David woke up before Elana, per usual. He pulled free of her arms, kissed her forehead, and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for her to wake.
This didn’t read right, although it felt right. He’d heard of this happening to other soldiers, prisoners of war. A lack of cruelty was not kindness.
Yet he stared at his bandaged hands. She had treated them, then “punished” him. He hated it. Oh, he hated every second of it. But it was not cruelty, not true cruelty. She knew when to stop. Yesterday seemed to be the exception to the rule. It was reasonable. He didn’t have a family to protect. If he did, he would do so like a rabid dog.
She had mentioned something, that if he ever threatened her she’d have her dunce of a guard come and chuck him back into Dalle. Dalle wasn’t hard to get out of, but his time inside still gave him nightmares. He could act like a brick wall. But it was only that: an act.
Maybe if he played his cards right, he could get out of the gods-forsaken chain wrapped around his ankle. The fur inside kept the silver thing from chafing him, but the jangling was annoying. He couldn’t move without the thing ringing across the wood floor.
On the bright side, he had new pants. Black things, ones that he’d never be able to afford. They fit him well. He had been slammed into a wall, though, by Elana’s guard as they took off his chain. His old pants were ripped off and he was stuffed into new ones as the guard’s forearm pinned his shoulders to the wall. An official clicked the chain back on, and that was that. At least Elana had been standing by the bed, arguing with the both of them about being brutish. Her guard thought David had done something to her. She was furious, and there was something amusing about the entire thing. If anything, it was the other way around. But she had checked first. He’d agreed.
So was that legitimate kindness?
He hugged one knee to his chest and pressed his mouth to it.
He couldn’t escape. He’d tried picking the cuff, he’d tried breaking the bedpost. No luck. Given the last time they let him out of his chain, they were still wary of him. Puppy-eyes weren’t going to work either… at least, on the guards.
He turned toward Elana.
The guards listened to her.
He closed his eyes, humming to himself as he tapped a beat on the leg he had against his chest.
“What is that?”
David turned. Elana’s sky eyes were open. “Oh! Sorry, Princess, didn’t mean to wake you.”
Her eyes slid shut again. “Princess, huh?”
He blinked. “Did… I say something wrong?”
“So I’m not a royal bitch?”
He flushed and messed up his tangled blonde hair even more. “T-That was a while ago, I—”
“It’s okay.” Elana slithered toward him. He could never tell with her, and this was one of those moments. He grabbed the hand on his shoulder, then jumped as she poked his navel. “Boo.”
Not much of a surprise, but he pressed his ear to her head. “Boo.”
She kneaded a hand into his shoulder, working it down his spine. David groaned and adjusted himself. She had missed a couple of spots.
Escape wasn’t possible. He was constantly exhausted.
Besides, Elana was here.
Elana stood, moving toward her closet and changing in front of him once more. This time he didn’t bother to try and hide what she did to him. She knew.
She smiled at him and left, off princessing. He missed doing his own job, helping direct troops from the castle. Samuel had been in charge of vetting people before they got into the army, and Relo kept track of people coming in and out of the castle. David understood if Samuel had made a mistake; he had to take care of dozens of defectors a day. But how had someone gotten into the castle, dragged him out in the middle of the night, and brought him to the capital of Astal?
His food came and went.
David dropped to the ground by his bedpost, drawing troop movements on an imaginary map. Samuel was still expanding the borders. They had to be halfway to the capital city by now. The king was out of the picture. The general had no idea what she was doing. He was helping the princess feed controlled bullshit to the queen. With any luck, they could get Elana on the throne.
He drew a ring in the damaged hardwood floor, pushing it outwards, circling villages en route to the capital.
They could do it. They were so close.
The door creaked. David buffed out the plan he had scrawled in the dust and slid on top of it, hugging his knees and feigning sleep.
“So you’re the infamous David of Cerces.”
Not Elana. Definitely not Elana. He looked up to find a woman with long blonde hair a few shades lighter than his. Her chest was half the size of Elana’s. The woman frowned, drawing him up by his underarms until his feet nearly left the floor. When she released him he stood just under her eye level. A conundrum. He towered most women he met.
“How is she doing it?” The woman stepped back, examining David’s form. “You’re not even injured!” She pointed at David’s bandaged palms. “How did that happen?”
David gestured at the bedpost. The imprint of his silver chain on the wood was clear, as well as how it cut into the metal rod.
