Gleam (The Plated Prisoner 3)

Noises, voices I can’t decipher. Fuzzy images. There’s Scofield with his back to me. Another guard I don’t know. There’s a maid bringing in a tray. There’s Polly, sitting on the chair near my bed, holding a familiar little box, a stack of white petals inside.

So warm...

I press my thighs together, a throb at the apex of them that demands friction I can’t seem to give. My stomach is cramping slightly, and my breasts feel heavy, sensitive.

Every time the silk sheets shift against my skin, I feel it like a caress. My nerves are alight with the sensation. I try to drag off my gloves and tug at my nightgown so I can have the air on my bare skin, but my hands don’t work right.

Frustrated, my eyes close, and I just feel. I feel hands holding me on the railing of a stairwell. A mouth running up the side of my neck, and lips pressing against it with the barest hint of teeth. My body burns, the flames flooding my head with even more smoke.

I need more.

Something drags a

gainst my arm, and then I feel a wetness gather there too, like the trail of a tongue. I peel open my eyes and find Midas standing beside my bed. The thing touching me is a fur shawl, the wet sensation is my gold-touch leaking from my arm.

He moves the shawl away, and then there’s a dainty looking crown being pressed against my skin. Then, shells gathered along a silver chain necklace. Each thing that grazes me feels so good that I nearly moan aloud, my body hungry for touch.

Brown eyes flick up to me, and lips tilt up. “Ready for the ball, Precious?”

A ball? I envision supple dresses and honeyed wine and sweet tarts. I picture sensual music and my body being held as I dance.

I nod dazedly. Yes. A ball.

“Good. Sit up so you can dress.”

It takes effort to do as he says and push myself up, to slip my legs over the side of the bed. Meanwhile, he carries the items he held against my skin and takes them to the door, passing them to someone outside the room.

When he comes back to the bedside, he’s carrying a gown draped over his arm, white in color, looking as soft and smooth as butter.

“Put this on.”

I want to feel it against my skin, so I grip the nightgown around my waist and take it off. When I grab the new dress and pull it over my head, my skin washes it in gold, and this time, I do let out a moan. The bodice rubs against my bare breasts, peaking my sensitive nipples. The waist cinches like a lover’s hands gripping me, and the skirt strokes over my smooth thighs.

Delicious.

There’s a pause after the noise my throat rumbles out. “I’ve made you feel good, haven’t I, Precious?” Midas murmurs.

“Yes,” I breathe, basking in the feel of the creamy texture hugging my curves.

He lets out a little laugh. “These next.”

Stockings, gloves, shoes, I put them all on, one after another. When I’m finished, I close my eyes, head falling back, because every drag of fabric across my heated body feels so...sensual.

I’m vaguely aware of my hand moving, of brushing my hair, though I don’t remember when I was handed a comb.

I don’t remember standing up either, now facing Midas, comb gone. I don’t remember Polly coming into the room, but here she is. Wearing a golden dress, the sheer fabric draping off her body, held together by a clasp at her throat, just like mine. It showcases her every curve, her silhouette a carnal shadow beneath the layers. I wonder if that’s what I look like...

Midas is speaking with her, and although I can hear him, I can’t quite grasp the words.

“—at all times. No one is allowed to touch her. Give her one more before you leave. You know where to go. I’ll be expecting you.”

“Yes, my king.”

“You’ll earn a full box tonight,” he tells her, petting her head, and she practically purrs.

He strides over to me while I sway on my feet. “I’ll see you soon, Precious.”

More time must pass, because the next thing I know, I’m standing at the balcony door, staring at the gentle snow falling down. The light is waning gray, a somber sterling to soak the sky.