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Summary
Beron cants forth, sliding his hand into the silken fall of her hair. "You have something to ask of me?"
"Only that you might bid me tend you with my mouth, High Lord," she intones. A true supplicant, she lays her cheek atop his knee, cupping her palm to the back of his calf. Her eyes are round as a fawn's where they look up at him, lashes long and sooty. "I wish to show you all I have learned."
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or: beron is enraptured by his favored bed slave.
Series
- Part 1 of torn on my teeth
