clean, which was unusual in a dive like this. Her gaze landed on the brand marking the young woman’s wrist and the pieces fell into place. It was the shape of a quarter-moon—the girl was an indentured servant. She could work off her five years here, or be bought by a willing party and work off the time with another. Once her debt was paid, that quarter moon would be filled in and people would know she was no longer obligated by some law or another to work off whatever sentence had been placed on her slim shoulders.
So young, Tyriel thought. So, so young.
Had the mark been an ‘X,’ it would have meant she was a slave and she’d never know freedom, not unless something extraordinary happened.
An ‘X’ encircled meant a body slave, basically a body whored out at her master’s pleasure, with no choice in his or her bed partners, or any say in where he or she bedded that partner. Tyriel had seen body slaves who knelt in alleyways in broad daylight to service or be mounted.
Judging by the look in her eyes, this girl likely sought a new keeper.
Tyriel recognized the satisfaction in the serving girl’s eyes as she strolled away, hips swaying subtly beneath the plain blue wool of her skirt.
Ah, well, Tyriel thought, too bad.
Damn it all.
* * * * *
Aryn the swordsman at least had the decency to take his tumble upstairs. The girl was clean and soft and sweet-smelling—looking for a way to a better life.
Aryn couldn’t, and wasn’t interested in, offering that, but a soft female beside him for the night wasn’t a bad thing. He’d leave some extra money with her so she could stash it. Most indentured servants skimmed a little money here and there, hoping to earn enough to buy their freedom a year or two sooner.
Barely clearing the door, he turned and grabbed her, pinning her against the wall and lifting her skirt to close his hands over naked hips.
“Why, you naughty thing, no undergarments.” He shifted his hands to her butt as he nibbled his way down her neck.
She hadn’t accepted another man’s favor all night, or the past three, waiting for this one. He was clean, he was handsome, and he had kind eyes. Since she did have some say in whom she spread her thighs for, she had waited and watched him.
With a smile, she pulled her linen shift up and over her head, freeing the large breasts that had teased and taunted Aryn half the night. “Not a thing, sirrah,” she replied. “I was hopin’ you’d like some company after all. And I wanted nothin’ in y’way.”
It had been nearly four months since Aryn had been around a woman clean enough that he didn’t fear some scourging dick rot if he bedded her.
His need for a woman was powerful. Without another thought in his mind, he freed his cock, then lifted her and drove into her, the soft, silky fist of her sex closing tightly over him.
“Sweet little thing.”
She gasped at the penetration, wet and soft, an eager moan falling from her lips as he lowered his head to catch a nipple between his teeth. He surged inside her, gripping the full, round curve of her ass.
Aryn held back until he felt the orgasm rippling through her, and then he rammed into her repeatedly, until his own climax broke free.
He then took her to the bed and guided her head down until she could wrap her pretty mouth around his cock, groaning with delight as she set to the task with obvious, unfaked pleasure. Her round, firm ass stayed high in the air as she worked him. Aryn cupped one soft white globe, massaging the flesh while his other hand wrapped in her loose hair. Occasionally, because that pretty butt just seemed to want it, he would give it a sharp little smack with the flat of his hand.
Her soft curls tossed over her shoulder, she stared at him through her lashes. Pulling away to swab the head of his penis with her tongue, she paused momentarily to grin at him. Going back to her task, she moved down to suckle and nibble on his sac before taking him into her mouth again. Moving slowly down the thick, rounded head, she took as much of him into her mouth as she could, falling into a slow steady rhythm that soon had Aryn lifting his hips to her caress and moaning.
The ruddy flesh of his