Free The False Martyr by H. Nathan Wilcox Page B

was starting to get bored. I
even thought about putting on clothes.”
    Ipid smiled but did not
fall into the trap. “I found us some wine.” He held up the bottle
then realized he had brought nothing to remove the cork.
    “ I’ll just take some of
that water.” Eia propped herself up in the bed but did nothing to
cover herself. Ipid pulled himself from the bottle long enough to
pour two cups of water. Eia drained hers almost as quickly as she
took it. He poured her another with the same result.
    “ Would you like some
bread?” Ipid held a round of Darthur flat bread out to her. “This
is all that is left. We’ll need to find some food soon.”
    “ You eat it. I don’t need
much, and I actually ate my dinner last night.”
    Ipid sat in the chair at
his desk to eat. Despite Eia’s offer and the rumbling in his
stomach, he left her half untouched. The entire time, she watched
him, naked body squirming into various positions, patience
obviously thin.
    “ Are you ready to return
to bed?” she asked while he chewed his last bite. “I’m
bored.”
    “ I should write some
letters before the day is completely lost.” He looked at the stack
of paper on the table, caught between desire and duty.
    “ And how do you plan to
send your letters? I haven’t seen any couriers waiting. Might as
well come here and have some fun while we can.”
    Ipid shook his head. “Are
you completely insatiable? I’m not as young as I used to be. Even
if I didn’t have all this to do, I need time to
recover.”
    Eia made a false pout,
rose from the bed, and walked to the desk. She sat on his lap,
straddling him. One hand went to his hair, the other to his crotch.
She pulled his head back and brought her mouth to his ear. Warm
breath tickled across his face. A hand caressed him through his
pants. “Doesn’t feel like you need a break.” She kissed him, took
his breath, then moved her mouth to his neck. “If you’re tired, I
can do the work. You don’t even have to get up.” Her body moved on
his to illustrate her point. She tried to move her hand past the
band of his pants, but Ipid recovered just in time.
    He caught her hand, held
it away. He was ready, but he was not some boy. He knew that all
relationships had to have limits, had to have boundaries. If he
allowed Eia to pull him in now, he would never escape her, would be
at her constant beck and call, and it appeared she would be calling
often. “I said, no.” He was gentle but firm. “I am tired, sore, and
just a bit overwhelmed. This has been wonderful, but I need to do
some work. We have a week. There is plenty of time.” He tried to
smile.
    Eia scowled. She ripped
her hand from his. “Fine. I’ll leave, but remember you had your
chance. I may not be interested later. I may have found another
diversion.” She pushed herself off of him with a hand hard on his
chest. She stood beside him for a moment, clearly hoping he’d
change his mind, but he just grabbed a piece of paper and pretended
to think about what he would write. So, with a huff, she snatched
the bottle of wine from the desk and strode to the door. She threw
it open with a crash and stormed out of the room, without a stitch
of clothes.
    Ipid released a long
breath and tried to adjust himself. He watched the doorway for a
long time, almost wishing that she’d come sauntering back through.
She didn’t, so he returned his attention to his desk, to the blank
page before him, but he suddenly could not think of a single thing
beyond the feel of Eia’s body pressed against him.
     
    #

    It was after noon when
Ipid looked up from the papers before him. He adjusted the damp
collar of his shirt. It was another sweltering day – the breeze
through his window like a furnace – and he was not sure why he had
decided to put on real clothes. Partially because it felt wrong to
do work in his pajamas but also, he knew, to separate himself from
the scent of Eia. Yet even with his nightclothes folded on the, now
made,