Currency in Flesh

Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

P eering into the cabinet, I saw that it led into a bedroom. The marble floor and scent of a mineral hot spring was familiar, and the phantom taste of pomegranate slid across my tongue. Was this Lady Cora’s personal bedroom? And if so, why bring me here?

I ducked and stepped into the cabinet, trying not to squeal with surprise when it completely vanished behind me. “Hello, pet.” Lady Cora’s voice drifted across the space, but I looked around and couldn’t see where she was.

“Hi,” I answered, sounding a bit nervous as I walked around the room in an attempt to find the source of the voice.

“Here,” she called. I turned and saw an open door with an arched opening. Steam drifted from just beyond and I cautiously passed through it into a very, very warm room. The air felt thick and mildly salty—heavy with the bite of sulphur I attributed to natural hot springs. There was a small staircase leading down into a dark room, and I bent to remove my boots before attempting the likely slick marble stairs.

I stepped into something out of a movie. The room contained a large recessed pool of black and sparkling white stone. It seemed as though the room itself was built to house the steaming water, and the darkness of the stone made determining its depth impossible. Candles surrounded me, flickering from within brass sconces mounted on the walls. Other than the pale yellow glow the flames cast across the space, there were no lights of any sort. A small table held a bottle of amber liquid and two glasses, along with a stack of large, fluffy, black towels.

I heard Lady Cora before I saw her. She was submerged up to her shoulders, only the graceful curve of her neck and collarbones visible above the dark water. Her hair spread out around her in a pale, silk curtain. Her sharp jaw faced away from me and her eyes were closed, allowing long, straight eyelashes to fan out over her flawless cheeks. She didn’t look real, like a woman carved from faceted glass rather than soft flesh.

“Come,” she said without opening her eyes or moving at all.

“I don’t have—” She shifted in the water. I saw a flash of bare skin just below the surface and swallowed my reply. The mineral-rich air flowed through my nostrils as I took a grounding breath. I had just faced the greatest source of fear in my life head-on. I could get naked in a hot spring.

Pulling my sweat-damp tee shirt over my head, I dropped it to the floor before remembering where I was and retrieving it. I folded my pants and left all my clothes in a tidy pile atop the table. There was even less light on this side of the room, and I was thankful for it as I bent to strip off my silk underwear and stood, entirely nude. There was a slight breeze, and it drifted over my exposed skin, pebbling my flesh. I fought the urge to cross my arms, and instead, pushed my shoulders back and took down my hair before making my way into the water.

It was unsettling to not see the bottom, but my toe found smooth stone and I stepped into the darkness beside Lady Cora. She didn’t look over, just sunk more deeply into the spring until everything below her ears was underwater. “Relax, blossom,” she murmured. “This is a place of calm.”

I had always loved to take baths—hot water, fancy bath salts, fizzy bath bombs and calming candlelight—so this felt familiar down to my bones. My muscles loosened despite my elevated heart rate, my body knowing what to do even with a mind full of racing thoughts. She was so close, so naked, so tranquil, and the familiar tension deep within me began to uncoil. I had become so accustomed to feeling emotions that hurt—pain, fear, anxiety, shame. But somehow, it had all settled into a faint buzz at the back of my thoughts. Instead, the only thing I felt at this moment was satisfaction. It made no sense, nothing had truly changed, but seeing Sean’s eyes filled with terror and agony had smoothed the jagged edges of my nerves.

“I broke his wrist,” I said, interrupting the quietude. Lady Cora laughed.

She spoke with no hesitation. “Good. I hope he screamed for you.”

“His mouth was still sealed shut, but he certainly tried.”

“If only I had been permitted to listen in.” She shrugged, one shoulder rising from the water. “I had forgotten.”

My attention was so fixed on the flash of her skin that it took me a moment to process what she had said. What is wrong with me? “I have plenty of time to make him scream.” I turned away, attempting to shake the persistent image of my lips pressing to her pale shoulder. “Don’t I?”

“You may have all the time you desire, Grace. I will not deny you a single moment.”

She hadn’t said my name in a long time, and it punctuated her assurance in a way that made me turn back to face her. Her eyes were open, their light shimmering on the rippling water of the spring. I couldn’t speak, held bound in her gaze like it was spider silk. I shifted toward her involuntarily, and her lips parted just a fraction. The air itself seemed to stop all motion, the curling wisps of steam coming to a halt above the glassy surface.

“Will you keep me from your thoughts, even now?” she whispered. My core went molten. I knew she could see the heat in my gaze, the shallow catch of my breath. She knew what she would find in my imagination. So I shook my head softly, and I let her in.

We moved simultaneously, frantic beneath the heated water. She pulled my body over hers until I straddled her narrow hips. I felt like we should be reversed, her lithe body hovering over the plump spread of my own. But I had let her in, and before I could recall the thought, her eyes were fixed on mine.

“What did I say, pet?” she asked, lips brushing the skin of my breast.

“I didn’t mean it as self-deprecation. I meant logistically,” I stuttered. “I could easily pick you up and move you around. There’s a lot more of me.”

Her reply was a low hum of approval. “Yes,” she agreed, “there is.” I looked down to see her tongue slip from between her lips to circle my nipple slowly. My entire body shuddered. Despite the inhuman length and movement of it, her tongue was so fucking soft and warm. She pulled my peaked flesh into her mouth and bit down gently, eliciting a moan from me. I tipped my head back, the soft waves of my hair skimming the surface of the spring, and she moved to the other breast. My hips ground against her of their own accord and I knew that even under water she could probably feel just how wet I was.

