The Warlord (Rise of the Warlords 1) - Page 72

“Move against me, and I’ll ensure you come first.” He combed through her tuft of curls and tapped her clit, making her gasp.

More! No, no. Must. Resist. Never accept a picture of defeat. “Put your fingers inside me,” she croaked, reaching up and behind to grip his hair. The new position thrust her breasts forward.

“I want your fingers. I need them. Mmm. You’ll stretch me so good. I’ll moan so loud. All my aches will go away.” She scraped her nails over his scalp. “Make my aches go away, baby...or I’ll do it myself. Do you want to watch me? Hmm?”

“Your pleasure is mine!” He thrust two fingers into her, robbing her of breath, of thought. “Can’t get enough of you,” he confessed against her flesh. His husky voice vibrated through her bones, raising new goose bumps on her limbs. As he thrust his fingers in and out, he stroked her little bundle of nerves with his thumb.

Her inner walls clenched to hold him inside. She moved with him, chasing her orgasm. “Already so close.”

When he stopped and withdrew his fingers from her, Taliyah nearly threw fists of fury. He’d given her a taste, then taken her drug away. Payback was going to suck for him. Except, his power play never came.

He ran his tongue up both fingers, his eyes closing. “The sweetness of you.” The noise he released then...unfathomable need. He dropped his chin to her shoulder, telling her, “I want more—straight from the tap. Give it to me.”

His voice had changed. He sounded like a man possessed.

“Yes,” she rasped.

The next thing she knew, they were standing. Once again, she faced him. He towered over her, panting. Strain etched each of his features. He looked harsh and battle-ready, his muscles like rocks.

“If you want more,” she told him, noting her voice had changed, as well, “get on your knees and take it.”

Their gazes clashed.

“You wish me to kneel before you.” He gritted out the words.

“No,” she said, and he flinched with disappointment because he wanted to kneel. He could have flashed her flat on her back in bed. He hadn’t. He’d flashed her to her feet. “I expect you to kneel before me.”

Would he do it?

She lifted her chin, adding, “You’ll get what you want no other way.”

A single minute stretched into eternity. His breaths grew more laborious. Then...

Inch by agonizing inch, he lowered to his knees, settling between her parted thighs. She gaped down at him, astonished, amazed, baffled, confident, vulnerable, unsure, dazed and so aroused she wondered if she might be forever altered.

He licked his lips. Awaiting permission?

“Do it,” she commanded.

24

Roc dragged his tongue through his wife’s honey, rapturous. The taste of this woman! Nothing compared to her. She was a wonder without equal, and he feared he might crave this—her—for years, decades...centuries to come.

A fear he would dissect and destroy later. For now, he wished only to enjoy. He was Commander of the Astra Planeta, and if he wanted to bed his phantom, he would bed his phantom.

He had earned the right.

As he feasted, greedy for every drop of arousal she ceded, he ran his hands up her legs...higher, squeezing and kneading firm muscle. Every soft mewl and ragged moan made him burn hotter.

She writhed against his mouth, so sexy he feared he would come far too soon. Must savor.

He wouldn’t be satisfied until she’d fallen apart in his arms. Licking... Laving... Addicted.

Hadn’t she once promised to maneuver him to this point? To make him mad with desires he couldn’t control? Where everyone else had failed, she had succeeded. In record time. But soon she would realize her victory came with a cost.

For the rest of the month, Roc intended to glut himself on her. Whatever happened with Erebus, whatever happened with the sacrifice, Roc would have her. To the best of his ability, he would endeavor to forget her origins. For the rest of the month, he would allow pleasure to matter more than duty. He wouldn’t steal her virginity, but he would take her in every other way.

His control frayed when she pricked the tips of her claws into his scalp. A silent command to pleasure her faster. How could he not oblige her? She was his greatest temptation. His temporary queen of passion and ice. A symbol of unbreakable strength and power. And his. Even now, his palms sizzled with stardust.

He struggled to convince himself of the truth...of the lie. He was beginning to suspect the stardust was...real. What if his gravita was a phantom?

“Yes! Right there,” she praised. “Just like that.”

Releasing a sound of animalistic aggression, he tongued on her swollen clit. As she rocked against his face, he gripped the backs of her knees and forced her legs wider. He plunged two fingers into the tight clasp of her feminine sheath.

A broken cry left her, her body bowing. Roc luxuriated in her sweetness. In every new sound and sight. Her breasts were thrust forward, her nipples tight little buds. His heat painted her damp flesh with a rosy undertone.

Tags: Gena Showalter Rise of the Warlords Fantasy
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