Enthralled (The Enslaved Duet 1)

It was clear Alexander had just awoken by the slumberous cast to his gaze, the softness to his full mouth when it was usually pinched closed.

A fist squeezed around each of my lungs at the sight of him like that, bare chested and stripped of his usual tailored armour.

He looked like a man, not the cold, domineering god I’d come to know him as in my short weeks there.

“Thank you, Riddick,” he said in a slightly sleep-roughened voice that reminded me of his lustful tone of the night before. “You may leave us.”

I stood just inside the doorway and fought the urge to wring my hands together. I’d never been shy or awkward and being so now was not how I wanted to present myself to the arrogant Lord Thornton. But I couldn’t help the girlish giddiness and embarrassment that stemmed from knowing that the man lounging like a king in the bed before me had had his mouth between my legs just hours ago.

A slow smile slide across his lips as if he knew exactly how he affected me. “Come here, my beauty.”

Subtly, I sucked in a deep breath to settle the butterflies in my stomach and the confusion in my head and then I walked to the left side of his bed. His eyes followed me, sharp and intent as a hunter tracking his prey.

“You are beautiful even in your confusion and misery,” he said softly, reaching out when I came to a stop beside him to run the back of his hand over my breast.

My nipple beaded instantly, mirroring the tightening in my belly.

“I need to feed you more.” He frowned as his thumb passed over my ribs, visible protrusions under my skin. “Did you enjoy your meal last night?”

I blushed at the memory of the dinner we’d shared after he’d eaten my cum from between my legs and settled me in my kneeling position back beside his chair. Then, he’d proceeded to feed me from his heaping plate of pasta alla Genovese, deftly spinning the noodles into his spoon and then waiting until I parted my lips to place the twirled bite on my tongue.

It had been oddly erotic to look into his eyes as he fed me, to watch as he studied my lips closing, my throat swallowing. Fresh arousal had swelled in my pussy and leaked down my legs. It was only at the end of the meal, when we’d finished his goblet of wine and my favourite pasta, that Alexander had acknowledge his effect on me by ordering me to stand. He’d then cupped my weeping sex, our eyes locked fiercely, and drawn his hand away wet with my juices.

He offered me two of his damp fingers.

I stared at them for a long moment, my mouth watering shamefully.

“Taste how wet I make you, topolina,” he encouraged lowly, smearing his index finger over my parted lips before sliding them over my tongue.

My mouth closed instinctively, and I sucked hard when he groaned at the sensation.

He pulled away from me too soon and placed his two other fingers at his mouth, sucking them off with a long pull of his pale pink lips.

I was panting by the time his hand fell away.

“You were an excellent slave tonight,” he’d praised. “Tomorrow, you’ll get your reward.”

I blinked away the memory and focused on him. “My mama’s pasta is better.”

Alexander blinked, and then his pursed lips smiled. “Defiant to the last, even when you’re eager for me to touch you again.”

I snorted, determined to regain my atavism. “I wouldn’t hold your breath for that… actually, no, please do.”

This time, I received a low, sinister chuckle. “Careful, bella. If I were to touch your sweet cunt right now, are you promising me it would not be soaking wet?”

I narrowed my eyes at him even though I could feel the heavy pulse of lust thrum at the base of my groin. “And here I thought I was the one who’d need help understanding English.”

His eyes flashed in warning, but to my surprise, he didn’t give in to my taunting. Instead, he threw back the covers, exposing every naked, carved marble inch of him.

My eyes felt as if they would fall out of my head at the sight.

He was clearly not an indolent lord who spent all of his time indoors drinking scotch, reading, and writing letters.

No, this man was an athlete, his long lines of strength individually striated under his golden hued skin so that I could’ve traced each boxed abdominal, every lean thigh muscle under my fingertip.

My mouth went dry.

Alexander moved to the edge of the bed beside me and stood so that suddenly I was dwarfed by his awesome height. He had to be at least six foot four by the way he towered over my own impressive height.