Mangus rose slowly, and moved to me. He stopped right in front of me, but didn't touch me, even though the heat of him seemed to burn through my gown and scorched my skin. "It is simple, little filly. You'll do as we say. Or would you like a reminder on how I will handle defiance?"
Another shiver ran through me, equal parts fear and need. I shook my head, but my voice betrayed me, trembling. "I don't even know where to begin."
Leighton stood now too, moving to my other side. The two of them caged me in without a single touch, their presence nearly overwhelming.
"You don't need to know, love," he said gently, though his eyes gleamed with unspoken desire. "You'll listen. You'll obey. And when you're ready, you'll discover just how sweet your own touch can be."
Magnus inclined his head toward the chaise. "Sit, Lisa."
I hesitated a fraction too long, my heart thrumming like a frightened bird's wings, until his sharp, commanding look had me sinking down into the cushions before I could even think to resist.
My palms flattened against the silk, my breath shallow. Their gazes on me were heavy and expectant.
"Good girl," Leighton murmured, the words sending a rush of heat to my cheeks.
"Now..." Magnus growled. "Show us those hands."
I lifted my hands, palms open, trembling. They looked ordinary enough. Roughened from years of working on the farm, but well tended and cared for. But in the moment, they felt foreign. Like they belonged to someone else.
Leighton crouched before me, his scar catching the light, his smile easy but his eyes sharp as a blade. He took one of my hands, turning it over as though studying something precious. “These,” he said softly, brushing his thumb across my knuckles, “will do more for you than you’ve ever imagined. Trust me.”
“Trust him,” Magnus echoed from behind me, his tone firm, leaving no room for refusal. His presence loomed at my back, heavy, grounding. “But first—look at us.”
I raised my eyes, only to be caught between them. Leighton’s warmth, Magnus’s command. A trap I didn’t want to escape.
Magnus’s voice slid down my spine. “Now, take one hand to your skirts. Slowly. Don’t rush. Let us see.”
Every nerve in my body screamed at me to stop, to protest—but my fingers twitched downward. My pulse skittered.
“I can’t?—”
“You can.” Leighton’s interruption was gentle, but there was no mistaking the iron beneath it. His hand lingered near mine, not touching, only guiding. “You’ve been so brave already, Lisa. Let this be no different.”
Magnus leaned closer, his breath brushing my ear. “Or do you need me to order you again, little filly?”
The wordordercurled around my chest, tugging something taut inside me. I swallowed hard, then gathered my skirts in trembling fingers, inching them higher.
Leighton’s smile widened, coaxing. “Good girl. Just like that. Keep going.”
Heat flooded my cheeks, my ears, my very core. Their eyes—both of them—burned on me as though they could already see beneath the fabric. I wanted to snap, to tease, to protest, but thewords tangled on the tip of my tongue. Instead, I obeyed, inch by inch, until cool air brushed against my thighs.
“Stop there.” Magnus’s command cracked the air, sharp and final.
My breath hitched. My skirts were bunched just above my knees. My pulse was wild, frantic.
Leighton leaned in closer, voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “See? Not so terrifying, is it? You’ve already begun.”
I squeezed my thighs together, nerves a livewire. “And what… what happens next?”
Magnus’s low chuckle rumbled through the room. “Next, love, you learn how to please Daddy.”
The wordDaddylodged in my throat like a forbidden prayer, burning with both shame and want.
Chapter Eleven
Magnus’s command still echoed in the room, dark and undeniable. My breath caught in my throat. I shouldn’t have liked it—not the word, not the authority in his tone, not the way my body trembled in anticipation instead of fear.
“Lisa.” Leighton’s voice cut through the haze. Gentle, coaxing, but no less insistent. “Slip one hand beneath your skirts. Not fast. Slowly.”
