Quinton's voice held a delicious rumbling note and a hint of the exotic, the kind of voice that could summon a throaty growl from the depths of all that physical prowess he carried around with him.
The men and women of War all had substantial presence, but Quinton wasn't as substantial as most of his kin. Strong enough to crush me though, should I find myself on his bad side. That was not the plan tonight.
"Long enough to know your squire is so upright he should be an honorary member of Justice, and you're as bored as I am."
His deep, smooth chuckle traveled through my bones. Seducing this one would be no hardship.
"Logan is my cousin," he said.
"There's no accounting for family."
"And who says I'm bored?"
He couldn't see my shrug, but he'd hear it in my voice. "Not enough bloodshed. Far too few murders. No bloody knuckles."
"Is that all you think my court is, bloodshed and violence?" He stepped into my peripheral vision and braced an arm on the arch above my head, displaying a finely honed arm of corded muscle that his shirt sleeves barely contained. His smirk produced a cheek dimple that was unwarlike and adorable.
"I know it is."
"Hm, you do, huh? And how does the Court of Love's jester know so much about my home? Do they even let you out of this pretty little birdcage?"
I lifted my chin. Quinton shifted close enough to make it clear he either wished to threaten or fuck. Perhaps both.
My heart raced, blood warming. My cock warmed too. Yes, he'd be no hardship at all. "You'd be surprised what this bird knows."
He leaned in, blue eyes sparkling, "I like surprises."
I laughed and rolled my eyes, tipping myself out from under his less than subtle advances. After a few steps, putting some distance between us, I flung a look over my shoulder.
He remained by the arch, expression puzzled, unsure if I'd brushed him off and if he'd misread our silent glances. Warlords weren't bright, much preferring axes to end an argument than debate. Skipping on the balls of my feet, I turned, walking backward.
"You'll like this one." I swept both hands down myself so he didn't miss the point. "Are you coming?"
His smile kicked into his cheek again and he shoved his muscular body into motion, steps quickening. I faced ahead and hurried outside, onto the terrace and down a flight of steps into the gardens.
Moonlight iced the manicured lawns, turning greens silver. A few squeals erupted from deeper in the gardens, others frolicking nearby. Most came out here not to be seen, but I rather needed the opposite. I needed to find somewhere private enough to keep him comfortable, but also public enough to provide witnesses.
Quinton was keeping up, his smile a clear indication he enjoyed the chase. I wove among high hedges, tossing a few smirks behind me, leading him along like a fish on a hook.
"By the endless winds, you're a tease…" There was his growl. Time to reel him in.
I dropped onto a bench, propped up a boot, and sprawled like a feast waiting to be devoured. Quinton loomed, breathing hard, eyes glittering in the moonlight. A bulge upset the lines in his trouser crotch. He'd liked the chase.
I'd read him well.
"You caught me." I gestured at my oh so vulnerable self. "Now what are you going to do?"
"Why me?" he asked, trapped in a moment of indecision. If he was new to this, I'd have to help him along with the logistics of it all. Men of War were taught how to fuck their women counterparts, but not their men. That desire, if they had it, they were left to discover on their own.
"Why you what?" I asked.
"You could have anyone in that ballroom. Why choose me?"
Hm, interesting. Few even cared to wonder. Most just wanted to fuck without knowing why.
I dropped my boot to the ground, propped my elbows on my knees, angling myself at the perfect height to suck the dick that was very interested, and peered up the man's broad chest.
"Must there be a reason? You want me. I want you." I wasn't about to tell him the truth, that I needed his tongue to wag about how he'd bedded the infamous court jester.
His large hands came around his front and his fingers began to unbutton the lower fastenings on his doublet, then pried at his belt, fumbling in his haste. He wanted this more than I'd realized.
No, this wasn't a mere want, it was a need. The poor man was desperate.
I caught his hand, steadying its shaking. "Allow me?" Our gazes met, and an understanding passed between us. He was in safe hands. I didn't know the Court of War like I did the others, but I'd heard enough rumors and whispers to suspect Quinton had little say in any romantic pairings. Love, romance, fucking—it was all a needless distraction from soldiering.
But that didn't mean it didn't happen. The War nobles likely took what they wanted. A young, handsome lord such as Quinton could have experimented. There wouldn't have been any love in it, just a rushed, frantic release.
It was a wonder he hadn't already demanded I bend over for him.
Perhaps he liked it slow.
I plucked at his fastenings and tried to ignore how, when his hands carefully cupped my face, my breath stuttered in my chest. I'd expected roughness from a man of War. Not… whatever this was.
"Your hand…" he said.
I smiled, as I always did whenever anyone noticed my right hand was missing its smallest digit. "It's nothing."
His trouser fastenings finally gave, freeing his thick dick, hidden only by a slip of red silk. My own cock pulsed, trapped in my figure-hugging pants.
Rough fingers skimmed my chin, tilting my face up. "You're him, aren't you? I wasn't sure… until now."
I was so eager to suck the cock of the man who'd somehow surprised me when I was supposed to be the one doing the surprising, his words didn't reach the guarded part of me. That part that would have recognized my mistake and shut this down before it went too far.
I just needed to get this done, enjoy myself while at it, and leave Quinton with a story to tell so everyone would know where I'd been during the early hours of the morning.
"You're the traitor's son."