“Self-inflicted,” she muttered, “is that it?”
David shook his head.
“Speak, boy.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
She slapped him. “What does she do?”
One of her rings had cut his cheekbone. David straightened, his expression still deadpan. “She tickles me.”
<i>“Tickles,” </i>the woman echoed.
David nodded. Blood leaked down his face.
The woman locked eyes with David for a long moment. His cheek grew red and the wound swelled, but his expression didn’t change.
She spun with a flare of her dress and slammed the door as she left the room.
As soon as she was gone, David dropped against the bed with a hiss, clutching his smarting cheek. He rushed to the water pitcher, dunking the wound. The cold was nice.
Queen Taria had hit him as hard as she could.
David had played himself even stronger than usual so Elana didn’t look ridiculous.
His princess was worth it.
David ducked his head. The pain was subsiding from a sting to an ache. Better, but not great. It would be a massive purple handprint by the time Elana returned. She would argue until he told her who hurt him, or she would arrive knowing Taria had been here, notice the injury, and leave to rip out Taria’s throat. Neither was a good option. It would damage her chances at the throne. Taria could do whatever she wanted with him. He was a prisoner. Elana had likely forgotten that. Anything she did to protect him would shine a light on what they had.
David curled up on the bed with a tug on his chain, cradling his face.
***
He was shaken out of his doze by the door creaking open once more. “David, I have something— gods.” Elana dropped the bag she was carrying, its contents rattling as it hit the ground. The mattress bounced as she crawled to him. She pulled his hand away from his left cheek. “What the hell?”
David shook his head.
“You tell me who did this right now.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head again.
“Is tickling really the only way I can get information out of you?”
His eyes bugged and he scrambled higher on the pile of pillows, kicking some in her face. “No, please, not today.”
“I won’t if you tell me who did this.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Describe them. I don’t care. Tell me.”
David shook his head from his pillow perch, his lips tight.
Gods, how far he had fallen. But he would always have his strength where he needed it to be. He had proven that today.
There was one more test ahead because she couldn’t know.
Elana grabbed the chain around David’s foot and yanked him back down. He yelped, not out of pain but of surprise. The fur inside the manacle kept him safe.
Still, he clawed the pillows, trying to find purchase. So useless. But he ended up with a massive pillow in his grip, and he curled himself around it.
Elana raised her eyebrows but dragged him by the manacle across the silk sheets and bound his left ankle to the bedpost. His right foot came next, big and fourth toes bound to the tie behind it.
“No,” he whined into the pillow as she reached for his arms.
“Fine.” She stood. “No.”
No? Did she listen for once?
Still, she spun around the bed and knelt at his feet.
He wilted. So not no.
He jerked, clenching the pillow when the familiar softness brushed his toes. The feather danced over the top of his foot, making him wiggle his ankle and pull a face. It hurt his bruised cheek.
She was being gentle on purpose.
David winced as the feather danced across his arch, hands tightening on the pillow as he pushed his good cheek into it. It was just incredibly annoying.
<i>“Heh, hehehehe…”</i>
He rocked back and forth on the bed, his grip almost tearing the pillow.
She spread his toes. He froze, ready for the assault, but the soft monster traced down from the pad of his big toe, across the ball of his foot, the instep, and spun on his heel. Its threads stretched into the sweaty spot under his toes, curled over his arches, and some twirled about the top of his feet and the sides of his heel.
There was a click of something hitting the hardwood floor, then the side of a different, harder feather raced between his toes.
<i>“No! Nahahah!”</i>
His breath came hard and sharp. A bark of laughter snapped from his chest. One attack after the other, and it seemed to get worse, moving at random.
And gods, his face ached. He pulled it off the pillow and saw the woman standing in the doorframe.
Shit.
He locked eyes with Elana. “Dammit, I’ll tell you!”
Elana sat back. “That was fast.”
“Agreed.” The woman stepped toward them. David’s hapless laughter had masked the door opening.
David flopped back onto the bed, the pillow falling aside. He kept an eye cracked.
Elana turned to Taria. “Why are you watching me?”
“I couldn’t believe what the boy said. You tickle him and he gives up information?” She glanced at him. “He doesn’t react to pain, not in the slightest. You found this weakness in what, a few hours?”
The queen stepped up to his side, running her fingers across his stomach and letting one slip into his navel. He lunged up, half at her, half to protect his stomach. “No, not there!”
If only he was acting.
