The heavy door to Lord Kass’s study groaned on its ancient hinges as I strode in, the borrowed velvet gown swishing against the polished wood floor with every determined step. The gothic manor around me loomed like a brooding beast, all shadows and secrets, but I was no shrinking violet. Sixty years of cunning trapped in the lithe, deceptive body of a twenty-year-old? I was a goddamn weapon, and this dimly lit room—candlelight flickering over towering bookshelves—was my battlefield.
Lord Kass didn’t even deign to look up from his desk, buried as he was in scrolls and leather-bound tomes. His dark hair fell over his brow, framing a face carved from arrogance and melancholy in equal measure. He was every inch the brooding lord I needed to conquer, and I’d be damned if I didn’t enjoy every second of breaking him down.
Without a word, I sauntered over to the massive four-poster bed tucked in the corner—because apparently, lords sleep where they scheme—and perched on the edge. I let out a dramatic shiver, rubbing my bare arms with exaggerated gusto. “My, it’s positively frigid in here, Lord Kass,” I purred, my voice a velvet blade. “Don’t you ever light a proper fire, or do you prefer your guests to freeze into statues for your amusement?”
His quill didn’t falter, scratching away as if I were nothing more than a draft sneaking through the window. Infuriating bastard. I upped the ante with a sigh that could’ve melted iron, breathy and dripping with suggestion, as I “accidentally” let the neckline of my gown slip. One breast teased the air, and I gasped softly, “Oh!” as if I hadn’t planned every damn inch of this performance.
Still nothing. Not a flinch, not a glance. Just the relentless scratch of his quill. Fine. If he wanted to play the ice king, I’d turn up the heat until he burned. With a huff, I stood, the gown whispering against my thighs as I sauntered over to his chair, my hips swaying with intent.
I placed my hands on his broad shoulders, kneading with purpose, my fingers digging into the tension there. “Goodness, my lord,” I murmured, my voice a low, sultry hum as I leaned closer, “you feel so… tense. Don’t you ever relax? Or do you carry the weight of this dreary manor on these shoulders alone?” My fingers dared lower, tracing the hard lines of his chest through his shirt, a slow, deliberate tease.
He stiffened under my touch, but his face remained a mask of indifference. My hands slid further, brushing over the waistband of his trousers, and I leaned in, my lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Even with my… lost memory,” I whispered, my voice dripping with faux innocence, “I feel so indebted to you for saving me. Surely, there’s some way I can repay such kindness?”
Finally, a reaction. His breath hitched, a crack in his stoic armor, and in one swift motion, he scooped me up as if I weighed nothing. I bit back a smirk as he carried me to the bed with a tenderness that almost made me laugh, laying me down like I was some fragile flower. Oh, darling, if only you knew.
He moved over me, careful and slow, his hands gentle as he parted my thighs. Clearly, he thought this was my first rodeo, and I had to bite my lip to keep from cackling at the irony. Sixty years of experience in a body he assumed was untouched? This was almost too easy.
As he entered me, the illusion shattered. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of realization crossing his stupidly handsome face. I couldn’t help the smirk that curled my lips, watching betrayal dance in his gaze. “Not quite the blushing maiden you expected, are you?” I teased, my voice a low, wicked drawl.
He pulled out with a dark chuckle, rolling onto his back beside me. “I’ve overpaid at the market, it seems,” he muttered, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes, a challenge that sparked something wicked in me.
I propped myself up on an elbow, arching a brow as I looked down at him. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m worth every damn coin and then some. You just haven’t seen the full inventory yet.” Before he could protest, I crawled over him, my lips wrapping around him with a skill that wiped the smirk clean off his face. I worked him with ruthless precision, bringing him to the edge, his hands fisting in the sheets as he groaned.
Just as he started to thrust into my mouth, desperate and undone, I pulled back with a wicked grin. I stood, my gown half-hanging off me, and tossed a taunt over my shoulder as I turned to leave. “If you want more, my lord, you’ll have to beg for it. I don’t do charity.”
A snarl ripped from his throat, and before I could take another step, his hands gripped my hips with a force of iron, yanking me back. He took me hard from behind, the bed creaking under the force of each thrust, a delicious battle of wills unfolding with every movement. “Beg?” he growled against my ear, his voice rough with lust. “I don’t beg, darling. I take.”
“Oh, do you now?” I shot back, my voice dripping with mockery even as my body arched into him. “Then take harder, Kass. I’m not made of glass.”
He flipped me around with a grunt, pulling me onto his lap, face to face. Our breaths mingled, hot and ragged, as he drove into me again. My nails dug into his shoulders, both of us fighting for control in this twisted, heated dance. “You think you’ve got me figured out,” he rasped, his eyes burning into mine, “but I’m not some pawn in your little game.”
I laughed, low and throaty, my hips rolling against him with deliberate intent. “Oh, Kass, you’re not a pawn. You’re the whole damn board—and I’m about to checkmate you.”
His grip tightened, a feral edge to his smirk as he thrust harder, determined to prove a point. But I wasn’t backing down. Not now, not ever. This was war, and I played to win.
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