“Tell me your dirtiest fantasy, little virgin.”
“I don’t…” My voice cracks as he licks my clit again. “I don’t have any.”
“Liar,” he says, affectionate.
And maybe I am a liar. My fantasies were never fully formed, always glimpses of flesh, only the flash of golden eyes. I never allowed myself to dream that deeply, afraid of what I would find.
“I’ll trade you,” I say, my whole body trembling, on the precipice of an orgasm that might break me. “Everything is for sale. Isn’t that what you told me?”
He pauses, clearly intrigued. “And what will it cost me, this fantasy?”
“A secret.”
The silence clouds with darkness and danger—with threat more real than his castle to my king. “What kind of secret?”
“The kind worth selling.” He knows what I want from him. I’m not sure whether he’ll agree