Taria laughed wildly. “Dear gods. The same boy from half a day ago.” She turned to Elana. His princess was having a hard time keeping a straight face. “You have his body mapped out?”
Elana nodded.
“Can you keep this up?”
Another terse nod.
“Then do exactly that.” Taria swept away. “Gods, tickling of all things—” She let the door swing shut behind her.
After a long moment, Elana began undoing the ties at David’s ankles. “You knew.”
“The bitch came here earlier today and asked me. I gave her my best brick wall impression.” He hugged his knees to his chest. “She tested it.”
Elana faltered. “You have a brick wall impression… on top of a rabid wolf impression?”
“I like to think that one’s not an impression.” He glowered at her for the first time in what felt like an age. “No, it’s something you pick up when you get thrown in places like the ‘deepest pit of a dungeon you have.’” Dalle had some fancy toys. “The only way you get out of the fun is either to talk, or to act like it’s not working.”
Elana frowned, then turned and climbed onto the bed next to him, wrapping her arms around his bare chest. “You tried that with me that first night. Didn’t quite work.” She scratched under his chest.
He fumbled and pushed her off. “Your nails aren’t exactly a scalding knife.”
Her eyes widened. “When did that happen?”
He pointed at the crooked scar on his left forearm. “A year ago, during my two weeks in Dalle. That’s the deepest pit you have, by the way.”
She touched the old wound. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It was a threat made in the heat of the moment.”
“No, not just that.” She jabbed a finger into his arm, making him wince as her nail left an impression. “This shouldn’t be happening in Astal. Gladiator fights shouldn’t be happening either.” She traced the huge gravel burn scar on his stomach. “What about this one? I didn’t ask.”
“I was eight, maybe nine. A guy twice my size picked me up and tossed me across half the arena. It also threw out my shoulders.” He folded over, revealing better-healed bits of the scar on his upper back.
She slid behind him, her hands slipping off his shoulders to graze his skin.
<i>“NAHAHAH!”</i>
“Oh gods, did that tickle?” She smirked.
All right, fuck this.
He grabbed her wrists and pulled them over her shoulders, twisting so she landed on the bed with him straddling her hips. Elana struggled, pinned under him. Her breath hitched. Maybe she finally realized she was a deer in a wolf’s den. “David, I swear, if you do anything to me I will call Aldien—”
“Call him.” David buried his mouth into her neck, ignoring the pain as his bruised cheek hit her chin.
This time she lurched under him with a moan as he planted kisses down her collarbone. After a moment he straightened, grabbed the nearest tie, and waggled it over her face.
Her eyes burned. “Dammit, rebel.”
He swept up her wrists and bound them like she had done to him the night before. This time, he grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her head, leaving it around her arms. Her chest fell free.
David kept working kisses down her neck before taking a nipple into his mouth and rolling it between his lips. She gasped and met his eyes, hers bleary with pleasure. His princess tasted of sweat, sex, and Elana, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
He moved to the other breast and brought that nipple to life, then as he rubbed them with both hands he stopped at the hem of her pants.
“Keep going,” she gasped.
He freed his hands from her chest to pull her pants away from her thick black bush and dove in.
His tongue found the slit with no issue, and made it past the smaller one to dip into her. He kept lapping, but there was a spot he was supposed to find, like a trigger.
His nose brushed up against something and she jumped.
There it was.
He reached for it, took it into his mouth, and ran his tongue across it before returning to the other gap. Still, he left his nose nudging the spot, letting out a huff of hot air over it every chance he had.
Above him, Elana gasped, twisting, and she let out an odd mixture of a scream and moan. David could taste it, pulling back with Elena on his lips. He wiped his face clean of her fuzz and flinched as he hit the bruise on his face. Still swallowing, he made her look decent again. With a tug on the binds, he undid the rope holding her arms.
She brought them down, rubbing her wrists not from injury but unfamiliarity. “What, you’re not going to tickle me?”
It hadn’t occurred to him. He gaped, then a hand around his wrist flipped him onto the bed with a rattle of the chain on his foot.
She climbed onto his hips. “Where did you learn how to do that?”
He gave her a drunken half-smile, protecting his bruised cheek. “I said Sam was wiser than me.”
“You ass.” She pinched his pelvis half-heartedly, knocked aside his weak swats, then fell upon him with a deep kiss. He moaned in pain as her tongue hit the inside of his cheek. They tipped aside. David let Elana curl her head under his chin. She let him wrap an arm and leg around her.
