CHAPTER 60: MASSAGE

"Lift your ass." Kael ordered in a cold voice.

Emira shivered at the soft order, the words brushing against her skin like a phantom caress, yet carrying a weight that made her pulse skip. She could not resist, no matter how her pride screamed, no matter how her mind whispered of humiliation. Her body betrayed her.

Slowly, almost trembling, she moved her knees forward, lifting herself just as he demanded. The heat of her shame burned her cheeks, and she closed her eyes, mortified by her own compliance. And yet, even as she tried to sink into denial, her body was already melting under his touch, softening like wax beneath fire.

She had convinced herself these past five days that her responses were nothing but the cruel trick of her own heat, a temporary weakness of flesh. But tonight, as the minutes stretched and his hand moved with devastating patience over her flesh, she felt a fire far stronger than the pull of instinct.

It was deeper, more dangerous, pooling low within her until she could barely hold still. The slow drag of Prince Kael’s hand left a trail of heat that made her shudder, the ache within her body sharpening until she thought she might come apart from the pressure alone.

His hand tightened suddenly on her bu** in a firm and possessive grip. Instinct screamed at her to recoil, to move away, to fight against the inevitability of his dominance. But the command of her instincts was a fading whisper compared to the raw pull of his touch.

Against her own reason, against the humiliation that gnawed at her chest, she pushed herself into his hand, as if seeking more of what she swore she didn’t want. The realization struck her like lightning- she wanted, no she needed. More. Her breath caught in her throat, her lashes fluttering as his hands shifted over the sides of her thighs, strong fingers kneading and massaging the knotted muscles.

He worked slowly, deliberately, edging closer and closer to the place she most desperately wanted him at and wanted to deny him the most.

She tried to close her eyes, tried to escape into the darkness of her own mind, but it betrayed her too. At once she was dragged back to the past five days, to the shameful memories that refused to fade. The taste of his mouth, the relentless way he had made her lose herself again and again. The way his tongue had entered her, hot and merciless, the heat of his breath against her thighs, each moment etched into her body no matter how she tried to resist remembering.

"No," she whispered to herself, snapping her eyes open, forcing her mind back to the present. She could not close her eyes, could not let herself drift into the dangerous illusion of wanting more. Yet even as she fought against it, the reality of his touch was stronger.

His callused hand continued to move over her, spanning her waist, dragging upward in slow, unyielding strokes. She parted her lips, desperate to tell him to stop, but the words tangled in her throat, caught between desire and defiance.

And then, his hands found her breasts. He massaged them with practiced ease, fingers circling, teasing, playing with her nip*les until her body arched upward helplessly. She bit her lip, trying to pretend it wasn’t happening, trying to retreat into silence, but the effort was useless.

He knew. He always knew. Exactly where to touch, exactly how to drag the smallest sound from her lips and the fiercest response from her trembling body.

His hand moved lower, trailing over her belly, then down, until his fingers slid into the heat of her core. The moment he eased into her slit, she should have been consumed with shame.

She should have pulled away, she should have resisted. Yet what she felt instead was the sharp rise of her hips, the involuntary buck that sent her body straining against his hand, taking his hand deeper.

The air squeezed from her lungs, leaving her gasping, her chest rising and falling as though she had been struck by a wave she could not swim against.

And then, without warning, he shifted inside her, circling his finger deliberately, probing deeper with a patience that broke her apart piece by piece. The shock of it had her nearly buck off the bed, her body thrashing with the sharp intensity of the sensation as she felt herself come.

Her world seemed to fracture, falling apart into a haze of sound and light. She slipped forward, collapsing onto the bed with her face pressed hard into the mattress, her breath muffled, her body clenching helplessly around him. Yet still he did not stop. He moved his fingers inside her with slow persistence, as if determined to wring every last ounce of resistance from her body.

When she could finally lift her head, she stared at him with hazy, half-lidded eyes, the edges of her world still spinning. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt. And then, just as suddenly as he had begun, he withdrew. She watched, dazed, as he lifted his finger to his mouth, licked it clean with a casualness that sent another wave of heat rushing through her, and stood.

Without another word, the man lowered her robe back into place, he tucked the blanket around as though nothing at all had just taken place between them. Then, without a glance behind, he turned and walked away.

She stilled then... and before he could leave, she asked," Don’t you want to..." She trailed off when she asked the question, trailing off as she realised her mistake. No. He wouldn’t. Even though he had made her come repeatedly, even though he had played with her and tasted her, he had not taken his release in front of her.

Even when Prince Zen had tried to goad him, Prince Kael had simply sent a cold look and walked away.

Suddenly, Emira felt a cold shiver inside her. Prince Zen... Usually, at this time, it was him who stayed in bed, holding her close. But now, with him gone, even though her body had been completely satisfied, she felt a shover of cold run through her.