“Return for more?” A creamy voice too close to my ear.
This is definitely not the servants’ wing.
“Or did I scare you off?” Abas continues.
I step into his room. He’s sitting at a small writing desk in the corner, a smudge of ink on his left hand.
“What do you want?” I ask.
He raises an eyebrow, stands up, and strides across the room. I try to stand still, to not show that the way he moves is more than intimidating. Instead, I cross my arms over my chest, face as impassive as I can muster. He stops right in front of me, almost close enough to touch.
“I only wish to take care of my staff.” His mouth quirks up.
I can’t help but scoff.
“I recollect you making certain demands of me.” His smirk turns into a grin. Like a cat. “About cleanliness and basic hygiene.”
“I should go,” I say.
This situation is absolutely ridiculous. But he’s watching me intently, a wicked gleam in his eyes.
“Yet, here you still are…waiting for my next command.” He practically purrs these last words.
I want to laugh, roll my eyes, leave the room. His eyes wander up and down my body, catching at my groin. My mouth.
An involuntary swallow. What is the matter with me?
“Remove your trousers.” His voice caresses my face.
I can’t believe I’m considering doing as he says. But before I can talk myself out of it, I follow my impulse. Clumsy fingers unbutton the fly. The trousers drop with a quiet gasp.
“I want you to lean over there,” he says pointing to the armchair.
I look at him questioningly. He nods in its direction, and hesitating only a moment, I place my elbows on the back of the chair. The moment my skin scrapes across the worn velvet, my ears hum with a new sensation.
“No. Lower,” he commands.
I comply silently, bending all the way down to the arm, my ass fully exposed now. I feel his shoe tapping my ankles. Understanding the gesture, I spread my legs wider. If he bent down now, he would see all of me, everything bared for him to take.
I wait with pebbles in my throat for what feels like an eternity until he’s back to looming over me. His cold breath hits my lower back, and I feel it slipping up toward my nape. He’s breathing, rough and shallow, but he doesn’t move. A faint scent of spices drifts toward me, mixing with the smell of burning wood. My cock aches unbearably in anticipation.
He pulls away, cold replacing the space he had filled. I hear scraping, like rock on rock. Then he thankfully returns.
Warm liquid drips between my cheeks, and I wonder if, by some miracle, this forsaken castle is stocked with lube. I don’t remember the last time I’ve been fucked, but the thought of it makes me shudder in anticipation.
But the thing that nudges my entrance isn’t a cock. It’s something smooth and hard. Cold and unyielding. I can’t deny my disappointment, but my need to be filled is so strong that I would take anything at this point. I take a breath, relaxing my body, but Abas doesn’t continue. The thing is circling my hole in smooth motions, teasing me without entering at all. I arch my back, holding my ass out to Abas like a present.
“Aren’t you needy?” he says, leaning closer to me as he speaks.
“Please,” I gasp.
“Pleasewhat?” he teases.
“Fuck me. Please, fuck me,” I press out.
“So greedy, Mister Bloom. Already wanting it all,” he whispers into my ear, that thing still circling my hole.
“Astaire,” my name escapes me. I always hated being called by my surname.
