“Exactly.” Zilo nods over and over again. So much so that it’s a hypnotic repetition, like he’s trying to cast a spell to make the words real.
I can practically hear the carousel of chanting from his little mind minions now:
I won’t use my cock for good deeds. I won’t use my cock for good deeds. I won’t use my cock for good deeds.
I can’t take it anymore.
They’re exhausting.
“All settled then?” I ask in the most announcing voice I possess.
Zilo jolts in his chair while Roman simply passes his gaze my way. They both stare hard at me for so long that it’s difficult not to shift beneath their warm attention. I keep my arms folded with a stance of carelessness I don’t quiet feel.
“I thought you were entertaining the Prince this morning,” Zilo asks with more anger than I’ve heard in his tone since I walked into this so called Formal Torture Room.
“No…” I hang on the confusion of his question, and it only seems to further crease his smooth bronze skin with a look of panic.
“Fuck.”
Fuck?
Fuck indeed.
I stand surrounded by the three concerned looking men in the dark hallway. It’s empty and makes me feel small in the hanging grandeur of it all.
They’re concerned partly because I’mout here, and partly because someone a bit more vocal isin there. With the Prince.
Her moans are a drowning thing. More performance than pleasure. Higher and higher, her screams echo. Unsteadily they fall until she seems to remember her role she’s playing, and then they pitch all over again.
“Oh, just come already. It’s sex not a theater production,” I complain.
Zilo nudges me to quiet down as the four of us lurk outside the Prince’s chambers. “Shh,” he hisses.
I roll my eyes.
“As if anyone could hear us right now. The wolves in my realm are probably picking up on Moaning Martha in there.” My arms fold hard.
“Are you jealous?” Romey asks, leaning against the wall at my side as he folds his arms and really studies me. I feel his gaze grazing my side profile but I don’t give into the urge to peer up at him and his warm closeness.
“Uh, I guess I’m supposed to be. Yeah. So jealous right now.”
I can’t take the pulling demand and I look up at him, my cheek nearly brushing his bare chest when I do. His smirk that’s normally so cruel is almost infectious. It pulls at my own lips simply from seeing him smile. He so rarely really smiles. He smirks and cackles all day but so seldomly ever seems happy.
His gaze slips lower from my eyes to my lips. His warmth fully envelopes me, sinking in ever so slowly before settling low into my belly.
Why am I leaning into him?
“You should be jealous,” Zilo snaps, ripping the meager happiness right out from under us. “You’re losing, Cersia.”
Losing. Wow. Okay. I hadn’t realized a one-night stand was the prize here.
“She should be about in the mornings,” Avian advises. “Available.”
What does that even mean?Be about what in the mornings.Be about what? Available for what?
“Yeah, and she should wear more perfume. It’s about the pheromones,” Roman adds with a glint in his pale green eyes that tells me he’s being a total cock guzzler right now.
“That’s a good idea,” Zilo says while pushing his glasses up to really think this puzzle out. “Maybe tighter pants. Tight pants are always good on a mate. Shows the bearing hips.”
