“I missed you,” he murmured into her hair, before drawing a deep pull of her scent.
Silla was silent, and it pained Rey that for all this time she’d thought he’d broken his promise to write. He opened his mouth to beg for forgiveness, but she beat him to it.
“Howmuchdid you miss me?”
Rey drew back at the mischievous note in her voice. Then his blood heated with desire.
“I’ll show you,” he muttered, glancing around. Rey hefted Silla into his arms, chicks tottering away as she squealed in surprise and he strode through the chicken house. Spotting a small door exiting the main part of the barn, Rey kicked it open to reveal a small room. Against one wall was a desk of sorts, scattered with papers, while ledgers and tomes were stacked on a shelf opposite. Rey sent the records scattering from the desk with a sweep of his hand, and after laying Silla down on the surface, he yanked the door roughly shut behind them.
“Rey!” protested Silla.
But as he turned toward her, he let his mask of control slip for a moment, showing her the full breadth of his hunger. “Yes?”
She propped herself up on her elbows, pupils spreading wide with need. But the mischievous quirk of her lips told Rey she had something up her sleeve. “Clean that up,” said Silla, in a voice of soft command.
It was a test, and he knew it, but Rey needed to atone—needed to prove his devotion to her. Besides, he was so gone for this woman, he’d probably light himself on fire if she asked it.
Slowly Rey dropped to his knees before her, then gathered the strewn papers without taking his eyes from hers. “What else?”
Silla licked her lips, and Rey’s whole body throbbed. “Take off my boots.”
It was pure torture to gently loosen the ties on her deerskin boots when every muscle in him yearned to rip them off. He cuppedher calf as he slipped the second boot free, fingers reaching for her stockings.
Silla tutted. “I recall no mention of my stockings.”
Already, Rey was hard as granite, but the lilt of her voice had him growing somehow harder. He forced his fingers to still, gazing up at her over layers of silken skirts.
“You know I’d not kneel for anyone but you,” he said, in a hoarse voice.
Her lips tilted up as a stockinged foot landed on his shoulder and pushed him gently backward. “Undress for me,” commanded Silla, shimmying up to a sitting position on the edge of the desk so she could watch. Her dark eyes were glazed as her teeth sank into her lower lip.
Rey’s control was held by the very finest thread, but he pushed to his full height and reached for his belt. The buckle clanked loudly inside the small space. Silla’s pulse fluttered madly at the base of her throat, her gaze roaming all over his body. He shucked his lébrynja jacket as slowly as he could, giving the maddening woman a taste of her own medicine.
“Hurry up,” she muttered, leaping off the desk and striding to him. Her fingers slid beneath his breeches, and Rey couldn’t help the tremor that ran through him. But she only reached for the hem of his tunic to yank it upward. She was too short to get it over his arms, and Rey let her struggle for a moment before finishing the task.
Silla’s fingers traced the tattooed dragon wing along his collarbone before she jerked back. And as she returned to her perch on the edge of the desk, Rey knew he’d scored a point in whatever game this was.
He toed off his boots and stockings, then slid down his breeches. And as they hit the floor, he could tell Silla was nearing her own breaking point. The proof of his desire jutted evidently from his body, and he stood before her, letting her look her fill.
“What else do you command of me?” he asked.
“Stockings—” she choked out, lifting one foot.
Once more, Rey dropped to his knees before her, taking her calf reverently into his palm. A shudder ran through her as his fingers teased the edge of the stocking. But the moment his fingers touched her soft skin, Rey’s careful control snapped clean through.
“Fuck it,” he muttered, wrenching her legs apart and rucking up her skirts.
“Rey!” she exclaimed, falling backward.
He buried his nose at the apex of her thighs, nuzzling her inner leg until she cried out. Rey drew back and looked up from where he knelt between her legs. “Let’s get this clear, Sunshine. You might one day rule this kingdom, but I willalwaysbe in charge in the bedroom.”
“We’re in a barn—”
He slid his tongue through her center, and Silla’s words broke off in a breathy moan.
“Y-yes,” she pleaded.
“Who is in charge?” he demanded.
