A light chuckle escaped the knight’s lips. “I’m not about to divulge the fact you fingered your fiancée before your wedding, so let’s not worry about that. I actually commend you for it. No woman should walk around unsatisfied.”
She always felt like she was coming so far, during the day when she had her kids around her. When they were laughing and happy. When she filled her time with work, or fulfilling her duties as Princess.
Arthur sat up in his bedroll and fixed Gwaine with a flinty stare. “Gwaine, for the last time, shut up!”
At the first caress of her fingers, Jessie body reacted, blood rushed to meet her touched leaving him light-headed and dizzy. He lowered his head on her shoulder and moaned against her neck. "Oh, wow!" He mumbled to himself as pushed his hips against the palm of her soft hand.
“Don’t be an ass,” she sighed before taking a long pull of the bourbon. A biting sweetness bathed her tongue, and when she swallowed, it cut a fiery path down her throat before spreading a relaxing warmth through her limbs. Maybe their choice of food was crap, but the bourbon was quite fine. “And, thank you for the complement. But, I don’t think Viktor see anyone other than himself as dangerous.”
His mouth opened, the veins in his neck tightned and his face reddened but there was nothing. His words fell from his lips in exasperated silence 'what had she done?' his finger tightened around her neck, he could fill her bones begin to crack beneath his might.
"No, I didn't. You gonna me my slut, you need to learn to do what you're told. Got it?" It was a rhetorical question really, as without allowing her time to respond, he released her arm and pointed to the floor. "On your knees, slut, and......." The boy's mouth flapped open and closed, and his pupils widened, as with green orbs locked on Sofia's, words failed him. "What the fuck was he supposed to do now?"
Gasparro was keeping one wary eye on the stranger at the far table. Trouble. He had a feel for it. Night like this one, with the wind howling chill down off the steppes, and not a soul through the pass out of Midland for a month. Maybe longer. Times past, the common room would've been thick with travellers, tall tales, news. Times past. The Black Ram had always been a little run down. But now it was run down to the ground, and empty into the bargain. If people came, they didn't linger. They drank and left, or they wrapped themselves up in their cloaks and trudged on up the stairs to a room. A skittish glance and the words, "Hard times," was as much as came out of them.
Antonia is walking in a clockwise circle around the art area of the center, glancing with her eyes at each table as she passes by. Two minutes going around, Antonia makes a sudden stop and stares at the rectangle table, that is covered with red and yellow paint. Mila skips beside Antonia standing on her left side. Pointing at the table, “look at the table Antonia!!” she shouts and “I am!” Antonia says with a smile. Both girls strolled closer to the table holding hands, Mila’s fingers intertwined with Antonia’s. Antonia bent her torso over and looking right at the paint she blurted “ EWWWWW ITS YUCKY!!” with nose scrunched up. Teacher Sandeep standing across the table, kneels down on her left knee, and uses her right index finger to swirl red paint into circles on the table. “The paint feels very cold on my finger” Sandeep announces. Within 15