The Whore by Lilli Feisty Page A

balcony on which she stood was several hundred feet above ground and ornately chiseled with designs ordered by the High Priestesses. She shuddered at the memory. When the brothel had grown to the point where they required more room, the Roses had been the ones who’d traded for the artisans’ services. Excited by the availability of sex each evening, the women had been kept busy. Bryn had taken so many cocks into her mouth during that six-month period, she’d thought her jaw would break.
    The bell rang, a tinkling sound of burnt glass pebbles, summoning her. The elegant noise belied the sourness churning in her stomach.
    With a deep breath, she tightened the scarves strategically wrapped around her body. Soft black fabric tied in a sash around her hips, and another piece of fabric draped across her breasts and tied over one shoulder. Men liked to see female skin, but they also loved the anticipation of finding out what was beneath the flimsy articles of clothing.
    Like any prostitute, she was held in high regard. As she entered her chamber, crossed the room and stepped into the hallway, she reminded herself that despite her duty, she was in a caste higher than any man. She placed her hand on the doorknob and inhaled. Beyond, her Jahn waited. She lifted her chin and prepared to look down upon whomever waited inside.
    She opened the door.
    His chest was covered in a thick mat of dark hair, and large glass ear bobbles were affixed to his earlobes. Of course he’d leave those on. They were a sign of wealth and stature. He was probably an affluent trader. Now he reclined on the bed, a light sheet covering his sex. His erection was visible beneath the linen. Despite his freshly washed hair and body, there was an air of something dirty about him. Something in his eyes, the way he looked at her. Bryn’s sex clenched unpleasantly but she pasted on what she knew was the perfect smile. Coy yet knowing. Innocent yet sexy. Ingenuous yet wanting. Fake fake fake. But it worked.
    The man placed his hand on the sheet and grinned at her. He whipped the sheet off his body, exposing his cock. It wasn’t very big, and the tip was already glistening.
    This shouldn’t take long.
    “Evenin’, Rose. I have a present for you,” he said.
    She dipped her head and looked up through her lashes. Your cock. Goody. Just what I’ve always wanted. Ignoring the nausea churning deep in her belly, she stepped inside. “Oh, sir. How I do like gifts. And yours is just what I was hoping for this fine evening.”
    Licking her numbed lips, she closed the door behind her.
     
    Captain Xander yanked at the hemp ropes binding his wrists behind his back. Fucking Viven’s minions had tied them well. There was no way he was squirming his hands free. He looked up through a lock of brown hair that had fallen perfectly into his face to poke him in the eye. Puffing a burst of air out of his lungs, he attempted to blow the hair away. He succeeded. And then it fell back into place, more annoying then before.
    But his unruly hair was really the least of his problems. The moment he’d stepped onto land he’d been abducted by his Payer’s bodyguards. Now he stood in the fuckwad’s office, and Viven looked none to happy to see him.
    The tall, bald man leaned across his oversized marble desk, steepling his hands beneath his chin. He wore round dark goggles that hid what were rumored to be hollow eye sockets. He said, “Captain. You again fail me.”
    Xander took a deep breath and glanced to the huge guards flanking him. He had to keep his cool. He didn’t have a choice. He faced Viven. “With all due respect, sir, I believe we were very close to finding what you desire this time out. But there was a storm, and we were forced ashore for supplies and to repair the boat.”
    Viven flicked a finger and a guard promptly shot a huge fist into Xander’s gut. He doubled over as pain lurched through him, making his mouth water as a wave of nausea washed through his body.