Mastered by the Zandians (Zandian Brides 3)

Domm sits down on a hovering seat of some kind and suddenly tugs me to him so I’m between his parted thighs, so close to his body that we’re nearly touching.

“So no being has ever made you cry out in pleasure?” he whispers, his voice low and teasing.

Wordless, I shake my head.

“Or taken you to task by spanking your delectable ass?”

I flush so hard I can feel the red. “I don’t want you to do that part.”

“Ah, but I’m so looking forward to it,” he murmurs, and puts both hands on my waist, holding, firm.

“As am I.” Lanz comes up behind me. Puts one hand on my neck, the other on my shoulder, the strong one. His fingers splay out across my throat, holding softly, but I feel the power behind his touch.

“Your pulse is rapid,” he whispers, his lips barely brushing my ear. “Why is that, do you suppose?”

By way of reply, I make a sort of a whimper. A breathy little sound. It’s like not

hing I’ve ever uttered before. Of course, I’ve never felt like this in my entire life.

“I…” My eyelids flutter, and then I gasp, because Domm’s hands are on my breasts, squeezing my nipples, and the sensation is so glorious that I can’t speak.

“Maybe it’s because I’m doing this?” He pinches my nipple now, harder than before, and the bite of pain has me on my toes, almost trying to get away. But then he slides his hand up under my loose-flowing smock and cups my breast, bare skin on skin, teasing that same nipple with his fingertips. It’s so delicate and teasing, ticklish in a way that makes me want more, that I don’t even realize that I’m saying, “Yes, yes, please,” until the words are out.

“Ah, she says please,” Domm says, and pinches me again. “So sweet.”

Lanz slides one hand up my thigh. “As we knew she would,” he says. “Spread, Mirelle.” He taps my inner thigh with his palm, not a spank, but a firm motion full of domination.

When I don’t do it immediately, he does it again, harder. “Mirelle.” His voice is firm. “You are to obey my commands, is that clear?”

“I think she’s overwhelmed,” says Domm. He slides his other hand under my smock and plays with both of my breasts, pinching and stroking in turn, the mixture of sensations making my whole body light up with sensation. “But of course, it’s still important that she please us.”

It’s infuriating to be spoken about like this, and the warrior in me starts planning my moves to break free, but my body has no interest in fighting. No, shamefully, part of me likes this. Loves it.

“Perhaps she needs a little taste of what happens when she does not comply,” suggests Lanz.

“Indeed.” Domm moves fast. One second I’m cuffed with his hands under my smock; the next, he’s unlocked me and stripped me of the garment, so I stand before them in just a pair of panties, my hands free.

Lanz puts his mouth to my ear. “Next we’ll take off these pretty panties so we can see your ass before we smack it.”

I immediately raise my hands to cover my breasts, even though I liked the way Domm touched them, then reach one back to cover my buttocks.

“No.” Domm takes my hands in his, interlaces our fingers. “Don’t hide from us. You’re completely lovely. Let us see.”

And although it’s a command, or could easily be one—they have all the power, he’s not forcing me. He’s waiting. Asking.

I look at his face, and the color of his eyes deepens into a richer purple. His horns are turgid, and I sense this has something to do with his arousal. The expression on his face—one of wonder, approval, and a gentleness that is at odds with his fierce physique—disarms me.

“You’re lovely,” I blurt out, then flush. But the look in his eye makes me glad I said it, because a softer expression appears on his hard features.

He smiles. “I’ve not been called that before, I admit. But I do like it. Your approval.”

He squeezes my hands. “Will you let us admire you?”

I bite my lip and nod, and slowly lower my hands, my face hot.

“Veck, human, you’re the most delectable creature in the universe,” swears Domm. There’s a hard ridge in his pants and I suck in my breath, because that is a very large appendage. And Lanz’ is even larger, if possible. I can see the outline through the fabric and the way their bodies strain at the cloth tells me that they want me. Badly.

“And if you take your punishment well, we will reward you,” says Lanz. “Do you not agree that you have some misdeeds for which you need to atone?” He raises a brow.