Page 28 of Pawn of the Cruel Princess

I cannot trust him. Not now, not ever.

I push the padded stool from the desk behind the couch and plant myself on it. My view is the low, curved back of the sofa, the back of Jan’s head, and part of her lap. And I have a full view of Ducayne as he moves off the sofa and kneels before my maid.

His black hair is unbound today, scattered over his shoulders. His tunic hangs loose at the neck, showing the cleft of his throat and the strong lines of his collarbones.

“If I may,” he says softly to Jan, and she nods, moving her knees apart.

He pushes her skirts up, slowly, keeping his eyes on mine. “First, Your Highness, I help the subject feel comfortable.” He kisses the inside of Jan’s knee tenderly, then her inner thigh, just above her stocking. Another kiss, slightly higher.

I’m mesmerized by the semicircle fringes of his dark lashes as his eyes close, as he focuses himself entirely on my maid. Her breathing has already changed, growing shallower as he works his way up, kissing and stroking her skin. There’s a brief pause while he removes her panties, and then he spreads her thighs wider.

“Scoot to the edge for me, love,” he says to Jan, and my whole body lights up. My lower belly feels as if it’s glowing inside, warm and ready.

“You’re so lovely,” Ducayne says, and though his fingers are playing beneath the edge of Jan’s bunched skirts, he’s looking right at me. “You’re wet for me, darling. Admit it.”

“I’m wet for you,” says Jan faintly. “Oh, gods.”

My lips part, and I shift on the stool. Ducayne flashes me a wild, wicked, beautiful grin, and then he plunges in.

His face is concealed between my maid’s legs, behind the roll of crumpled skirts that she clutches out of his way. I can only see the top of his head, but whatever he’s doing to her is working. Her breath is hitching higher, faster—she takes one hand from her skirts and bites her wrist, writhing. Then she sinks that same hand reflexively into Ducayne’s dark hair. He moans enthusiastically, moving his face deeper into her sex.

I hate the two of them with such ferocity I think I might split apart.

Jan squeals and bucks as he braces both palms against her thighs, still working her with his mouth. She comes with a shriek, her body twisting, her legs shaking and jerking.

I watch her reaction, astonished beyond the point of embarrassment. I pleasure myself now and then, but I’ve never approached the level of ecstasy that my maid is apparently experiencing.

As she comes down from the peak, gasping, Ducayne’s head keeps bobbing gently. He’s soothing her through the last of it.

When he finally lifts his face, he’s flushed and glowing, and his lips gleam wetly. He licks his mouth, a sinfully languid sweep of his tongue. His eyes seem darker than ever, dark with desire.

“I can make the experience last longer, if the occasion calls for it,” he says. “And that, my Princess, is how I please a woman.”

My Princess.

My Princess, my Princess…myPrincess.

His words keep echoing in my head. I can barely form a coherent sentence. “Well, Jan—in your opinion, did he perform this skill reasonably well?”

“Oh yes, my lady,” she says breathlessly. “Best I’ve had from a man’s mouth.”

“Good.” Grudgingly I meet my thrall’s eyes again. “Are you—are you equally good at doing that to a man?”

Ducayne wipes his mouth on his sleeve. “Never used my mouth on a man before. But I’ve had good head many times myself, and I think I can do the job well. If your Highness wants me to call in your bodyguard Penn, for practice—”

“No!” The word is louder and sharper than I intended, so I rein in my voice. “No, that won’t be necessary. Jan, you may go whenever you’re ready.”

Ducayne helps her up, holds her panties while she steps into them, adjusts her garters and settles her skirts in place. I have to fight myself not to dismiss Jan on the spot. But she’s been my maid for years. I can’t banish her for doing what I commanded.

“Thank you,” Jan says to Ducayne. “And thank you, Princess.”

She leaves the study, and I hear the bedroom door shut behind her.

I stay on the stool.

Ducayne faces me from his side of the sofa, his legs braced slightly apart. There’s a notable bulge in his pants.

“You want to fuck her,” I say.