Page 18 of A Taste for the Peculiar

Avirin’s teeth dig into her lip when she nods.

His eyes flash with pride. “As my lady wills it.” Then Lord Riften opens their mouth, sinking down until Samuel’s cock disappears inside.

It happens so swiftly that it seems impossible. Samuel cries out, his hard length leaving an indentation in Lord Riften’s throat, but Lord Riften does not gag. They bob their head slowly, filling the box with wet, hollow sounds that make Avirin grip the chair between her legs. She’s desperate to move her hips, but Lord Riften shakes their head while they swallow around Samuel’s cock.

With a pitiful sound, she withdraws her hand. Samuel groans and bucks his hips, and when the orchestra crescendos, Lord Riften pulls back with a pop.

“Poor, precious boy.” His fist returns to Samuel’s tip, stroking the short span over and over until Samuel twitches. “I bet you’d like to come in the back of my throat, wouldn’t you? But that can’t happen yet.”

Samuel and Avirin both whine, but Lord Riften keeps pumping their fist and tilts their head toward Avirin.

“Give her your mouth, Samuel. Let her feed from you.”

Samuel does so without question, inclining his head like he’s desperate to obey. Avirin is no better, digging her fingers into his shirt when she crowds the arm of the chair between them. Her mouth drags sloppily against his. His lips are plush and soft, and she tries not to grind her hips at how willingly his mouth opens for her.

With every stroke of Lord Riften’s hand, Avirin swallows another of Samuel’s sounds and licks at the blue smoke curling from his lips. His energy drizzles into her mouth, and she moans and shudders while she clutches him closer.

Then Samuel’s breath hitches, spiraling into a groan as he spills from both ends. His energy floods Avirin’s mouth the same time Lord Riften swallows around him. Samuel shudders and gasps, fingers curling into Avirin’s hair to keep her close when he crests the peak.

Slowly, the orchestral music fades. Samuel and Avirin try to steady their breathing, but Lord Riften keeps working over Samuel’s cock until there’s not a drop left in him. With a final swipe of his tongue, Lord Riften tucks Samuel back into his trousers and gingerly kneads the man’s thighs with their hands.

A hint of guilt worms into Avirin’s mind. She can hardly believe she’s done this. She watched Lord Riften suck another man’s cock, a man whom she kissed while he came apart in the opera balcony…and she enjoyed it.

She plucks the string of shame inside her, but any sound it makes is drowned out by the symphony of excitement still buzzing through her mind.

Samuel looks positively dazed. His head lolls against Avirin’s shoulder, and she finds herself toying with the soft tendrils of blond against his forehead.

“If I may be so bold…” Samuel drawls.

Avirin giggles. Was what the three of them partook in not bold enough?

Samuel grins lazily. “Please invite Lady Avirin to more of these events. She adds a certain…something to your performance, Sir.”

Avirin’s stomach clenches. With Samuel lush and drained between them, it almost seems like Avirin and Lord Riften consorted to take this man apart. That thought galvanizes her, filling her mind with visions of Lord Riften as her accomplice, the two of them sneaking away from every party and laughing together in shadow.

Lord Riften’s eyes flash, like they’re enjoying the same thought. “We do make a good team. Wouldn’t you agree, Lady Avirin?”

NINE

Pye

Spending time with Avirin is delightful and dangerous and damning.

Not so damning for Pye; his reputation was sullied long ago, if he cared about such things. Being seen with a woman as accomplished as Avirin would only bolster his position. Their time together is a risk to Avirin alone.

And yet, even knowing that, Pye cannot find it in themself to stop.

Each step he takes toward the Pleasure Gardens echoes with another excuse. I am doing as she asked. I am teaching her things she could never learn otherwise. I am showing her a world she might never witness.

A more cynical thought cuts through.

Are you truly such a fool, or just a liar?

Pye adjusts their dark harlequin mask and smooths their hands over their matching attire. It’s a simpler garment than they would normally choose, but it might help Avirin feel less out of place. Despite his forewarning about the masquerade, Pye suspects she’ll arrive in something straightforward and practical, given the dresses she’s worn to previous events. Tonight, though, sticking to convention will draw its own attention.

Masked party-goers descend the grand outdoor staircase. Pye is passed by horned priests groping winged angels, an entire drunken Viking horde stumbling into each other, and a female Punch chasing after her male wife, Judy.

Pye leans against the railing to pull out his clay pipe. As always, the restrictions high society loves to enforce suddenly disappear when they desire a night of frivolity. They enjoy these “sins” only when it suits them. It is why Pye so rarely attends these outings. Why he still hasn’t found his footing among the upper echelon. Why he never intends to do so. It won’t matter for much longer; by the time Lord Kyrven’s affairs are finally set to rights, Pye doubts he will have any money or title left. He will lose everything he has tried to build.