Queen of Men (King Maker 2)

Never will I let you go, he commanded. His lips changed directions just as he maneuvered me from my side to my back.

In the stillness of the night, he hovered over me with his large body. His green eyes peered into my soul like he’d eat me alive.

With expert hands, he pushed my thighs apart and swiped his tongue down my slit. My back bowed as if wanting to deliver a Cupid’s arrow straight from my heart and into his.

This man… he worked my body into such a frenzy, feasting on me as if I tasted of milk and honey.

I want more, I nearly called out. I was so close, I could taste it.

“Bailey.”

The voice destroyed my illusions like a wrecking ball into the side of a building.

I blinked away the dreams of Kalen that had kept my brain active through the night. His touch may have been a memory, but it was one reluctant to be forgotten.

What was more disturbing was finding my hand on my center as my father walked out of his bedroom into the room. Never had I been more grateful for the blankets that still covered me.

On a yawn, quickly I discreetly shifted my hand away from bringing the reality of my fantasies to life before my father made it over to lord over me.

The sky had barely begun to lighten through the windows when Father’s command rang out.

“Have a care and make yourself useful.”

Father wouldn’t accept a nod, so I said, “Yes, Father,” without a second of hesitation.

His glare of disdain could have meant he’d heard any noises I’d made while in the throes of sleep or Mother’s belief that he loved me was wrong. I thought the latter. He didn’t care about me at all. I ignored both options to allay any embarrassment and so I wouldn’t begin to hate the man.

After he left out the door, I got to my feet and got ready for the day.

I lovingly folded the hand knit afghans my mother made that had kept me warm and placed them back over the side of the sofas. A plate of fruit and cheese rested on the table. Things weren’t left out by mistake. You would be inviting critters of all kinds to break bread with you if they got wind of it. Thus, I knew my mother left the food for me.

The growl in my tummy was persistent, but not as much as the pressure in my bladder. I walked out the back door and several yards to the wooden structure. Opening the door, I appreciated my family’s use of natural bacteria and other things sprinkled down the hole that rested beneath the seat. It broke down the waste left behind, keeping the smell to a dull yuck. It was almost odd to find a roll of toilet paper in such a place that felt so foreign after a few years gone by. Some conveniences were still used even though invented in modern times.

The chill was what had me hurrying to complete my task.

When walking back, I caught sight of the shower stall that was attached to the back of the house where a well pump stood. But it was too cold for such a thing. Water warmed by fire would be used for bathing until the weather once again permitted outdoor showers.

Our house did boast one extra tiny room in the house. It held a tub. I believe it was a gift from my father to my mother when he built the place. However, with no indoor plumbing, it was a pain to use. Buckets of hot water had to be brought in to fill it.

Yet, I eased back into the life I’d been born in as easy as riding a bike after you learned. Some things you never forgot. So, once I was ready for the day, I followed the women making their way to the community epicenter, ready to get an assigned task for the day. I ignored the stares and whispers, as there would be many.

By mid-afternoon, Turner found me in the designated area inside the center using a laundry bucket to rub my sisters’ dresses against a washboard. The day was warmer with the sunlight streaming through the windows and the hearth blazing with fire.

My aching arms had forgotten such manual use. I wanted to sink into the washbasin and douse myself with the water. I was working on the last dress and craved a bath before my family got home from their chores of the day.

Holding my hand up to block the sunlight streaming through the window, I looked up at Turner. His eyes were a burnished gold in the morning light. Their blaze was squarely on me.

“I thought you might be hungry,” he said in a matter-of-fact voice.

His lips were quirked, his hair sexily tousled on his head. I glanced away, not wanting to fall under his spell like I’d done as a girl.