This didn’t read right, although it felt right. He’d heard of this happening to other soldiers, prisoners of war. A lack of cruelty was not kindness.
Yet he stared at his bandaged hands. She had treated them, then “punished” him. He hated it. Oh, he hated every second of it. But it was not cruelty, not true cruelty. She knew when to stop. Yesterday seemed to be the exception to the rule. It was reasonable. He didn’t have a family to protect. If he did, he would do so like a rabid dog.
She had mentioned something, that if he ever threatened her she’d have her dunce of a guard come and chuck him back into Dalle. Dalle wasn’t hard to get out of, but his time inside still gave him nightmares. He could act like a brick wall. But it was only that: an act.
Maybe if he played his cards right, he could get out of the gods-forsaken chain wrapped around his ankle. The fur inside kept the silver thing from chafing him, but the jangling was annoying. He couldn’t move without the thing ringing across the wood floor.
On the bright side, he had new pants. Black things, ones that he’d never be able to afford. They fit him well. He had been slammed into a wall, though, by Elana’s guard as they took off his chain. His old pants were ripped off and he was stuffed into new ones as the guard’s forearm pinned his shoulders to the wall. An official clicked the chain back on, and that was that. At least Elana had been standing by the bed, arguing with the both of them about being brutish. Her guard thought David had done something to her. She was furious, and there was something amusing about the entire thing. If anything, it was the other way around. But she had checked first. He’d agreed.
So was that legitimate kindness?
He hugged one knee to his chest and pressed his mouth to it.
He couldn’t escape. He’d tried picking the cuff, he’d tried breaking the bedpost. No luck. Given the last time they let him out of his chain, they were still wary of him. Puppy-eyes weren’t going to work either… at least, on the guards.
He turned toward Elana.
The guards listened to her.
He closed his eyes, humming to himself as he tapped a beat on the leg he had against his chest.
“What is that?”
David turned. Elana’s sky eyes were open. “Oh! Sorry, Princess, didn’t mean to wake you.”
Her eyes slid shut again. “Princess, huh?”
He blinked. “Did… I say something wrong?”
“So I’m not a royal bitch?”
He flushed and messed up his tangled blonde hair even more. “T-That was a while ago, I—”
“It’s okay.” Elana slithered toward him. He could never tell with her, and this was one of those moments. He grabbed the hand on his shoulder, then jumped as she poked his navel. “Boo.”
Not much of a surprise, but he pressed his ear to her head. “Boo.”
She kneaded a hand into his shoulder, working it down his spine. David groaned and adjusted himself. She had missed a couple of spots.
Escape wasn’t possible. He was constantly exhausted.
Besides, Elana was here.
Elana stood, moving toward her closet and changing in front of him once more. This time he didn’t bother to try and hide what she did to him. She knew.
She smiled at him and left, off princessing. He missed doing his own job, helping direct troops from the castle. Samuel had been in charge of vetting people before they got into the army, and Relo kept track of people coming in and out of the castle. David understood if Samuel had made a mistake; he had to take care of dozens of defectors a day. But how had someone gotten into the castle, dragged him out in the middle of the night, and brought him to the capital of Astal?
His food came and went.
David dropped to the ground by his bedpost, drawing troop movements on an imaginary map. Samuel was still expanding the borders. They had to be halfway to the capital city by now. The king was out of the picture. The general had no idea what she was doing. He was helping the princess feed controlled bullshit to the queen. With any luck, they could get Elana on the throne.
He drew a ring in the damaged hardwood floor, pushing it outwards, circling villages en route to the capital.
They could do it. They were so close.
The door creaked. David buffed out the plan he had scrawled in the dust and slid on top of it, hugging his knees and feigning sleep.
“So you’re the infamous David of Cerces.”
Not Elana. Definitely not Elana. He looked up to find a woman with long blonde hair a few shades lighter than his. Her chest was half the size of Elana’s. The woman frowned, drawing him up by his underarms until his feet nearly left the floor. When she released him he stood just under her eye level. A conundrum. He towered most women he met.
“How is she doing it?” The woman stepped back, examining David’s form. “You’re not even injured!” She pointed at David’s bandaged palms. “How did that happen?”
David gestured at the bedpost. The imprint of his silver chain on the wood was clear, as well as how it cut into the metal rod.
“Self-inflicted,” she muttered, “is that it?”
David shook his head.
