Murmurs of agreement rippled through the hall.
His other hand slipped beneath the fabric of her smallclothes.
The touch was electric, unwanted, and her body jerked in response. He laughed softly, the sound vibrating against her back.
"So responsive," he purred. "And we've barely begun."
He explored her slowly, deliberately, one hand between her legs while the other continued its assault on her breasts, switching from one to the other, pulling the second strap down until she was bare from the waist up. His fingers mapped every fold and curve while the court watched. She felt her face burning, felt shame crawling up her throat, but she didn't fight. Couldn't fight. Every time she started to close her legs, his hand abandoned her breast to grip her thigh in warning, keeping her spread wide.
His hand left her thigh and slid to her hip, fingers toying with the bunched silk of her dress. He traced along the seam, lazy and possessive, and Briar's heart stopped.
The vial. He was inches from the vial.
His fingers dipped beneath the fabric, exploring the curve of her hip, moving closer to that hidden pocket with every passing second. If he found it, if he felt that small glass shape against his fingers—
"Please." The word came out before she could stop it, desperate and breathy.
Malus stilled. His fingers paused their exploration, hovering dangerously close to the vial's hiding spot.
"Please what?" His voice was low, curious, delighted.
She shifted in his lap, arching her back, pressing herself more firmly against his chest. Her hand found his wrist and pulled, guiding his fingers away from her hip and back between her thighs.
"Touch me," she gasped. "I need—please, I need you to touch me."
The court murmured. Malus laughed, the sound rich with surprised pleasure.
"Well, well." His breath was hot against her ear. "Perhaps you aren't pretending after all."
His hand followed where she'd led it, fingers sliding back through her slick folds, and she nearly sobbed with relief even as fresh shame flooded through her. She'd just begged him to touch her. In front of everyone. And he believed it.
"So eager," he purred. "I knew you'd come around eventually."
Malus rewarded her with a stroke that made her hips jerk, his other hand returning to pinch her nipple hard enough to make her cry out. He knew exactly what he wasdoing, exactly how to make her body respond even as her mind screamed. His fingers circled, pressed, retreated, building sensation she didn't want to feel.
"See how she responds?" he announced to the watching court. He rolled her nipple again, pulling it taut. "And these pretty breasts—look how they flush when she's aroused."
Humiliation burned through her. Her body was betraying her, responding to his touch even as revulsion churned in her stomach. She could feel arousal building despite everything, her hips twitching involuntarily toward his hand.
"That's it," he crooned. "Stop fighting. Let them see how good I make you feel."
His fingers found a rhythm, steady and relentless. She tried to stay quiet, tried to deny him the satisfaction, but small sounds kept escaping—gasps and whimpers she couldn't quite suppress. Each one made his smile grow wider.
"I've imagined this so many times." His breath was hot against her throat. "How you'd sound when you finally stopped fighting. How your face would look when you realized there was nothing left to hold onto." His fingers twisted and she cried out. "Even better than I dreamed. Every fracture, every break—I want to remember all of it."
He shifted beneath her, adjusting the angle of his hand, and the new position made her see stars. His hand left her breast, wrapping loosely around her throat. Not squeezing, just resting there, a reminder of how completely he controlled her.
"Look at them," he commanded. "Look at my court while I take you apart."
She forced her eyes open, forced herself to see the sea of faces watching her degradation. Some looked hungry. Others bored, as if this were just another evening's entertainment. A few wouldn't meet her eyes at all.
The pleasure was building now whether she wanted it or not, coiling tight in her belly, her thighs beginning to tremble.
"You're close," he observed. "I can feel it. All those muscles tightening, your pulse racing." He bit her earlobe, just hard enough to sting. "Come for me, Briar. Come for my court."
She didn't want to. Willed herself not to. But his fingers knew exactly where to press, exactly how to move, and her body didn't care about her dignity or her shame or the eyes watching her fall apart.
The orgasm hit her without warning, sharp and intense, ripping a cry from her throat that echoed through the silent hall. Her back arched against Malus's chest, herlegs trembling over the chair arms, completely unable to close or hide. He kept stroking through it, drawing it out, making her writhe and gasp until she was shaking and oversensitive and nearly sobbing.
