"Spread your legs a bit," Syris commanded smoothly.
Ren furrowed her brows, blinking at him in genuine confusion. The sponge in her soapy hand dripped back into the basin. What in the world was he up to now?
"Like this?" Ren asked, obediently shifting her feet further apart on the wet stone floor.
"Perfect," Syris purred.
Before Ren could even process his sudden movement, Syris stepped seamlessly right behind her. His large, pale hands clamped securely onto her hips. With a firm, effortless push, he forcefully bent her upper half over the smooth obsidian table, forcing her to plant both of her soapy, dripping hands flat onto the stone to catch her balance.
"Hey!" Ren gasped, her eyes going wide.
Without a second of hesitation, Syris grabbed the hem of her short, emerald silk dress and aggressively yanked it all the way up to her waist. The cool, damp morning air of the scullery instantly hit her bare ass and thighs.
