“Tomorrow ... every time you ask, it will be tomorrow.”
She leans up, pushing me back down as she straddles my hips. “But we don't know what tomorrow will bring, how can tomorrow cause you such concern?” She leans down lightly grazing my chest with soft kisses as she does.
“Because you know, as well as I do, that one day he's going to force me to go.” A moan escapes from my lips as she kisses the soft spot under my ear, her hips slowly grinding against me. It's hard to focus when she does that.
“Yes. But that moment is not right now. ”
Her hand slides down my stomach, my skin pebbles as she reaches that ticklish spot right below my navel. Her hand slinks lower as her hips gyrate. The covers slide down around her waist and I grab her there. Without clothes from the first part of our night, she easily finds, and grabs me tightly. She teases herself with the head on her slit. No, she's teasing me. She smiles down at me as she wiggles, getting her point across.
I grab her hips roughly, flipping her over so she is positioned on her arms and legs. Moving myself behind her, I can feel the heat from her core as she giggles. I drag my hand down her spine and she shivers beneath my touch. These moments are the ones I know we are taking for granted, hoping they will never end. Her neck is begging to be held as she lifts and arcs her head up further. I indulge her, grabbing her neck as she laughs again.
“Always playing games, Anara.”
She smiles. She likes her games, at least with me she does. She likes to see the power she has over me and I enjoy seeing the power I have over her. Our moments are always a clash of power – fast and raw and always mutually satisfying.
Finally, I thrust myself into her as my grip on her neck tightens, and a moan escapes her lips. Ever so slowly, I slide into her, pulling all the way back. If she wants to play this game, I'll play. She only lasts through four more gyrationsbefore she pushes her ass against me, turns over, and pouts. I lean down resting the weight on my forearms and kiss her neck and find her again. She buries her face in my neck, trying to hide the screams that are unmistakable pleasure, but she doesn't stop from dragging her nails down my back. I may have a lot of scars, but the ones she leaves are my favorite.
Her breath picks up and I run my hands along her waist, as she lets go of my back and grasps at my hair, locking her legs behind me. She's asserting her control from the bottom, and I would gladly give her anything. Power, protection, freedom ... She could have my soul and I would do whatever she asked.
Our sweat mixes together and the bed makes a steady thump against the stone wall as we find our release together.
“I love you,” I tell her, looking down at the eyes I want to get lost in, as we convey the silent promise we make as the moon watches somewhere overhead. I can't imagine not being with her, not having her in my arms and then the thought strikes me. “What if we run?”
She laughs and I roll off her as she wraps herself back around me, her leg over mine and her head on my chest. “And where would we go? I could disappear, but you ... you are a prince. The only Shastonian Prince, might I add.”
“And I've told you before, I will help you leave at any moment, all you have to do is ask.”
Her hand softly touches my chest and I grab it kissing her soft fingertips.
“I don't want to leave Ereon. I have nowhere to go. I can't make it through Shaston and the mountains by myself, I can't make it back to San'doma. Not without ...” She stops, pulling her hand from mine and turning it like she holds something in it before putting it back on my chest. “I can't.”
“Well isn't this a lovely sight,” calls a voice from the darkness.
Jumping for the swords I keep next to my bed, she grabs for the covers pulling them over her body. A man, still cloaked in darkness, emerges from what we call “the whore road” – tunnels inside the palace for the servants and my father's secrets to travel. They aren't worthy to walk through the palace halls, but worthy enough to home his dick in.
“I really wanted to think better of you, Son,” my father’s deep voice booms through the room. I stand in nothing but my skin as he makes his way toward us, his eyes flickering between Anara and me. “When the guards told me she was the only one coming to your room … I thought maybe it was because you had her trained. Imagine my horror when I found out it was because you are in love with her.”
Calming my features, I stand up taller but put down my blades. “The things we tell our whores to make the fucking better is all ... don't tell me you've never said things to get your way.” I find my pants and slip them on quickly. Anara hasn't moved, her hands fisted in the silk sheets that drape across the bed, but her head hangs low and I can see tears already starting to spill. How quickly our daydream has changed to a nightmare.
“Oh, Ereon” – he sits down in a chair beside the bed, the side closest to Anara, crossing his legs – “I've said many things to many people … but never have I let those three words be said to a whore.” He twirls something in his hand, and my body starts to sweat. It's a whip, the black leather glaring in the low light of the flickering flame. “I gave her to you as a present. To use, to own, but never to love. You'll have a wife soon or have you forgotten?”
I don't know how long he's been there, lurking in the shadows. The doors are made for silence, for easy access or disposal, should that be the case. But I can't do anything but let him think I'm exactly what he wants me to be.
“I know well the duties I have with the Antalian Princess.” Stepping toward him in an attempt to keep him separated from Anara, but he just raises his hand.
“Tsk … tsk.” He stands, his steps quick as he crosses to the bed and grabs Anara by the hair, pulling her to the cold, stone floor. She lies there, her body exposed, but her eyes ... her eyes will never cower. She's already stopped the tears. Her face shows pure hate across her features. “What a predicament you have put me in. I heard the soft whispers of treason, of running away. For her to commit such a crime, well ...” He pulls her hair and she screams from the pain. “She could be given to the Prel, to let them do with her what they please.”
It's a fate worse than death, I've seen what the men do to the women who are “given” to them. The women never come back alive.
“Or better yet ...” He throws her down, her chin hitting the sandstone floors. Blood drips from her chin as she pulls herself up as best she can before he stomps on her hand. “Stay put.” He throws the whip and it lands right in front of me. “Give her ten lashes and we will call it even, and then I'll find you a new one tomorrow.”
I've whipped many men, even women, due to my father's commands. But I can't. I won't. She nods at me, giving me the okay. Even now, she would sacrifice herself, allowing me to be the one who causes her pain. She would take those lashes, but it would never be enough for him. What would he do to her if he found me a replacement? Use her himself?
“No.”
He drawls, “Okay then.”
Taking his boot off her hand, he walks to the whip and picks it up. He tosses it in the air and then he strikes. It hits me across the face, a gash forming immediately as my head turns to the side, fast enough to cause my neck to pop.
