Page 37 of Gold Sector

“I don’t want to push your boundaries, Taliana,” I explain. “I need you to trust me and be comfortable with me. Which means you have to tell me if I’m doing something you dislike. And if you can’t formulate the words, just say ‘Rumpel.’?”

“Rumpel,” she repeats. “Why do they call you that?”

It’s not really relevant to our conversation, but it’s a welcome distraction. Because I can feel myself losing control. Especially with her tits so close to my chest.

And her cunt inches from my aching knot.

“Rumpelstiltskin,” I grate out.

Which naturally deepens her frown. “What?”

“It’s a fairy tale.”

“Okay…” She blinks at me.

“About an imp,” I go on. “Once upon a time, a miller claimed his daughter could spin straw into gold. The king of their land found out, took the girl, and demanded that she prove it. Except it was all a lie.”

“Why would he lie?”

“Fame,” I suggest, glancing over her. “There are a lot of reasons people lie.”

Or set traps,I think.

But I don’t add that part out loud.

“Regardless, it was a lie. So an imp agrees to help her by spinning the straw into gold for her in exchange for her necklace. The king, naturally, is delighted at her proven talent and demands more. Thus, the imp helps again, this time for her ring. And the king declares that if she can do it a third time, he’ll wed her.”

“Because he believes her lie,” Taliana says slowly.

“Exactly.”

“Well, does she tell him the truth?” she presses, her gaze searching mine as though she’s intrigued to know how this tale ends.

“No. She makes a deal with the imp instead.”

“More jewelry in exchange for gold?” she guesses.

I shake my head. “When he returns to offer help, she says she has nothing else to trade. So he requests her firstborn instead.”

Taliana gasps. “Oh, no. So then she tells the king the truth?”

I chuckle and shake my head again. “Of course not. She agrees to the exchange—her firstborn for more gold—so she can wed the king.”

Taliana looks positively distraught. “What?”

Well, perhaps this discussion was a wise one to have after all. Because that was a telling response. “She chooses to become a queen, basically, over her firstborn,” I say, shrugging like that doesn’t bother me. When in reality, it very much does. “Which?—”

“Howcould someone do that?” she interjects, her cheeks bright red with fury. “What a ridiculous choice. She should have just told the truth.”

“The king might have killed her,” I point out. “Or ousted her and her father, at a minimum.”

“Both are preferable outcomes to giving up a child,” she snaps, clearly furious. “What a horrible story.”

I arch a brow. “I haven’t even finished it yet.”

“I don’t think I want to know how it ends.” She looks away, her face contorting into a cute little pout. “Actually, no. I need to know. Does she… keep her child? Or not have one?”

“Oh, she has one. And she immediately realizes how wrong she was to agree to the deal.”