The heavy oak door clicked shut behind them, sealing the rest of the manor away. Candlelight from a dozen wrought-iron stands painted long, trembling shadows across crimson velvet drapes and the massive four-poster bed that dominated the room. Aiden carried Akidna the last few steps—bridal style at first, then simply cradled against his chest like something infinitely precious and infinitely breakable.
He threw her down with deliberate control.
The silk sheets billowed like dark water as her body met the mattress. She landed on her back with a soft, startled exhale, black maid skirt fluttering upward, exposing the creamy expanse of her thighs and the damp black lace clinging transparently to her swollen sex.
Her hair—long, midnight strands—fanned outward in chaotic waves across the blood-red pillows. The bodice of her uniform, already savaged by desperate hallway kisses, hung in tatters; one breast had already spilled free, nipple dark and straining.
