The next man to taste me was a young boy, barely out of his teens. His touch was gentle, tongue barely licking. He was my favourite from the table.
After another two licks, I hoped I deserved the next scrap of parchment, but no one gave it to me. My heart sank as I completed a full rotation, squeezing my eyes as each tongue inched closer to the places I wished were covered.
I couldn’t stop shivering when I placed the empty platter on the sideboard. Resting my palms on the hard surface, I breathed deep. Tears pressed on the back of my eyes, disgust rolled in my stomach growling with desperate hunger. This was torture on so many levels. Delivering food to well-fed men all the while they feasted on me, too.
“The main course, if you will, Nila,” Mr. Hawk muttered.
I looked over my shoulder. He sat there, running his fingers through his goatee. His golden eyes, so like Jethro’s, held no patience or tolerance but his lips tilted in mirth. He was enjoying this.
Of course he was. They all were.
Including my main tormentor.
Pushing off from the sideboard, I collected a large silver tray of chicken and asparagus. Keeping my eyes down, I deliberately kept the tray high and outstretched, giving me a shield in which to pass Jethro.
Not that it helped.
His arm shot out, stopping me. I cursed the familiarity of his touch. Screamed at the horrible way my body remembered the pleasure he’d granted by the stables. I wanted nothing from him. Especially the memory of his fingers.
I glared into his eyes. Stay silent.
It was hard.
I had so much I wanted to say. So much to yell. The side of my head still throbbed from his strike; my ego still hurt from not knowing how to jerk him off the way he desired. He made me feel like a rejected little girl.
Bowing close, he whispered in my ear, “I’m enjoying watching you be so obedient, Ms. Weaver. And your silence…” He brushed my hair away from my cheek, fingertips lingering on my neck. “…is making me hard.”
I sucked in a gasp, looking to the front of his trousers despite myself. The outline of his massive cock that terrified me—more than his hands, temper, or god-awful silence—stood firm and bulging against his jeans.
He smiled. “Keep up the good work and you might get two rewards this evening.” His eyes darkened. “Because we both know you want me to finish what I started.”
My gasp turned to a growl. I couldn’t fathom how my stomach swooped even while sickness swirled. Damn my traitorous body for finding his evil beauty attractive.
Are you sure you want to seduce him just for protection? I hated the question. I hated that I didn’t have an answer.
Jerking away from his arm, I stalked toward my starting position. Standing beside Mr. Hawk, I served him first. The moment he’d taken a few morsels, I moved to leave, but he pinched my pinafore, keeping me still.
His eyes met mine and I knew, just knew, this serving round wouldn’t be my arms, neck, or hips up for a taste. This would be worse. Much worse.
“Face me, girl,” he ordered.
My teeth chattered, but I slowly did as he requested.
“Lean down.”
Closing my eyes, I obeyed.
His hot breath clouded over my chest before a wet, warm mouth latched onto my nipple. A graze of teeth, a swipe of a tongue—it all drove me to the pinnacle. The pinnacle where I knew I would burn in hell for not only permitting it, but for the tiny flutter of need that had burst into life while his son drove his finger inside me.
My head pounded as I shoved the betrayal away. I was the one who betrayed myself. I was the one not strong enough to fight Jethro. He’d won the moment I saw him and let my need for touch consume me.
Tears tickled my spine and the moment Mr. Hawk pulled way, I ran.
I didn’t get far.
Orange Tattoo, who sat next to Mr. Hawk caught me, holding me tight. “Now, now. You’re doing so well. Don’t ruin it.” His large hand splayed on my shoulder blades, jerking me to his sitting level. With a tight smile, his mouth latched onto my dry nipple.
I whimpered as his large soppy lips sucked. He took his time, swirling his tongue around the hard bud, before letting go in a loud slurp.
I stood shaking as he selected some chicken and sent me on my way.
I can’t do this.
Self-pity filled my empty stomach, and I stood frozen to the thick burgundy carpet.
“Move, Ms. Weaver,” Jethro ordered.
My body swayed to obey but everything inside rebelled. I didn’t care Mr. Hawk had eloquently described my cage with the use of diamonds and debts. I didn’t care that I had no choice but to do as I was told.
I just couldn’t do it.
My eyes flew wide as Jethro’s hands landed on my shoulders. He spun me to face him, breathing hard. “Do. It. Now.” The force of his command buckled my knees. I dropped my head.