And between how she worked him with her throat and the long-desired sight of her sucking him off, he came quicker than anyone older than fourteen ever should, his head thrown back and his vision gone white.
When he came to, her head was in his lap, and she was stroking his cock, petting it like it was a kitten. Or a pussy. Petting a pussy sounded like a good idea. He made to pull her up. “My turn.”
“No.” She was adamant, pushing him back when he would have risen from the chair. “Nothing else tonight. You heal.”
“I’d rather bury my face in your pussy and see how many times you come in an hour.”
Instead of crawling on the bed and opening her legs, she bust out laughing. “You have a broken nose. Do that and you’ll suffocate.”
“Worthwhile way to go.”
“You’re cute when you’re trying to be naughty.” She got up and kissed him on the top of his head, and it warmed him in a way not even the feel of her lips on his cock had done, the warmth more valuable than any sexual heat ever could be to him. “I’ll make dinner and we’ll turn in early. Tomorrow will be interesting, and I want us both ready.”
“Nalah.” She paused from getting out a pan and looked at him, her eyebrows raised in question. “From here on out, if I tell you to run…run.”
She blinked once, twice, long slow blinks under furrowed brows, and he was grateful she was taking it seriously. In the end, she said, “If I did that, I wouldn’t be me, would I? Besides, where could I go? It’s together or not at all.”
And even with the fear that churned his gut at the thoughts of what could go wrong, that didn’t sound too bad at all.
Chapter Fourteen
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Esh was gorgeous in the basic white tailored shirt and black pants combo, and the complete boredom on his face as he talked with the various guests made him better looking, not less. The women certainly thought so. Or maybe they just took it as a challenge. Either way, Esh was surrounded.
Not that Nalah didn’t have her own gaggle going on here. Tiffany grabbed her and dragged her from group to group without letting her do more than sip from her drink between sessions. If Nalah could have gotten away with it, she’d give them all an Esh-level scowl and huff off. All the women talked about were clothes and make-up and hair. Gods knew at this point she’d take Laire over any of them. Sure, Laire usually talked about clothes and make-up and hair as well, but at least she threw in the occasional story about blowing something up.
Fifteen minutes later, Esh was still surrounded but she saw a chance for escape and took it. Free of the women, she breathed deep and gave another look around. The Pale Lady wasn’t here, but Nalah would place money every other guest was.
Tiffany was wearing the ring, and every sighting of it poked at Nalah, mocked her because she had no idea what to do, other than smack Fallon the next time they were together for not sending a better thief. There had to be a back-up plan. Esh’s disdain and her own frustrated grumbling aside, the Guild always had a contingency strategy in place. All she could do was keep her eyes open and be ready for when it appeared.
Well, that, and hope it was sooner rather than later. Not only were they now dealing with Esh being in Beylor’s crosshair and a psychotic guard obsessed with both of them, but the dark magic around here was battering the hell out of her magical shields. She hadn’t felt this exposed since those first days of training, but now was worse. Now, she knew what it looked like when someone’s mind was torn apart because their shields fell. That her shields were crumbling and she couldn’t quite keep them shored up was a terror she had to keep to herself, because Esh would make them leave.
It wasn’t because of the ring that she was determined to stay, either. She wasn’t so naïve that Esh could hold the truth from her. Once Beylor made that offer, Esh was either leaving here as one of Beylor’s men, or he wasn’t leaving, unless the Guild stepped in. If he tried to get her away now, Beylor would take that as open season.
She wasn’t going to risk him like that. She’d deal with the shields, keep them up somehow, but she wasn’t going to give him yet another reason to make himself a target.
A new woman approached her, a clone of Tiffany except her hair was dark and wavy and her eyes such an electric green they had to be fake. Unlike Tiffany, there was nothing of genuine feeling in her smile, and when she spoke, her voice was malicious regard. “You’re Nalah? I had to come over and meet you. I never thought the Cage King would get a woman. I know women who’ve been trying for years and there’s never been the suggestion of anything outside of him bedding them for a night.”