The bristles of my brush moved slowly through my hair, dark strands falling straight and glossy under each stroke. The room still smelled faintly of lavender and clean linen, the scent from my bath still lingering in the air.
I sat in front of the mirror in my room, dressed in a silk nightgown that clung to every curve like a second skin, the fabric brushing against my bare thighs.
I had once hated all these robes, I had hated that I had to wear them for Gideon night after night, I had hated how I looked like a slut in them for him. But now, these very robes made me feel powerful, they made me feel pretty, sexy.
Behind me, the door clicked open. I didn't turn because I knew it was Elias.
"Good evening, ma'am," Elias said, voice steady, low.
I kept brushing.
"He returned everything," he continued. "Territory, funds, assets siphoned from our ports. All of it, Varek yielded. There was no summit. He sent an envoy this earlier, signed and sealed."
The brush paused mid-stroke, of course he did. Fear, when wielded properly, was more potent than a sword. He must've seen the flames licking the borders of his territory and heard whispers of my appetite for blood.
My plan had worked; he had thought I was planning a major attack on him. He hadn't even tried to negotiate. Just folded.
"Good," I said, placing the brush down on the vanity. "Anything else?"
"Nothing that needs your attention tonight." Elias replied.
I looked at him through the mirror.
He stood just a few feet behind me, he'd taken off his jacket leaving him with his black shirt underneath. His face was carved from stone, unreadable like always. I studied the line of his jaw, the veins beneath his skin.
Staring at him was maddeninf because I remembered. God, I remembered everything.
The way his cock had filled me; thick, hard, unrelenting. The stretch of it, the ache, the slick drag as I rode him in the backseat of the car, silk hitched up to my waist, sweat dripping down my spine as my thighs slammed into his hips again and again.
His quiet groan, my moans, the way I'd choked him with one hand and held his wrist down with the other, fucking myself on him like he was nothing more than a tool for my release.
I clenched my thighs as my pussy started to become unsettled.
I'd left him in the car once we returned that evening, my breathing has still been heavy, my pussy, still leaking and soaking my panties, I had returned to my room quickly.
In the shower, I'd watched our release run down my thighs, mingling with the hot water, milky and obscene. I had been so stirred, so in need of another round though I'd just fucked him twice.
But I hadn't even touched myself, I hadn't wanted to.
Now, here he was; Silent, still, cold.
"How do you do it?" I asked him.
"Pardon?"
"You act like nothing happened between us," I said, voice even. I turned fully now, my knees brushing against the vanity as I looked up at him.
Elias didn't flinch. "It wasn't supposed to mean anything."
"I didn't ask what it was supposed to mean." I leaned back slightly, folding one leg over the other. "I asked how you do it."
His jaw flexed, barely. "It's my job."
"Your job," I echoed, tasting the bitterness of those words. "Is it also your job to let me ride your cock until I can't breathe?"
His breath caught, It was brief, barely there, but I noticed.
"It's my job," he repeated, quieter this time. "I do what you ask of me, that's my job."
We stared at each other in the low light, the air between us charged and suffocating.
I stood slowly, the silk robe falling over my thighs, the hem brushing the tops of my feet. I walked to him, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin.
I tilted my head.
"So you let me use you." I said.
My fingers reached out, barely grazing his belt, not pulling, not undoing, just resting there for a second.
He looked down at my hand, then back at my face. His eyes still giving nothing away.
"Perhaps you like it." I said. How could he not? I was a pretty woman, and I was his queen.
He said nothing, just stood there staring down at me with those unreadable eyes.
My touch became bolder and I felt his cock twitch beneath my palm. I smiled, he could hide what he was thinking but he could hide what he was feeling.
I gripped him, not hardly or cruelly, just firmly enough to get his breath to falter. I felt like pushing him to the floor and taking all of him into me, but it had been a long day and I was exhausted.
"You're doing a good job, Elias," I said simply. "I'm going to bed."
And with that, I released him and walked past him, the fabric of
my robe swishing gently. I didn't look back. But I knew he watched, as always.