Page 75 of Their Blood Queen
“Ride it,” I growl, giving her one last chance to obey me.
Or else I’ll do exactly as I said. I will drag her right into that ballroom and let her see what humiliation really looks like.
Scarlett will be offended, no doubt. I’ll have to explain, apologize, grovel, even. But at least I’ll be a man of my word.
If nothing else, I have my honor.
Lady Eleanor steels her jaw, giving me a look of determination as she rises on her knees, then positions her hips. She holds on to the edge of the chaise lounge as she makes a show of sliding onto the hilt.
Fuck.
I watch as she slowly moves up and down, coating the hilt with her juices as she obeys me. It takes everything in me not to move, not to even breathe.
She’s not moaning, though. I need her to play the whore she pretends to be.
“Touch yourself while you ride it,” I add.
“You can touch,” she offers seductively as she bats her eyelashes at me. She rolls her hips with an expert motion I’ve been on the receiving end of before, one that twists and makes me want to explode. “I won’t tell anyone.”
The stupid cunt is still trying to bait me. But it’s exactly what I need to rein in my lust and make sure this ends my way.
“Touch yourself, Eleanor.”
She bites her lip, then finally obeys me and rolls her fingers over her clit. A shudder of pleasure ripples through her, making her nipples harden as she finally loses herself to the moment.
She likes it when I’m cruel. She thinks that like all the other times, I’ll pay her back in riches or favors out of guilt.
No, this time I have no regrets. No guilt.
She tried to blackmail me. Her threat was to tell Scarlett about the scar on my lower hip she had given me during similar blade play. If Scarlett knows about my dark tendencies, she might not agree to our pairing.
The truth is the scar could have been from anything, and the fact that Eleanor knows about it wouldn’t be secret. I have regular doctor examinations with a public record of any scars. Had Lady Eleanor actually looked me up in the eligible bachelor records, she would have seen that the scar was part of a public health document anyone could read about. Scarlett herself probably already knows of it.
Eleanor’s blackmail held no real threat to me. Maybe an inconvenience, but now I’ve worked it all out.
I’m going to show her what happens to those who find themselves on my bad side.
“Come for me, Eleanor,” I say with a tender voice.
She falls for my fake charm and flutters her eyelashes closed as she rubs herself harder, sinking on the hilt as a spasm finally overtakes her body. She moans and leans back, drawing out her orgasm until she finally slides off of the hilt and her wetness drips down the blade to stain the couch.
“That’s a good girl,” I praise her as I fist her hair.
She opens her mouth to say something, but it turns into a scream when I yank and drag her onto the floor.
I’m going to need a scapegoat for the story already weaving in my head of Eleanor’s humiliation. So I dig out the anti-aging tonic in my pocket and smash it onto the ground. The magic instantly dissipates, but the signature will be unmistakable.
It might be a waste of a valuable potion, but this is how I’ll ruin her.
“Have fun being tonight’s entertainment for our monster guests,” I shout over my shoulder as I walk away.
The temperature in the air drops as I feel like I’m walking through a dark cloud of disapproval. Maybe a monster was already watching the show. It wouldn’t be uncommon.
I still did nothing wrong. I served justice for an enemy of my house.
“I’m finished here. She’s all yours,” I say to the disembodied entity.
A growl rumbles in return. For some reason, I don’t feel like this monster is going to take the bait.