"Shh, you made your apologies." Amon turned slightly and my breath hitched. He pressed a thigh between my own and watched as I squirmed closer, the beading creating fascinating friction against my bare sex. His gaze followed my tongue as it flicked out to wet my bottom lip. I wanted to rub myself against him, explore the sensations the dress had to offer. Amon's hand started to rub over my ass and my eyes fell shut, hips rocking, chasing the dull scratch of beading and the pressure of his body against mine.
"That's it, little star," Amon whispered. My hands were clutching into the thick velvet of his coat. There was no fire in the room and the air was cool, but Amon provided enough heat, and the contrast between my front where I was surrounded by him and my back left open to the chill was wonderful.
"I spent the night thinking of what you said to me." My eyes opened again at his words, and I found a thin crease between his eyes. "Arrangements like the ones that exist in this house come with certain expectations."
"I know I shouldn't have—"
Amon cut me off with a kiss, head ducking and tongue licking eagerly into my mouth, stroking against mine, raising fire in my blood. He tasted like the strongest alcohol, sweet and spicy, flooding my head until I was dizzy. By the time he pulled away again, I was panting and practically riding his leg, my lashes fluttering at the press and roll of the embroidery against me.
"We monsters shower women with gifts and riches in exchange for our hours with you," Amon said softly, watching me again.
I frowned, fisting my hand into his collar and trying to draw myself out of the haze of lust that was distracting me. "You're not monsters. You've all been so kind to me."
Amon continued without acknowledging my words. "But you don't want to be bought with gifts, little star." His head bent, cheek nuzzling against my temple, lips traveling down to nip at the lobe of my ear before he growled out, "You want to be fucked. Thoroughly and well. Until you can no longer bring yourself to beg for more. Yes?"
Both of his hands were on my ass now, rolling me into him, my sex already wet and soaking through the thin fabric.
"Yes," I breathed, because in that moment, relief was all I wanted. If I had ever been angry with Amon, it was gone now, replaced only with desire, the demand of an orgasm that was dancing its way around me, out of reach but with a promise of perfect oblivion.
I liked my pretty red dress from Dr. Underwood. I liked my conversation with Auguste and the delicious food he'd made me. But it was true that I would've had sex with either man even without their gifts. They were handsome, and I enjoyed pleasure. Being spoiled after sex was a new experience for me and a treasured one. Discovering company and intimacy outside of the physical aspect of a relationship was teaching me that what I felt while alone was more than just the desire for sex, it was craving the pleasure of just being with another person.
Did the other girls really want the finery first, or was that only what Amon believed?
"Then I believe it is time for my breakfast," Amon rasped, hands squeezing and then lifting me from my feet.
My giggles broke out as Amon carried me over to the dining table. I suddenly knew exactly why there was only one seat. I hadn't been invited down to dine but to be devoured.
"We were interrupted the last time I tried to enjoy you, my little star. We won't be today," Amon said, kicking the chair back enough to fit us between it and the table. He set me on my toes, tugging the beaded shell dress up over my hips before pushing me to the edge of the table. "Lean back."
I rested on my elbows, watching Amon take the seat and draw it as close to the table as he could, his gaze fixed between my legs. I was still shrouded by the sheer fabric, but it was hardly substantial enough to hide me from his view.
Amon growled as I tilted a knee, hiding myself, but the growl softened as I trailed my toes up his calf, rubbing the top of his thigh briefly before bracing my foot against the arm of the chair. He grinned at me as I repeated the movement with my other foot, spreading myself open for him.
"Very good, my star," Amon murmured, scooting forward to the edge of the chair.
I moaned, eyes falling shut, as Amon kissed me through the fabric of the dress. He moved the beading to cover my sex, flattening his tongue and rubbing it over my pussy, spreading my arousal over my skin until I was slippery. My hips bucked toward him, and Amon's hands braced them flat to the table again, grip firm and commanding.
