I chew thoughtfully on my food for a minute. If Rhydian is in a chatty mood, I need to take advantage of it. But I need to be clever. He is an asshole, but he is not stupid. He will know if I am blatantly fishing for information.
“If you are all princes,” I say. “Where is the king?”
“Back in the fey realm.”
“So he has put you in charge of Earth?”
I feel him shake his head. “Only Britain. Other fey courts have taken other countries.”
This is stuff I already know from being glued to my television for the first few weeks of the invasion. But it is good that Rhydian is telling me himself. Unless he is only speaking it precisely because it is such common knowledge.
I take a deep breath and fight off a wave of despondency. He is talking to me. We are having a fairly normal conversation. This is progress.
“Why are we sitting like this?” I ask.
“Practice,” he all but grunts.
Great, we are down to monosyllabic answers.
“Practice for what?” I say and damn do I sound far too forcefully cheerful.
“Banquets.”
My stomach twists and coldness washes over me. “You are going to start showing me off?”
I knew it had to be coming. There is no other reason to take me because of who my father is, if not to bragand demonstrate the fact to those he wants to impress. But I was stupidly hoping for more time. Not that it will ever be something I will enjoy. All the time in the world won’t change that. But I still wanted it to be a problem for future-me, not now-me.
“Yes,” he says.
Fine. I give up. It is like trying to have a conversation with a brick wall.
Rhydian lifts up a jewel encrusted goblet and takes a sip. His free hand snakes down to my waist and pulls on something. I squeak as my robes fall open, exposing me to the evening air. And just like that, a rush of reaction floods my body and my mind. My heartbeat quickens. My mouth goes dry. My muscles start to tremble. But yet again, it is not all fear. A dark and twisted arousal is surging through me. I want him to do something to me. I am yearning for him to take charge of my body and fill me with pleasure.
Does this mean I’m sick and perverted? Or is it because I haven’t been able to touch myself and all my pent up horniness is getting out of hand? It could be a bit of both, I suppose.
Rhydian’s cold fingers trail across my naked chest. I shiver. My nipples pebble, but he ignores them. His hand traces lazily down. Skimming over my stomach and dipping down to my silk covered cock that is already half hard. His long fingers wrap around my length, and I gasp. His hand glides up and down and the feel of the soft silk moving over my cock is divine. I whine and throw back my head.
He starts stroking me in earnest, long, firm, rhythmic strokes. The magic bag covering me heats and tingles. A wet sensation blooms. I’m encased in wet, tight heat andRhydian is pumping me exquisitely. The perfect amount of pressure and movement.
I’m rock hard now and if he keeps this up, I’m going to blow embarrassingly soon. I want to comment on how he said my pleasure was not to come from my cock, but I bite my tongue before the words spill out. I don’t want him to stop. I don’t want him to ever stop. This feels too damn good. I’m moaning like a whore and my hips are thrusting up into his grip, and I don’t even care.
My head is spinning and my soul singing. It is far more than mere carnal pleasure that is giving me this high. There is an unexpected sense of warmth and fondness cocooning me.
I’m leaning all my weight against his muscled chest, and it feels like being held. His thighs are either side of my hips, but it feels as if they are hugging me, not restraining. Something about the way he is touching me feels tender. Caring almost. I may be losing my mind, but I swear he is holding on to me as if he needs me, as if this is the closest thing to affection he ever receives.
He picks up the pace and now I’m keening. My body is on fire. My every nerve ending is alight. I feel as if I’m going to explode and disintegrate into a hundred thousand atoms.
His free hand drifts over to a nipple. His thumb gently moves my firm nub in delicious circles. A feeling like electricity tingles straight from my nipple to my cock, where it adds to the overwhelming cacophony of other sensations.
His head lowers and gently nudges my head to the side, exposing my neck to him. Warm, soft lips fix onto my skin and suck, and the sensation is too much.
I explode. I fall apart. I’m screaming and arching and squirting cum into the confines of the bag. I’m on fire. Burning hotter than the sun. But I’m not disintegrating. I’m going to survive.
I’m gasping for air. Trembling and half blind. But by some miracle, I’m alive.
Rhydian picks me up, dumps me in my own chair and strides away. I stare at the door he disappeared through and try to remember how to breathe.
He is a confusing man. He took me as a bed pet, but I have done nothing for him. He keeps rocking my world, but I haven’t even touched him. At first he claimed it was training, but I’m not convinced. There is something more going on here. Is he ever going to take me?
