The Promised Queen (Forgotten Empires #3)- Jeffe Kennedy Page 0,48

I shuddered, rubbing against him, my one bare breast tweaking against the leather vest.

“I don’t know…”

“You don’t know if you trust me?” But he was teasing, not annoyed. He dropped his other hand to my hip, easily finding a slit in the flowing silk panels, sliding his rough fingers up my inner thigh, then cupping my sex in his hand. “Oh, Lia,” he breathed, dropping his forehead to mine as I shuddered under his touch. “You’re drenched. You want this badly.”

“Yes,” I confessed. “And I do trust you.”

“I hear a but in there.”

“I have to go meet Dearsley, remember? Ejarat take Me, I’m probably late.”

He laughed, a rough rumble that made me arch against him in frank longing. “You are the queen. We’ll send a message that you are indisposed and will meet him early in the morning before we go.”

“We will?” I’d gone for arch, but he slipped a blunt finger inside my lingerie at that moment, pushing inside me, so I nearly climbed his body, my voice coming out breathless.

“Yes.” He withdrew his finger, and I nearly cried for its loss. “I’ll decide for you. I’ll send the message and you won’t have a choice. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

I gazed at him, unbearably aroused but terribly uncertain. “But what about the damage reports?”

“They’ll be there in the morning,” he replied with a grimness I understood. “One hour’s delay tomorrow won’t change anything. For tonight, you wanted to taste the pleasures of Calanthe. I do, too. We deserve this. What’s the point of surviving if we don’t enjoy life? Let me give you this. Say yes.”

“I think it would be strange, with Ibolya and maybe Sondra hovering outside the door. Or Ambrose flying in through closed windows.”

Con chuckled. “You remember that, huh? But I agree. That’s why we’ll do it here.”

“In the Night Court?” People might afford me the courtesy of the appearance of anonymity, but the orchid bound to me would always reveal my identity. I didn’t think I could allow that kind of intimate exposure.

“That’s what it’s here for, right? We’ll use the privacy thing.”

Hmm. He had a point. Did I dare? Perhaps I would. I’d died without tasting this particular fantasy, and I might not survive the next day.

“All right.”

He let out a long breath, turning his head to press a kiss to the exposed skin of my inner elbow, where he pinned it against the tree. That, too, arced through me. Heat and lightning. “Pick a password.” Now that I’d agreed, he began tracing lazy circles on my inner thigh again, tantalizing, teasing.

“I don’t want to register—”

He bit my earlobe, more sharply, making me squeal. “Only you and I will know it.”

Oh, I liked that idea. But what? I wanted something I associated with Con, but that I wouldn’t normally say to him. And nothing alarming, in case I needed to give warning. Con was nibbling along my throat, making it difficult to think, the sweet rush of heat winding with the scent of night-blooming flowers. “Jasmine,” I breathed.

“Got it.” He released my hand, and lifted my dress to cover my breast again. “If I hear that, we stop immediately. From now on, though, you don’t speak unless I ask you a direct question, and you do everything I say.”

Taken aback, my heart hammering, I nodded, the sensation of giving over control as exciting as it was liberating.

“I love you, Lia,” he said, taking my chin in his hand and holding it firmly while he kissed me breathless. He tucked my good hand in the crook of his arm. “Come with me.”

Parting the weeping branches of the tree, he led me back out to the path and glanced around. I watched with some amusement as he tried to divine how to summon someone, then had to suppress a giggle when he raised a hand and snapped his fingers as he’d seen Percy do. It worked, and a young woman who worked the Night Court appeared immediately. She knelt, pressing her forehead to his boots.

“I am Hyacinth. How may I serve You, Conrí?” she asked.

It disconcerted Con—both that she knew him and her kneeling, I thought—but he recovered quickly, telling her to stand. “I need to send a message to Lord Dearsley, and I’ll need a private alcove.”

“Of course, Conrí.” Hyacinth carefully averted her gaze from me, a discretion I appreciated. A good reminder of why I tolerated Delilah’s cheek: She did know her business. I was also impressed by how quickly and well