“Oh, um. Missionary is fine,” says Felford.
I nod my understanding. My shaking hand places my brace between my teeth. I manage to move my legs enough to spread for him.
And then he is climbing onto the bed and on top of me. His ice-cold hand twists in the linen of my receiving gown and pulls it up and up. And up. Revealing my naked body to him.
His fingers drop down to my oiled hole, and I shiver. Oh no! I forgot to put a plug in after opening myself up.
“Are you ready for me?” he rumbles.
I scrunch my eyes up tight and nod through the humiliation. He was expecting to find a plug. I will never make that mistake again. But at least I am oiled and opened. Thank heavens for small mercies.
His fingers leave. Something blunt, hot, and heavy brushes at my entrance instead. His cock.
I bite down on my brace and grip the sheets beneath me. But nothing happens.
I open my eyes. Felford is looming above me. Close enough to pull down for a kiss. His eyes are wide and dark. Hazy. Swirling with tea and something that looks like concern.
“Are you ready?” he asks again.
I nod. I wish foreplay was a thing. And kissing. I’ve seen plenty of both in the porn I have secretly watched. But that is not how things are between a vessel and a mage. Our relations are about duty and magic, and nothing more. So this is all I will ever know.
Felford’s eyes darken. His hips move, and he slides into me. I bite down on the brace even though it doesn’t really hurt. It’s more uncomfortable than anything else.
Magic swirls within me. Fanning the flames of my arousal and lust. It makes my cock throb and my hole twitch around Felford. My treacherous magic knows my orgasm will set it free. Enable it to leave my body for my husband’s.
Felford is grunting now. Thrusting away. But this isn’t rocking my world. What is wrong with me? Am I defective? Vessels are supposed to crave their mage’s attentions. Yearn for it.
I need to orgasm. That is the whole point of this.
Okay, deep breath. I can do this. I just need to think about one of my fantasies.
Magic swells. My hips rise. Suddenly, as clear as day, my imagination ignites to life. I see Felford tenderly removing the brace from my mouth. I see him leaning down. I feel the soft brush of his lips upon my own and it feels so very real.
My orgasm boils over. Heat and steam and fury. Hissing and spitting. My body convulses. My magic pours from me in a never ending torrent. Escaping my body and slamming into Felford.
The relief is immense. I was on fire, and now I am smothered in ice. It is over. It is done. I have performed my duty and now I can sleep.
Chapter seven
Lucien
Why do all doctors’ offices smell the same? Sterile and cold. Ominous.
This waiting room has posters of anatomy on the wall. Plastic plants glisten dully in the strip lighting. Healer Henderson really has this whole masking as a mundane doctor thing down to perfection.
The chairs are comfortable. Classical music is playing softly through a speaker hidden somewhere amongst the plastic leaves. Henderson clearly aims to serve wealthy patients. Which I suppose I am. But I should still be grateful he could see me at such short notice.
“The doctor will see you now,” says the receptionist brightly.
Her blond hair is perfect. Her skin flawless. I wonder if Henderson hires on looks alone.
She leads me, heels clacking on the floor, to a white door and opens it to reveal a typical exam room. Henderson looks up from his computer screen. His brown eyes are a little cold behind his glasses. Lines of age run across his skin, and his hair is peppered with gray.
“Ah, the new Count Consort. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
He gestures for me to take a seat. The receptionist leaves and the door clicks shut behind her. This room smells of antiseptic and a faint whiff of tobacco. The lighting is dimmer in here. More soothing.
“I never see any Colvilles despite them just being up the road,” says the healer merrily. “Delightfully healthy.”
Ouch. Okay. I get the barbed insult. No need to rub it in. I’ve married in to the local noble family and I’m clearly already not good enough.
“How can I help?” he says.
His smile looks false to me. Vaguely threatening. But he was recommended, and it is not like there are any other healers nearby. I don’t know if he moves in my parents’ circles. But that’s fine. My sacred task has nothing to do with this visit.
I take a deep breath. “I am not enjoying my husband’s attentions as I should.”
His eyes widen. He nods encouragingly. Oh gods, he wants me to say more.
“It hurts to take my husband,” I all but stutter.
“Have you been preparing yourself correctly?” he asks.
“Yes!” I protest before blushing. “I mean, I think so. To the best of my ability, at least.”
His lips purse. “Who was your trainer?”
“Mr. Richards,” I supply dutifully.