"Amon," I pleaded.
"I said earlier you didn't need to apologize again, and I meant it," Amon said, the warmth of his breath rushing over the damp fabric. I opened my eyes and met his stare. "But now this morning, I want you here, earning your forgiveness."
My lips parted, and I held my breath as Amon began to lap at my core again, rubbing the dress into my sensitive flesh. "What—what do you mean?"
"You want to come, little star?"
"Always," I said without thinking, and Amon chuckled and nuzzled against my inner thigh, surprising me with how much I enjoyed the friction of the beading there too.
"Then I shall punish you with denial," Amon said, watching my face with hungry interest.
I tried not to reveal anything, but I was sure I'd smirked. Auguste had played those games with me, but he'd always enjoyed it when I'd lost my mind and refused to hold out any longer.
"Your stone man is outside. You may call for him if you want to escape me," Amon said with a bright and dangerous grin. "But until you do, you are mine. I will fasten you in place on this table if it is what it takes to make you behave."
I licked my lips as I thought over his words. He'd given me the key to escape. I didn't need Booker to rescue me, Amon was simply saying if I called for the golem, it would be the end.
"How long?" I breathed.
"As long as I choose," Amon said, eyes narrowing. "Until I believe you sincerely can't stand more. And then I'll forgive you and let you come."
I sighed and relaxed a little. Maybe I was an idiot—plenty of people had said as much to me in my life—but knowing I'd get relief eventually was enough for me.
"You'll probably need to tie me down," I said, pushing my knees apart in invitation until I could feel the strain in my thighs.
Amon chuckled, his fingers wrapping around my ankles as his head lowered. He licked me slowly, methodically, mouthing gently through embroidery and fabric to suck my lips and dip his tongue into me. I thought he would try and drive me to a peak quickly, in order to deny me the pleasure more immediately, but instead, he left me simmering in the sweet caresses of his mouth.
And he was right. It was so much worse.
I tried to hold still, to be obedient in the hopes I might reach that promised forgiveness sooner. I moaned his name, tied it together with pleas and sighs of appreciation, sweetening my tone. All I could think of was orgasming. When would he take me to the edge? How many times would he leave me hanging before giving in? Auguste had done it a dozen times once, and I'd nearly gouged his back with my nails in retaliation.
Amon's methods were slower. He wasn't chasing me to the edge only to tear me back again. He was guiding me there slowly and then holding me in place.
His tongue started to focus on my clit, swirling in two circles and then licking straight up the center. With every second swirl, my fingernails scratched at the surface of the table, and with every swipe up, I whimpered.
"Your taste reminds me of honey mead," Amon murmured, drawing quickly back as my hips rose to chase his mouth. When he braced them down with one hand, the ankle he released kicked, my body reflexively trying to draw him back to me. Amon laughed, his hand on my other foot heating my skin. "I see it's time to control you."
Warm metal cuffed my skin, attaching to the chair he was seated in, and I sat up to gape at the gold now adorning my ankle. It was solid, carved with geometric patterns, and there was no clasp that I could see. Amon repeated the magic on my other ankle and then stroked his hands up the inside of my legs, pushing the dress out of his way as he went.
A little note of panic began to burn in my chest, but it was blended with excitement. I reminded myself that I only had to call for Booker if I was truly frightened. Amon hadn't hurt me, quite the opposite—he'd kept me at an edge of wonderful that sharpened almost to pain, and already, I wanted him back in place, pinning me to that same edge.
"Will you behave, little star?" Amon murmured, watching me with buried light in his gaze that matched the gold he'd dressed my skin with.
I bit my lip, thought of that thrill of danger dancing in my chest now, and shook my head slowly.
Amon grinned, toothy and feline. "Then lie back so I can chain you down."
I released a trembling breath and lowered myself to the surface of the table, staring up at the candelabra above me and listening to the sudden music of chains clinking.
* * *