She exhales a loud, frustrated sigh. “You know what? Fine. Yeah, I like him. So what? Why do you care so much, anyway? I thought you hated him—you’re always calling him a big bore,” she fires back, her words quick and defensive.
Now, now, Sandra, don’t think for a moment you can turn this on me. I’m the one asking the questions here. I let out a deliberately irritating, fake laugh, covering my mouth as though she’s said something absurdly stupid.
“What’s so funny?” she snaps, right on cue.
“Oh, nothing,” I titter, wiping at my eyes even though the falling water makes it pointless. It adds to the effect. “I just remembered something... What was his name again? Colm?” I intentionally get the name wrong—it’ll hurt more, forcing her to speak his name.
“It’s Conor,” she mutters, her gaze and tone dropping.
Perfect. She’s right where I want her.
“Ah yes, Conor!” I exclaim with feigned excitement, my eyes narrowing like a predator poised to deliver the killing blow. “How could I forget about Conor? Seems we’ve both forgotten about him...” I let my words hang in the air, like a choking miasma of shame. Sandra visibly shakes, grappling with an internal battle. Serves her right for trying to cheat—I’m just the messenger of her karma.
“I wonder what he’d think of you—”
“Fuck you, Alexandra!” Sandra snaps, her blue eyes brimming with tears that the relentless shower washes away instantly.
I widen my eyes in mock innocence. “Me?” I query, my voice dripping with false contrition. “You’re the one trying to cheat on your boyfriend. And the poor guy is probably worried sick aboutyou, too.” I shake my head in disdain, twisting the knife a little deeper.
Sandra’s shoulders shake as she succumbs to weeping, overwhelmed by the scathing truth.
“I fucking hate you!” she screams, her voice cracking with raw emotion. But more importantly, she whirls around and bolts from the room. Each slap of her feet on the wet floor a chime of victory.
I smile as the door swooshes shut behind Sandra, leaving me alone. It was almost too easy. Sandra wouldn’t have lasted ten minutes in Miss Cutter’s School—the hellish boarding school mother abandoned meto. There, battles for status were a daily occurrence. They underestimated me back then, taunting me with names likeHeiferandBigfoot. Yet, I had the last laugh when I clawed my way up to become Head Girl. Just like now—they all underestimate me, but I’ll show them. Lexie Turner is not to be underestimated.
I exhale slowly, my gaze drifting toward the veiled end of the room where Dracoth waits. A sudden ripple of trepidation rolls through me, catching me off guard. Sandra was merely the warm-up. Dracoth... he’s the main event.
The shower room is much larger than I initially realized. Each cautious step reveals another row of towering golden statues, standing like silent sentinels in the thick, swirling vapor. Black marble benches and square pillars gradually emerge from the mist making it difficult to get my bearings. Perhaps it’s not the fog—maybe it’s the nerves twisting my stomach into knots along with a swarm of kamikaze butterflies. It’s strange; I’ve never felt this anxious about seducing a man before. But then again, Dracoth isn’t exactly a man.
He's an enigma to me. Despite my attempts, I still haven’t worked him out, which gives me pause. He seldom speaks—being a giant bore, and even his expressions reveal nothing.I thrive on reading people’s subtle cues, learning what makes them tick, what motivates them, what hurts them. Yet, beyond his occasional lingering stare, I’ve no idea. He’s like an intense ball of murder—one I need to charm.
What’s the worst that could happen?
And then, I see him—the red titan in the mist—shattering my thoughts into heart-pounding pieces. He is unmistakable, given his extreme height that dwarfs even his fellowClown-dathianssoldiers. I find it appealing though—it makes him more unique. His back is turned to me, and even from this distance, he radiates a smoldering intensity, almost like the heat of the room emanates from his colossal body.
He stands completely naked, the huge slabs of muscle ripple and pulsing beneath his crimson skin as he runs a strange object over his limbs. It’s surreal—he’s surreal. The sheer magnitude of his size, how fucking strong he looks. He’s something that shouldn’t exist in reality, more like an action movie monster brought to life.
A lump forms in my throat, my mouth dries up, and I doubt it’s because of the heat of the showers. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all? This is far too dangerous. He’s too dangerous. I don’t really know anything about him, other than the fact he’s terrifying!
“Princesa,” Dracoth’s deep, rumbling voice cuts through the misty room, reverberating like a distant earthquake. It’s always jarring to hear his thunderous tone—it makes me feel diminutive, almost like a child again. “What is it you seek?” His long ears twitch as he halts and the cascading downpour glistens off his impossible physique in a surreal haze. The scene takes on this whole crazy, fever dream-like vibe.
“Um...” I start, biting back a complaint about the stupid fucking name Carmen has saddled me with. But now’s not the time for grievances. I need to play this smart, tactful. If he’staken in by Sandra’s good-girl facade, then I’ll need to behave like a meek little ginger mouse—at least for now. “I heard a noise and—”
Dracoth whirls around, instantly vaporizing my composure and words. My mind blanks as my gaze falls to his body—and there it is, swinging against his muscular leg with a lewd slap. His enormous cock. Okay, that is actually fucking absurd—like the rest of him—beefy and thick, with protruding veins mixed with alluring ridges and notches along a length that has me gasping with disbelief. It’s like a weapon of meat, almost as big as my forearm. The glistening tip is even thicker than the rest, not unlike a massive version of a man’s, except for the large pebbled edges. How the hell? I mean, it’s not even hard yet!
“And?” Dracoth asks, his tone tinged with impatience. He stands with the confidence of a gigolo, hardly surprising packing that monster—a monster attached to a monster! Suddenly, I feel very exposed and vulnerable, resisting the urge to cover my own nakedness. He gives nothing away, staring at me with a neutral expression, his molten eyes glowing in the dim, hazy purple light. I’m already on the back foot, and we’ve barely started!
What is the giant bore thinking? Does he like what he sees? Frustratingly, his eyes remain locked on mine.Ugh, he’s making this so difficult!
“And I wanted to see what it was,” I reply forcing a smile, hoping for... something. But the giant bore gives nothing, simply returning his attention to scraping the strange alien tool across his massive chest, like he’s trying to peel his red skin off.
I stand, feeling like a jilted lover at the altar, waiting for a response that never comes. Fine. Whatever, I’ll do all the work—as usual. It’s difficult to form the words, the impressive sight of him turning my thoughts to jelly. He personifies pure masculinity, a demigod of strength and muscle, with a gigantic cock to match. And the way he nonchalantly carries on whilenaked is very provocative... I catch myself wondering what it would be like to run my hands down those chiseled muscles, to trace the deep ridges of his abdomen...
Focus, Lexie! Say something for God’s sake!
“Um... so... what are you doing?” I cringe as the words tumble out.What the hell am I saying? Where has my brain gone?
My awkward question seems to wash over Dracoth as effortlessly as the waters cascading his muscles.