She nipped and sucked her way across my chest and up my neck, sharp teeth finding my earlobe while she whispered my name. It was sinful indulgence, terrifying arousal, but I couldn’t shake the thought that this was too gentle, too sweet. I had always yearned for gentle and sweet, but in this moment all I wanted was hard and rough. I wanted the Lady Cora who had slapped me across the face and ordered me to lick her feet. I wanted the woman who forced her way down my throat and denied me breath with the press of her hand. I wanted to be the one tied to that frame, at her mercy and entirely under her control.

“Oh, daffodil, you should never have let me see that,” she purred into the shell of my ear.

I rolled my hips in reply, feeling the soft line of plump flesh between my thighs part as I struggled to find friction. She moved quickly and with a strength that betrayed how much restraint she had used thus far, lifting me up and turning to drop me roughly on the stone. Her knee pushed my legs apart, and she stepped into the space, looking down at my upturned face with ferocious want. I made a noise akin to a whimper, but she cut it off with the press of her thumb and forefinger at either side of my throat. My own hand drifted down, trying to give myself some sort of relief, but she snatched my wrist in an iron grip and completely cut off my breath.

She tutted her disapproval and commanded, “Open your eyes.” They had begun to fill with tears as I struggled for breath, but I complied, looking up to see her pale silhouette in unsteady focus. “You do not touch yourself,” she said. “Not now, and not again. Ever. Do I make myself clear?”

I nodded, and the added pressure the movement of my head added to my throat nearly sent me tumbling into unconsciousness. She released me at precisely the right moment, and I sucked in greedy breaths of hot, steam-filled air. I could taste her—the heavy sweetness of ripe, black plums wrapped in smoke and flame. I wanted to really taste her, needed to taste her.

“Please,” I rasped, “kiss me?” It was a plea, not a command, and I was desperate for her reply. I had never needed anything like I needed her kiss. There was nothing I wouldn’t do in that moment to convince her to press her mouth to mine.

She gave me a vicious smile and a deep, fiendish chuckle before lowering herself and placing her hands on either side of my shoulders. Our lips were so close I could feel the heat of her breath with my own inhale. Could I survive on air from her lungs alone? I didn’t even care. I’d gladly die if it meant I could be hers.

The instant the thought passed through my mind, I realized it was true. Maybe it was some psychological trick, my brain absolving her of all her sins simply because she had saved me from Sean’s. What did they call it? Stockholm Syndrome? But fuck, even if this feeling was some emotional fault that necessitated therapy more than indulgence, I needed it. I needed her. What are you doing to me? I asked without words, frenzied in my desire but all mixed up over what it all meant.

“I do not require sorcery or subterfuge, pet. Whatever you are feeling is a creation born entirely of your own mind. My only aim has been to drag you up off the floor and teach you to stand.” Her lips brushed mine as they formed the words, and I angled my face to feel every single consonant. Her mouth curved into a smile and then she kissed me deeply, the fathomless yearning within my very bones vibrating with satisfaction.

She kissed like she could sentence me to contrition by way of her tongue. I gave in like a kneeling, penitent soul, begging for absolution. I moaned into her mouth and she swallowed every sound, pulling noises from places I didn’t understand. Again, her long, writhing tongue pushed past the entrance of my throat and I gagged around it. She only pressed further, shoving her way in. My eyes squeezed shut, so I felt rather than saw her climb astride me—sensing the way her body moved alongside the rough motion of her mouth. Lady Cora’s hips rolled against me as she fucked my throat with her tongue, and I was nearly overcome by the urge to move my hand between her legs.

She pulled herself from me with terrible slowness, swirling around my mouth before leaving me completely empty, and I almost cried from the feeling of loss. But she kissed me gently, with approval, and my chest bloomed with a pride I didn’t understand. “Oh, what a good pet you are,” she murmured, pulling her lips from mine. “Do you want to be my good little pet?”

“Yes, Lady Cora,” I panted. And I did. I wanted to do whatever she asked of me, wanted her to keep asking.

I felt her hand wrap around my forearm, moving my hand up precisely where I’d wanted it—hovering between her thighs. “Do you want to give me pleasure?”

“Yes, Lady Cora.” My voice was a plaintive whine.

“You want your fingers deep in my wet cunt? You want to feel what it means to make a goddess come?”

A sob tore from me. I was so overwhelmed with desire and desperation I couldn’t find the words to answer her, so I just nodded, hoping it was enough.

“No, pet. I want to hear you say it. Tell me you want to please me, tell me you want me to ride your fucking hand.”

“Please, Lady Cora,” I whimpered. “I want to make you come. I want to be inside you. Please, please let me touch you.”

Her other hand dared out to clutch my jaw, pricking my cheeks with the points of her nails. Tears streamed down my face, and I knew she had broken the skin from the sharp sting of salt. “Open your mouth,” she commanded, and I complied with no hesitation. She licked my lips, the ghost of a laugh dancing over my tongue as she did. I could hear the note of approval in that laugh and I preened. Without warning, she let go of my cheeks and plunged two of her fingers into my mouth and down my throat. This time I didn’t gag, I welcomed her in. She swirled her fingers through my saliva and I opened my eyes when I felt her gaze on mine. She smeared my spit over my cheeks, through the tears and tiny spots of blood, and lifted them to her mouth—sucking them off with an audible pop.

I writhed beneath her weight on my lap, feeling how slick my thighs were where they rubbed together. “Do you want to make me happy, Grace?” It felt like the glow of her eyes saw through me to the fragile threads binding this confusing, inexplicable need for her.

“Yes,” I replied. “Please.”

Her hand struck my cheek hard enough to knock my face to the side. I was breathing heavy, panting with a heady blend of pain and pleasure. She grabbed a handful of hair at the crown of my head and pulled my face back to hers. “Then do it.”