Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
I wet my lips and took a breath.
“There’s more?”
“Oh, Lake Girl, there is so much more.”
His fingers swiped, dragging a ragged moan from somewhere deep inside me as his touch hit me just right.
The friction continued and a slow fire burned through my veins.
“More?” Jet asked, sounding breathless himself.
“Yes,” I gasped. But then his hand moved away, making me straighten. “No!”
“Shh. You’ll see,” he said as his fingers pushed under the front of my waistband. “Trust me.”
There was a trembling awareness beneath my skin as my breath hitched in halves, waiting for what he was going to show me next.
Shock jolted through me when I felt his bare fingers against the core of me, his deft touch finding that innermost part of me, then stroking across it with perfect precision.
A long, low moan slipped between my lips as the pleasure jolted through me.
There was no time to process the sensation as his finger started to circle the point of desire, making my chest squeeze and my mind go blank until all that was left was him.
“I can’t… I don’t…”
“You don’t have to do anything,” Jet told me, voice soft. “Just let me take care of you.”
My fingers tightened on his arm as he kept curling, kept driving me up. Toward what, I wasn’t sure, but I knew I needed to get there.
“There’s more,” he murmured, his heavy-lidded gaze on mine. “Do you want it?”
Words completely failed me as the heat inside intensified, as a heavy weight pushing on my stomach. All I could manage was a tight nod.
A rumble moved through Jet as his thumb kept circling, but a finger moved down, pressed against the opening of me, creating a pressure I didn’t understand.
Then his finger slid inside me, the sensation smooth and slick and foreign.
“Jet?” I whimpered, heated, needy, confused.
“Just feel it,” he instructed. “Don’t think.”
My other arm moved up, wrapping around the back of his neck as I leaned in, giving in to the desire to be closer, to have no distance between us at all.
“There you go,” he said, his breath warm on my ear as his finger started to move inside me.
I could think of nothing but the slide of him inside me, of the brush of his finger against me.
It was all too much yet enough until my whole body clenched and unraveled, pleasure coursing through me, wave after wave. Crying out, I clung to Jet.
His hand slid away afterward, but he let me stay close as little trembles moved through me. His lips brushed my ear. “And that’s just a teaser. But all we have time for now.”
A strange sound escaped me as he moved away, leaving me alone in the study to pull myself back together.
I still felt wobbly-legged and loose-limbed as I made my way across the hall just as Vishen was bringing in two large buckets of water to pour into the larger one in the shower.
“I passed Nira on the way in,” Vishen explained. “She should be right up with a dress.”
“Where did she find one so fast?” I asked. When I’d been brought to the castle, we hadn’t passed anything, let alone a market, for miles.
“Best guess is someone in a nearby home might be temporarily missing a gown,” Vishen said with a little smile.
“I will have the seamstress brought in tomorrow. Get the gowns for the formal events started but also some daily dresses.”
“Isn’t that too much for one woman?”
“She can find help. That’s not our problem,” Jet said, shrugging. “Take your shower. We don’t want to be late. Trust me,” he added, voice smaller.
With that, I made my way into the water closet, stripped, and took a shower as I worked myself into knots about meeting this mad king I’d been hearing so much about already.
But as I slipped into a red gown, took a long sip of my lake water, and followed Jet down the stairs in complete silence, I didn’t realize just how unprepared I was to come face to face with Jet’s father.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jet
Dinners in the palace were now served nearly two hours earlier than they used to be a few years before. It was a change I’d made a half an hour at a time for months when it became clear that the more tired my father grew, the less control he had over himself and his manic ranting and ravings.
One small perk with his loosening grip on reality was it was easier to manipulate him in small ways.
“Dinner’s always been at six,” I said when he complained about the hour one night. He’d stared at me, brows pinched. But he hadn’t fought me on it.
I was hoping it was a good night. For Serin’s sake.
She was taut as a bow beside me, her breath quick and shallow, her eyes wide.
It worked in her favor that we were sticking to the ‘she doesn’t speak’ thing. It would allow her to be in the room without needing to participate in my father’s games. She was too naive, too protected, and too soft for my father’s particular brand of cunning wickedness. She couldn’t handle his mind games. I’d been living with him my entire existence, and he could still best me at times.