“Speak, boy.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
She slapped him. “What does she do?”
One of her rings had cut his cheekbone. David straightened, his expression still deadpan. “She tickles me.”
<i>“Tickles,” </i>the woman echoed.
David nodded. Blood leaked down his face.
The woman locked eyes with David for a long moment. His cheek grew red and the wound swelled, but his expression didn’t change.
She spun with a flare of her dress and slammed the door as she left the room.
As soon as she was gone, David dropped against the bed with a hiss, clutching his smarting cheek. He rushed to the water pitcher, dunking the wound. The cold was nice.
Queen Taria had hit him as hard as she could.
David had played himself even stronger than usual so Elana didn’t look ridiculous.
His princess was worth it.
David ducked his head. The pain was subsiding from a sting to an ache. Better, but not great. It would be a massive purple handprint by the time Elana returned. She would argue until he told her who hurt him, or she would arrive knowing Taria had been here, notice the injury, and leave to rip out Taria’s throat. Neither was a good option. It would damage her chances at the throne. Taria could do whatever she wanted with him. He was a prisoner. Elana had likely forgotten that. Anything she did to protect him would shine a light on what they had.
David curled up on the bed with a tug on his chain, cradling his face.
***
He was shaken out of his doze by the door creaking open once more. “David, I have something— gods.” Elana dropped the bag she was carrying, its contents rattling as it hit the ground. The mattress bounced as she crawled to him. She pulled his hand away from his left cheek. “What the hell?”
David shook his head.
“You tell me who did this right now.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head again.
“Is tickling really the only way I can get information out of you?”
His eyes bugged and he scrambled higher on the pile of pillows, kicking some in her face. “No, please, not today.”
“I won’t if you tell me who did this.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Describe them. I don’t care. Tell me.”
David shook his head from his pillow perch, his lips tight.
Gods, how far he had fallen. But he would always have his strength where he needed it to be. He had proven that today.
There was one more test ahead because she couldn’t know.
Elana grabbed the chain around David’s foot and yanked him back down. He yelped, not out of pain but of surprise. The fur inside the manacle kept him safe.
Still, he clawed the pillows, trying to find purchase. So useless. But he ended up with a massive pillow in his grip, and he curled himself around it.
Elana raised her eyebrows but dragged him by the manacle across the silk sheets and bound his left ankle to the bedpost. His right foot came next, big and fourth toes bound to the tie behind it.
“No,” he whined into the pillow as she reached for his arms.
“Fine.” She stood. “No.”
No? Did she listen for once?
Still, she spun around the bed and knelt at his feet.
He wilted. So not no.
He jerked, clenching the pillow when the familiar softness brushed his toes. The feather danced over the top of his foot, making him wiggle his ankle and pull a face. It hurt his bruised cheek.
She was being gentle on purpose.
David winced as the feather danced across his arch, hands tightening on the pillow as he pushed his good cheek into it. It was just incredibly annoying.
<i>“Heh, hehehehe…”</i>
He rocked back and forth on the bed, his grip almost tearing the pillow.
She spread his toes. He froze, ready for the assault, but the soft monster traced down from the pad of his big toe, across the ball of his foot, the instep, and spun on his heel. Its threads stretched into the sweaty spot under his toes, curled over his arches, and some twirled about the top of his feet and the sides of his heel.
There was a click of something hitting the hardwood floor, then the side of a different, harder feather raced between his toes.
<i>“No! Nahahah!”</i>
His breath came hard and sharp. A bark of laughter snapped from his chest. One attack after the other, and it seemed to get worse, moving at random.
And gods, his face ached. He pulled it off the pillow and saw the woman standing in the doorframe.
Shit.
He locked eyes with Elana. “Dammit, I’ll tell you!”
Elana sat back. “That was fast.”
“Agreed.” The woman stepped toward them. David’s hapless laughter had masked the door opening.
David flopped back onto the bed, the pillow falling aside. He kept an eye cracked.
Elana turned to Taria. “Why are you watching me?”
“I couldn’t believe what the boy said. You tickle him and he gives up information?” She glanced at him. “He doesn’t react to pain, not in the slightest. You found this weakness in what, a few hours?”
The queen stepped up to his side, running her fingers across his stomach and letting one slip into his navel. He lunged up, half at her, half to protect his stomach. “No, not there!”
If only he was acting.
