Pleasure and Purpose Read online

  So far, Alaric had done what she told him to do because, as he'd said, he could see she had his best interests at heart. It meant he was smart, a trait she admired in anyone but appreciated even more so in a patron. In a lover.

  "Tell me I've not been your most difficult patron." His voice held a hint of teasing. Mina appreciated that, too. A man on his knees was particularly arousing to her, but not if it meant he never knew how to rise to his feet. "You haven't been. I assure you."

  "Nor your best, I'd wager." She heard a hint of something in his tone and knew it well. For an instant sorrow gripped her at how like other men he was. She shouldn't expect him to be different— she must needs remember that though there might be many patrons in her life, she was his only Handmaiden.

  "Never mind," Alaric said. "I know you said you wouldn't lie to me. I shouldn't have asked such a question simply to feed my own vanity."

  "All my patrons are different and unique to me," Mina said. Alaric took in a slow breath, and she watched the play of muscles in his shoulders and chest with heat filling her.

  She pushed him to the ground in front of her with her gaze. "I would have you please me further."

  A slow ripple, a current of tension, passed over him. "I would like to."

  "How would you please me?" She breathed.

  Alaric sank to his knees in front of her and didn't touch her. She watched him, her breath coming faster. Her nipples tightened. She'd grasped his cock and stroked him, that first day, but had never touched him with passion.

  "I would like to taste you," he murmured, gaze moving down over her body to center for a moment on her lap, that she might have no doubts as to his meaning. His eyes caught hers again. "If I may."

  In reply she inched up the hem of her gown to her ankles. Alaric went onto his heels to watch her. He put his hands on her ankles and followed the path of her skirt as she lifted it. By the time he reached her thighs, his fingers trembled and his every breath caught. Hers, too. It had been overlong since she'd had a patron she'd allowed to touch her. Most, though they believed otherwise, didn't require sexual congress with her and no few number of them would have been set back by it. It had been a long time, too, since she'd taken a lover, and his was a lover's touch when he pressed his mouth to her inner thigh. Mina's mind knew the difference, but her body, traitorous though it might be, didn't seem to.

  "Ah," she breathed when his lips caressed the smooth skin. And again, "ah," when his tongue crept out to swipe along it.

  Her fingers clutched at her gown, bunching it so she had something to grab. Alaric shifted closer. His hot breath found her flesh, and then the heat of his tongue. He tasted her, oh yes, with lips and tongue and tender kisses the likes of which had her hips rocking upward within moments.

  Her hand slipped from its nest in her gown and found his hair. Her fingers twined, pulling. Alaric groaned, and Mina's body leaped at the noise.

  His lips fastened on her clitoris and gently suckled. His fingers found their way inside her to probe and stroke, lifting her higher. Pleasure built and spread within her, filling all the spaces that often felt so empty. She rocked herself against his mouth. Mina looked down at him, that man on his knees. She watched the muscles of his shoulders shift and bunch as he worked his tongue against her. She watched the pleasure on his face as he made love to her with his mouth. Many men would've had their hands on their pricks when they did this, but Alaric had focused all his attentions on her. That was what tipped her over the edge more than the skill of his mouth and hands; his unwavering devotion to her pleasure, with no hint of a reward for himself. She climaxed with an unstifled shout. He cried out, too, maybe because of the fierce tug she gave his hair. Alaric spent another few moments with his mouth between her legs before he looked up, smile glistening.

  Mina drew in a slow, long breath before she pulled him upward with a hand on his shoulder. He came willingly enough, looking a bit confused. She kissed his mouth and he pulled back, gaze wary. He didn't protest, but it was clear he'd not been expecting the embrace.

  She let her hand linger on his cheek before she drew him closer to kiss him again. His mouth softened against hers this time, his lips parting when she urged them to. His hands slipped to her waist, holding gently.

  He broke the kiss and ducked his head against her shoulder, pulling her closer. Mina held him with her legs tucked tight to his sides. The chair wasn't the best suited for such a position, and she knew his knees had to be fair aching at this point, but she didn't push him away. She stroked a hand down his bare skin, feeling the bumps of his spine. His mouth worked against her throat but he didn't speak.

  She Waited.

  Most often Handmaidens Waited in a variety of kneeling positions, but Mina had never been the sort to kneel for any reason other than her own comfort. She drew in a breath and let one out and counted the stars of infinity in her mind. She opened her mind to emptiness and floated on it. Her body had been sated, which helped. She gave him the comfort of her silence and embrace.

  "I know it's wrong to be so grateful for you," he whispered at last. "I know a man must needs stand on his feet and determine what path is best for him to take. I know this. And I have ever done so. But. . ."

  Mina turned her face to press her lips to his shoulder. He tasted of sweat and the faintest residual tang of oblivion still rising from his pores. She gave a low, wordless hum. He buried his face deeper against her.

  "Sometimes, it is of great relief to need not guess what is required of you. Yes?" He nodded then, and got to his feet to pace in front of her. Mina pushed her gown down to her ankles and watched him. The front of his trousers still bulged, but she didn't think he was thinking of his prick. Alaric ran a hand over his hair and his fingers caught, tangling.

  "Yes. Yes, it is a relief. There is much expected of a man. Learn in school, gain a position. Take a wife." He laughed, bitterly, and didn't look at her. "Yet I've never had a head for schooling and my position in this court is because of the benevolence of my friend, not any skills I've ever had. And I can accept that, for it makes my parents happy to know their son has risen beyond what they could provide. What they still provide, as a matter of fact, with my yearly income."

  He went to the window and looked out, one long arm stretched out above his head. "And I don't care, as others might, that I'm not smart or skilled or that I'll never gain great wealth from either."

  She would've refuted his lack of intelligence or skill, but Mina only listened. Alaric turned, one hand splayed on his belly. "I will only ever be what I am."

  "As will any of us," Mina told him.

  "I have been so very, very stupid," Alaric said.

  Mina got to her feet and offered her hand for his kiss. "Shhh. There are few mistakes that cannot be repaired."

  He needn't, if he's not able." Cillian shook his head with a frown. "If he's not well."

  "Alaric isn't ill," Mina said.

  Edward shifted in his chair, one long leg crossing over the other. Shadows dusked his eyes and he hid more than one yawn behind his hand, the consequences, perhaps, of the child his wife had so recently borne. "Perhaps he's not suited for it, then." Mina lifted a brow to show him what she thought of that, and Edward shrugged. Cillian tapped the table with his pen, spattering ink over his clothes, his hands, the paper. Mina sighed and got up to hand him a blotting cloth, which he took with a startled glance.

  "He's not ill, and he's suited to any task you should provide him, I think. He's certainly capable of it, at any rate. You did it, after all." Mina let her judgment rest on Cillian's shoulders.

  The king, who had the far-reaching reputation of temper, didn't rise to her bait. His brow furrowed and he chewed at his lower lip. "I hated being the Minister of Fashion. I thought it a position my father fobbed off on me to keep me out of the way."

  "Is that why you granted it to Alaric?"

  Cillian and Edward exchanged looks, and Cillian nodded. "He wasn't. . . well. But I wanted him in my cabinet. You understa