Olivia’s POV
When I entered, all heads turned. Lord Frederick sat with three older men, his guests, no doubt his allies or puppets. Their stiff postures and stern faces reminded me of vultures waiting for scraps. I smiled sweetly—too sweetly—as I walked past my mother’s stiff form and straight to Frederick. His calm eyes followed my every step, probably expecting me to curtsy, to bow, to play the obedient girl my mother wished me to be. Instead, I shocked them all. I moved closer, my fingers brushing along the arm of his chair, and before he could stop me, I lowered myself onto his lap.
The room fell into silence. I felt his body tense beneath me, his confusion obvious as his eyes darted to my mother, then back to me. I leaned in, close enough that only he could feel my breath against his ear. "Well, my Lord," I purred, grinding myself ever so slightly against him, "is this not what you wanted?"
One of the older men coughed awkwardly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. My mother’s face flushed crimson, her lips pressed into a furious line. Frederick frowned, his hand tightening on the armrest. "Olivia, behave yourself," he hissed under his breath, trying to maintain composure.
But I wasn’t finished. I let a playful smile curve across my lips and tilted my head. "What’s wrong, my Lord? You look... uncomfortable." I shifted again on his lap, slow and deliberate. "Surely you’ve fucked women before. Or is it that you prefer your brides silent and docile?"
The older men shifted in their seats, their disapproval hanging thick in the air. Frederick’s jaw clenched, fury flashing across his face, but I only giggled softly, pretending innocence.
"Maybe," I continued, my tone light and teasing, "if you asked nicely, I might even kiss you in front of your friends. Wouldn’t that make quite the memory?"
Frederick’s frown deepened. "Olivia," he hissed, "control yourself."
But I only smiled wickedly. "Control? Oh, forgive me, my Lord, I thought control wasn’t something you cared for. Not after yesterday..." My voice carried, dripping with false innocence, as I tilted my head and looked at him sweetly. "When your cock inside me was so painfully disappointing. Honestly, I thought a man of your... age and stature would be better. But maybe it was just too small? Or perhaps you don’t know how to use it."
The three older men choked in outrage, one of them slamming his palm on the armrest, while the other muttered a curse. My mother froze, horror etched into her face. I giggled and shifted on his lap again, my voice high and mocking. "It hurt so much, Frederick. You should have been gentle. That’s what men do when they care for a woman, isn’t it? Or do you like it better when they cry?" I let out a laugh, sharp and cruel, letting the words stab him in front of everyone. "Tell me, should I scream louder for you next time? Would that make you feel like more of a man?"
Gasps filled the room. One of the men stood, muttering, "This is disgraceful."
But I only threw my head back and laughed, reckless and wild. "Oh, don’t be so shy now, Frederick. You weren’t shy when you had me last night, were you? Or was that just another fantasy you forced yourself to believe?"
The older men looked scandalized, their glares flicking between him and me. My mother pressed a hand over her mouth, torn between fury and shame. The room had turned into a graveyard of shocked faces, but I wasn’t done. I slid off Frederick’s lap in one slow, deliberate motion and dropped gracefully to my knees in front of him.
Gasps erupted around me.
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