Taria laughed wildly. “Dear gods. The same boy from half a day ago.” She turned to Elana. His princess was having a hard time keeping a straight face. “You have his body mapped out?”
Elana nodded.
“Can you keep this up?”
Another terse nod.
“Then do exactly that.” Taria swept away. “Gods, tickling of all things—” She let the door swing shut behind her.
After a long moment, Elana began undoing the ties at David’s ankles. “You knew.”
“The bitch came here earlier today and asked me. I gave her my best brick wall impression.” He hugged his knees to his chest. “She tested it.”
Elana faltered. “You have a brick wall impression… on top of a rabid wolf impression?”
“I like to think that one’s not an impression.” He glowered at her for the first time in what felt like an age. “No, it’s something you pick up when you get thrown in places like the ‘deepest pit of a dungeon you have.’” Dalle had some fancy toys. “The only way you get out of the fun is either to talk, or to act like it’s not working.”
Elana frowned, then turned and climbed onto the bed next to him, wrapping her arms around his bare chest. “You tried that with me that first night. Didn’t quite work.” She scratched under his chest.
He fumbled and pushed her off. “Your nails aren’t exactly a scalding knife.”
Her eyes widened. “When did that happen?”
He pointed at the crooked scar on his left forearm. “A year ago, during my two weeks in Dalle. That’s the deepest pit you have, by the way.”
She touched the old wound. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It was a threat made in the heat of the moment.”
“No, not just that.” She jabbed a finger into his arm, making him wince as her nail left an impression. “This shouldn’t be happening in Astal. Gladiator fights shouldn’t be happening either.” She traced the huge gravel burn scar on his stomach. “What about this one? I didn’t ask.”
“I was eight, maybe nine. A guy twice my size picked me up and tossed me across half the arena. It also threw out my shoulders.” He folded over, revealing better-healed bits of the scar on his upper back.
She slid behind him, her hands slipping off his shoulders to graze his skin.
<i>“NAHAHAH!”</i>
“Oh gods, did that tickle?” She smirked.
All right, fuck this.
He grabbed her wrists and pulled them over her shoulders, twisting so she landed on the bed with him straddling her hips. Elana struggled, pinned under him. Her breath hitched. Maybe she finally realized she was a deer in a wolf’s den. “David, I swear, if you do anything to me I will call Aldien—”
“Call him.” David buried his mouth into her neck, ignoring the pain as his bruised cheek hit her chin.
This time she lurched under him with a moan as he planted kisses down her collarbone. After a moment he straightened, grabbed the nearest tie, and waggled it over her face.
Her eyes burned. “Dammit, rebel.”
He swept up her wrists and bound them like she had done to him the night before. This time, he grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her head, leaving it around her arms. Her chest fell free.
David kept working kisses down her neck before taking a nipple into his mouth and rolling it between his lips. She gasped and met his eyes, hers bleary with pleasure. His princess tasted of sweat, sex, and Elana, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
He moved to the other breast and brought that nipple to life, then as he rubbed them with both hands he stopped at the hem of her pants.
“Keep going,” she gasped.
He freed his hands from her chest to pull her pants away from her thick black bush and dove in.
His tongue found the slit with no issue, and made it past the smaller one to dip into her. He kept lapping, but there was a spot he was supposed to find, like a trigger.
His nose brushed up against something and she jumped.
There it was.
He reached for it, took it into his mouth, and ran his tongue across it before returning to the other gap. Still, he left his nose nudging the spot, letting out a huff of hot air over it every chance he had.
Above him, Elana gasped, twisting, and she let out an odd mixture of a scream and moan. David could taste it, pulling back with Elena on his lips. He wiped his face clean of her fuzz and flinched as he hit the bruise on his face. Still swallowing, he made her look decent again. With a tug on the binds, he undid the rope holding her arms.
She brought them down, rubbing her wrists not from injury but unfamiliarity. “What, you’re not going to tickle me?”
It hadn’t occurred to him. He gaped, then a hand around his wrist flipped him onto the bed with a rattle of the chain on his foot.
She climbed onto his hips. “Where did you learn how to do that?”
He gave her a drunken half-smile, protecting his bruised cheek. “I said Sam was wiser than me.”
“You ass.” She pinched his pelvis half-heartedly, knocked aside his weak swats, then fell upon him with a deep kiss. He moaned in pain as her tongue hit the inside of his cheek. They tipped aside. David let Elana curl her head under his chin. She let him wrap an arm and leg around her.
