his lips.
The blindfold only made her more enticing.
Bastian’s eyes flashed dark red, and he stacked some thick parchment together, the rustle of pages filling the room. "Would you like to tell him, or should I?" Bastian said.
At the sound of the vampire’s voice, Luella melted on Tharen’s lap, some of the tension leaving her. "Bastian," she breathed. "How did I get h-here?"
Tharen curled his fingers around her waist, pressing his lips to her ear.
"Don’t tell me you’re that stupid, lamb.
You know." He pressed a hand over her thigh, where the wet material of her thin robe clung to every bit of her milky, soft skin.
Goosebumps erupted on her flesh as he trailed a finger up the side of her thigh.
"I wonder, what were you doing before you just… showed up?"
"I… I was?—"
Graves roughly pulled off his cloak and balled it up, throwing it at him. Tharen reached out and caught it before it could hit Luella in the face. She didn’t even flinch—he would have to work on that awareness. Tharen draped the cloak over her shoulders, sadly covering her vulnerable state.
Finally, Graves broke his silence… "Enough with the games, Tharen. Say what you’ve done."
"There it is," Tharen cajoled. "I knew you’d figure it out." He looked to Vale and said, "Come on, I’m sure you know, you just don’t want to admit I got the upper hand."
Vale’s whole body shook, smoke slowly leaking from his nostrils.
"Figure what out?" Luella curled her hand into a fist and weakly punched at his chest.
The doors to the advisory room banged open. Azgorath stood at the threshold, bare-chested, dripping water, and so angry that Tharen couldn’t hold back his deep laughter.
The demon’s amber eyes found Luella, wet and curled on Tharen’s lap, and he stormed forward, water dripping everywhere.
"Don’t get water on my floors." Bastian sighed, resting his chin on a hand.
"Shut up," the demon seethed. His horns curled over his head menacingly, nostrils flaring as he stood on the other side of Tharen, staring down the King at his other side.
Luella’s hands weakly fumbled in the air before her, searching for Azgorath. He took her hands gently and knelt, seeming not to care that he was so close to Tharen.
The demon mumbled gentle words to her, his dark brown curls hanging wetly around his face.
Tharen stared down his nose at him. Kneeling for a weak female… His lip curled.
"So, that’s who you were with," Tharen said. His hand snaked under Graves’s cloak, and he brushed a finger over her thigh. She twitched, clenching her thighs harder around him at the spark between them. "Are you feeling a little dissatisfied, lamb?"
A blush pinked her pale cheeks, but she said nothing.
Azgorath looked up at him. "I knew you had something to do with this, you bastard."
Tharen chuckled darkly.
The sound seemed to make Vale’s hold on his dragon snap, for burning embers filled the room, smoke wafting from the King’s nostrils as he all but roared, "Luella, tell me what you gave in your bargain to him."
She shifted awkwardly on Tharen’s lap, biting down hard on her bottom lip.
The moment seemed to stretch on, and Tharen wanted nothing more than to throw her back down on Bastian’s advisory table and coat it with their pleasure.
Fuck, the vampiric asshole would probably love to see her arousal glimmering on the oaken surface.
As if the vampire had heard his thoughts, Bastian gave the slightest of smiles.
The air was terse, and one of her hands fisted in Tharen’s shirt, the other white-knuckled as she held onto the demon.
Finally, she could remain silent no longer. She buried her head in Tharen’s neck, tiny breaths puffing against his skin as she whispered against him, "I… I offered up my first pleasure."
And chaos erupted.