Samuel let out a ragged, breathless exhale. The stark white streaks smeared across his tanned, taut stomach only highlighted the uneven heave of his chest.

His hazy gaze flickered from his own mess right up to Heena. His pupils were blown wide, nearly swallowing the color of his irises.

She shifted her weight with deliberate, slow grace. The motion caused the sheer silk of her bodice to slip just a fraction lower on her shoulder.

The cool air of the room brushed against the damp, clinging fabric, making her own peaks pebble. They pushed proudly against the thin material, the hardened points distinct and begging for attention.

Samuel’s eyes snagged on the sight. Even in his drained state, seeing the tight outline of her breasts made his hips give an involuntary twitch.

The thick, coiled muscle of his thigh jerked against the dark floorboards. His jaw clenched tight, a fresh wave of heat pooling low in his stomach despite his recent release.

"Still hungry, my guard?" she teased, her voice dropping to a sultry, silken murmur.

She stepped right between his sprawled legs. The soft hem of her skirt pooled around his knees, offering him a maddeningly brief, shadowy glimpse of her smooth, bare upper thighs.

She reached down, but not for his slick length. Her slender fingers curled around the wooden clamps that were still biting fiercely into his chest.

He flinched. A low, raw hiss escaped his lips as she gave the small wooden pieces a sharp tug.

With a swift pinch, she pulled them off.

The sudden rush of blood back into his abused flesh made him arch off the floor with a choked groan. His naturally shy nipples were now swollen outward, standing up like bright, tight berries against his skin, hypersensitive to even the shifting air in the room.

Heena let the wooden pieces clatter to the floor. She slowly dragged her manicured nails down his sternum, trailing right through the cooling, sticky mess of his release.

"You made this mess," she hummed, bringing her coated finger up to lightly trace his lower lip. "I think it is only fair you clean it up."

Samuel’s breath hitched as the sticky wetness brushed his lower lip. The musky scent of his own release hung thick in the air, mingling with the sweet, heated perfume radiating from Heena’s skin.

His dark eyes stayed locked onto hers, burning with a mix of deep humiliation and raw, unfaded hunger. Slowly, he parted his lips.

The rough, warm muscle of his tongue slid out. He tentatively traced the pad of her coated finger, gathering the thick, pearlescent drop. He tasted his own ruin for a second before fully taking her digit past his teeth.

Heena felt a sharp tug low in her belly at the wet, indecent sound of his mouth working.

The sheer silk draped over her chest suddenly felt much tighter. As she took a sharp, uneven breath, her peaked nipples rubbed friction against the delicate fabric, sending a sudden spike of heat straight between her thighs.

He kept his hazy gaze fixed upward, right on the swollen swell of her breasts, as he sucked hard. His mouth pulled the last bit of slickness from her skin, leaving her finger gleaming clean with his saliva.

"Good boy," she praised softly.

She pulled her hand free, letting a thin string of moisture snap between them. Then, she tapped her knuckles lightly against his sweat-dampened abdomen, right where the white streaks were smeared across his tanned skin.

"Don’t leave a single drop behind."

Samuel swallowed hard, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing.

His broad chest heaved as he pushed himself up. Bending his neck, he awkwardly strained forward. The thick cords of his neck stood out as he let his tongue drag across the hard planes of his own stomach, dutifully lapping up the mess just to please her.

The wet, rhythmic sound of Samuel’s tongue dragging across his own skin echoed in the quiet room.

Heena watched him work, her pulse fluttering low and deep in her belly.

With every obedient swipe of his tongue, the sheer silk covering her breasts felt tighter. The damp heat in the air made the fine fabric cling stubbornly to her curves, proudly outlining the sharp, tight peaks of her nipples underneath.

Samuel scraped his teeth lightly over his taut abs, catching a stray, sticky drop. His thick neck strained with the awkward angle.

His breathing was still ragged. His broad chest rose and fell, causing his newly freed, hypersensitive nipples to brush agonizingly against his own forearms.

He finished the humiliating task, leaving his tanned skin slick with a sheen of saliva. Slowly, he pushed himself back up, bracing his weight on his large hands.

His dark eyes tracked upward, finding hers. He looked thoroughly debased, a proud guard reduced to a messy subordinate. Yet the primal heat still simmering in his gaze sent a fresh, damp ache straight between Heena’s thighs.

She shifted her stance. The soft fabric of her skirt parted just enough to let the cool air brush against her bare legs.

"Are you clean?" she murmured, her voice dripping with amusement.

"Yes... wife," he rumbled. His voice was raw, vibrating thick and heavy in his throat.

Heena took a slow step closer, closing the final gap until the delicate hem of her dress rested against his damp, bare thigh.

She let her gaze drop to his thick, rigid length. The angry red flush from his denied release still painted the thick, pulsing veins. A single, clear bead of moisture welled at the very tip, gleaming in the dim light.

"Good," Heena breathed, her slender fingers drifting up to the delicate silk tie of her bodice. "Because I am tired of wearing these clothes."

Just as Samuel felt like he was finally about to ascend to heaven—that her delicate fingers were going to undo the heavy brass buckle and grant him the sweet, desperately needed release he had been begging for...

*Knock. Knock.*

The sharp, sudden sound of knuckles rapping against the sliding wooden door echoed through the quiet study, violently shattering the heavy, electric tension in the room.

Heena froze. Her dark eyes flashed with intense, sudden irritation. "Dammit," she hissed under her breath.

She immediately pulled her hands back. Moving with rapid but flawless aristocratic grace, she hurried back to her cushion behind the low wooden table. She quickly smoothed down the wrinkles in her midnight-blue silk dress, grabbed a random bamboo file, and snapped it open, pretending to be deeply engrossed in reading the ancient text.

Samuel clenched his fists so hard his knuckles audibly popped. The sheer, devastating frustration of being stopped right at the absolute peak was enough to drive a man insane. But his survival instincts—and his absolute, unquestioning obedience to her—took over instantly.

Moving with terrifying, blinding speed, he grabbed his discarded clothes. He didn’t even have time to adjust or loosen the agonizing leather restraints underneath. He just threw his linen shirt and navy blue outer robes over them, tightly tied his woven sash, and shoved the wooden cat mask back over his face.

By the time the heavy wooden door slowly slid open, Samuel was already standing in his corner. He looked like a flawless, statuesque shadow guard, though his broad chest was heaving erratically behind the dark fabric, and his legs were trembling from the pure, unreleased agony trapped beneath his clothes.