His breaths came deep and ragged as he fought the arousal. If she so much as bumped his cock accidentally he knew he’d go off, right here on this makeshift examination table. And would that not be mortifying or what? He told himself it wasn’t her. It was what she was doing to him. Any healer doing this exam would have the same effect on him. It was the energy rushing through him that was juicing his libido, not her.
Yeah, right, dumbass.
It felt like an eternity before she moved on, down his right leg, and he finally drew a full breath when he felt the warmth spread out of his groin and down his limb. She was now quick and efficient, examining one leg and then the other. And there was only a tiny twinge of electricity in his groin again when she moved back to start at the top of his left leg.
All that warmth seemed to rush out of the big toe of his left foot, and he heard her push up from the floor, sigh and finally say, “You’re done.”
She turned away from him, replaced the tools she’d used earlier in her bag. Almost afraid of what he’d see, he opened his eyes, stared up at the three-story-high ceiling with its gilded ceiling plates and tried to calm himself. Didn’t work, though. Yeah, that heat was now gone, but his cock was still stiff as a board and there was no way she’d missed that when she’d opened her eyes.
Fuck it. She was being professional about this, and that meant he should be too. After all, there was nothing left between them, right? He pushed up with his elbows.
He shifted to find a more comfortable position—as if there were one. She had her back turned to him and she didn’t look up, not even when she crossed the floor, grabbed his shirt from the couch and tossed it his way. “Everything seems fine. I’ll tell the king you’re able to…” She stopped herself. Seemed to think twice. Then finally said, “That you’re healthy. So long as the sample comes back normal, there’s nothing else you need from me.”
“Sample?” he asked, catching his shirt in his lap and shifting it to hide his still-raging hard-on. “What sample?”
She recrossed the floor, reached into her bag and handed him a small plastic cup and lid. “You’ll need to provide a sperm sample for lab analysis.” She set a brown paper bag beside him on the desk. “Leave it in the bag on the desk when you’re done.” Then she lifted her bag and headed for the door.
Too stunned to move, he only stared at the plastic cup in his hand as she reached the door. She wanted him to…? With her waiting outside this door while he…? Right now?
His gaze shot to her, and though he most definitely wasn’t a prude, something about this felt wrong. Really freaking twisted wrong.
She stopped with one hand on the knob, but she didn’t turn. And there was no way he could read her expression when she said, “I wish you and Isadora…much happiness, Zander. Yeah, I…May you and yours flourish in the tradition of the great heroes.”
The congratulatory words traditionally offered to an ándras and his bride wedged their way into his head, then slinked down to his chest. Where they settled. Cold. Heavy. Dark. The arousal he’d been fighting since he’d stepped into the room slid out the door right along with her, leaving him unsatisfied and edgy. And irrational as it was, his temper flared as the door clicked shut behind her and silence settled over the room.
He didn’t want her good wishes. He and Isadora didn’t need her approval. Growing more pissed off at her words, his reaction and what had and hadn’t happened in this room, he glanced down at his lap, where his cock was now fairly shriveled.
He was over her, dammit. He didn’t need her. And he knew one very clear way to prove that fact once and for all.
Except…before he went looking for Isadora to do just that, he apparently had to jerk off on command. Or stay locked in this room for the rest of his immortal life.
Shhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitttttt.
Muttering curses at Callia, the king, this whole damn situation, he grabbed the cup and his shirt, tossed both on the couch, then sank down into the cushions. It took several minutes for his heart to stop racing and his thoughts to quit swirling, and when both did, he let his head fall back against the headrest, closed his eyes and pictured Isadora. Pale, petite, pretty, perfect. It was no great secret she was one of the most attractive gynaíkes in all the land. And wouldn’t you know it? His cock didn’t even twitch at the thought.
He blew out a long breath. Tried again. This time palmed his groin. He could do this, dammit.
Except…nothing happened.
Frustrated, he mentally undressed Isadora in his mind as he stroked himself, hoping that would do the trick. He pictured her in a long flowing skirt and a sleeveless top. Her pale hair fell all the way to her hips. She skimmed her fingers over her throat, slid them lower, around the outside swell of her breasts, down her sleek rib cage, to finally land at the hem of her coral top. Her milky white hands crossed in front of her, tugged at the fabric, and he caught a flash of sleek skin, the soft indent of her belly button and her toned upper abs as she drew the top higher. He held his breath and waited, watched as inch by inch she revealed herself until she was pulling the garment up and off, and her high, firm, very naked breasts were all he could see.
And oh, yeah. They were perfect. Pink. Tight. Just the right size for a guardian’s hands. For his mouth…
She whispered something. His name? He wasn’t sure. Before he could figure out what she’d said, she was leaning forward, her hair coming down to hide her face as she slid her fingers into the waistband of that long, elegant skirt and pushed it down her curvy hips.
His mouth ran dry. He waited. Couldn’t see anything but all that silky hair and the fabric of her skirt sliding low…lower. And then…all that was left was a mound of satin pooled on the floor at the base of two of the sexiest legs he’d ever seen and a river of auburn hair he wanted to part with his fingers and dive into.
His dick tingled. He felt the blood flow south. He rubbed himself through his pants. Silently cheered because…Yes!…this was finally working.
Only…when she eased back upright and all that glorious flesh came into view, he realized the gynaíka suddenly naked before him was no longer petite and perfect. She was tall and voluptuous, with silky red hair and eyes the color of amethyst. And she was smiling, just for him, like she had hundreds of times before. That one look brought his cock to instant alert, sent every last drop of blood to his groin. And he grew impossibly hard. Harder than he’d been in years. Just that fast.
Callia turned away, giving him a clear view of her toned ass and legs, braced her bare knees on the seat of the couch, inched them wider until he could barely breathe. She shifted around to glance over her creamy shoulder with a sultry come-get-me look that grabbed hold of his chest like a vise and wouldn’t let go.
And then she threw the death blow. The one that crumbled him from the inside out. She whispered, “Take me, Zander. Fast. Before someone gives you a reason to say no.”
Ah, gods, he was lost. It wasn’t even worth fighting anymore. His seed boiled deep at the remembered feel of thrusting hard inside Callia and giving her exactly what they both wanted. And even before the first twinge shot up from his balls, he knew he was royally fucked.