"Would you like that?" He leaned in closer, nibbling my earlobe.
I was panting hard, feeling faint. "I..."
"Do not lie to me again, girl."
"Yes," I whispered, realizing it was not only the answer he wanted to hear, but it was also the cold, honest truth.
He brought his face closer—our noses almost touching.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, sire."
"No." He shook his head. "Tell me what you want me to do to you."
"I... want you to… fuck me… sire."
Then I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut as waves of embarrassment and anger crashed over me in alternating tides. The heat of shame burned across my cheeks, making my skinfeel fevered and exposed under his penetrating gaze. How dare he speak to me with such crude intimacy? How dare he reduce me to nothing more than a vessel for his desires?
Yet beneath the indignation, a treacherous part of my mind whispered that his words had awakened something dark and wanting within me—something that made my pulse quicken and my breath catch in ways I didn't fully understand. The embarrassment wasn't just from his brazen questions but from my own body's traitorous response to them.
I felt caught between two warring impulses: the urge to take my revenge out on him and the inexplicable desire to lean closer, to discover what other forbidden words might fall from his lips. The anger provided a blessed shield against the vulnerability threatening to overwhelm me, but even that felt fragile against the weight of his presence.
CHAPTER TWELVE
-GUIN-
"Look at me," the king demanded.
My eyes flashed open. "I... apologize for... displeasing you, sire."
He chuckled again. "You wanting me to fuck you doesn't displease me, little temptress."
I didn't know what to say to that, so I said nothing at all, my throat constricting around words that refused to form. The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken implications and dangerous undercurrents.
All the while, I berated myself mercilessly for getting so thoroughly caught up. I was supposed to be detached, immune to the charms I was meant to exploit. Calm and collected—that was what years of training had been designed to instill in me. I was supposed to be cataloging his weaknesses, searching for leverage I could use against him.
Instead, here I sat like some village maiden struck dumb by her first encounter with a man, crumbling under the weight of his piercing blue gaze and the heat that seemed to radiate from his imposing frame. My mission—the reason Merlin had sentme into the heart of enemy territory—felt as distant as the stars above Annwyn.
"Tell me, have you ever been fucked?"
Shock coursed through me at his nerve, but I knew I had to answer. "No, Your Majesty."
His brows lifted. "You—such a beautiful creature."
"No, sire."
He leaned closer, breath warm against my ear. "A man has never known the feel of the inside of you?" His voice was low, intimate, yet it still carried that edge.
Heat seared through me, pooling low and spreading until my fingertips tingled. Merlin's training—combat and subterfuge—had never prepared me for this type of battle.
"Has a man ever felt the slick heat of your cunt?" he whispered, raising gooseflesh across my body.
"N-no, sire."
It was the truth.
His eyes narrowed to slits of blue, studying me like a hawk eyeing prey. "You are an unspoiled maid then?"
