War Bride (Battle Born #7)(12)
His long fingers pushed into her hair, which pressed his palm against the side of her face. Then he used his thumb to tilt her head back and angle her face toward him. “The only reason you need to know my name is so you can scream it when you come.” He leaned in and brushed his lips over hers. “Are you ready to come for me?”
She shook her head, which inadvertently rubbed her lips against his. Heat cascaded through her body, making her core ache. This was not good. “I… You said you’d tell me about your lovers.”
He released her head and picked up another morsel, feeding it to her as he said, “I suspect there have been fewer than you’ve supposed.”
She licked her lips and paused to clear her mouth. Was talking about his sex life any better than talking about hers? “Maybe your kiss led me to believe you’ve never been with a woman before.” She heard the provocation and froze. What in creation had made her say that?
He paused with the next bite halfway to her mouth. “If you challenge me, Skyla, I will respond.”
He was right. Challenging him was a bad idea unless she wanted to find herself flat on her back with him on top of her. “I’m sorry, sir. I have a strange sense of humor.”
“You weren’t trying to make me laugh. You were trying to make me kiss you.” He set down the bite then returned the tray to the nightstand. “I thought you needed time to accept our arrangement. Would you rather I take complete control? Will it be easier for you if I’m entirely to blame for everything that happens?”
“This isn’t about blame.” She reached past his shoulder and snatched the decanter off the tray, but he took it from her before she could raise it to her mouth.
“You drink from my lips or not at all,” he reminded.
She wanted the wine, but she wanted his mouth even more. She knew they’d be lovers, so what was the point in postponing the inevitable?
You know nothing about this man. He could be a coldblooded murderer for all you know. Her inner voice was sharp and insistent.
“Do you still want the wine?” His tone was even more challenging than hers had been.
She nodded.
“Then say it.”
“May I please have some wine—sir?”
He took a swig off the decanter then pulled her toward him, his fingers tangled in the back of her hair. His mouth covered hers, forming a snug seal and she instinctively closed her eyes. He released the liquid in a slow drizzle and the spicy-fresh taste of blood wine rolled across her tongue. She swallowed twice then tried to push him away. His fingers tightened in her hair, and then his twisting motion made her open her eyes. He set the decanter on the nightstand, freeing his hand so he could touch her.
His gaze locked with hers, the blue rings in his eyes just beginning to glow. “All you have to do is surrender and everything changes.” He touched his fingertip to her temple then slid the featherlight touch down along her jaw. “I’ll adore you.” His other fingers joined the first as he descended along her neck. “Spoil you. Focus completely on your pleasure.” He slipped his hand inside her robe and brushed the upper curve of her breast. “All you have to do is surrender.”
Not allowing her time to reply, he returned his mouth to hers. His lips caressed for a moment then settled against hers, warm, firm, and insistent. The hand in her hair released, his fingers splaying against the back of her head. Like his words, his kiss was insidious, seductive. Rather than forcing his will on her, he beckoned with slow, tempting sensations.
His tongue teased the seam of her lips. “Open, Sky. Your master needs you.”
When she didn’t immediately obey, he eased his hand lower and cupped her breast. Her breath escaped in a stilted sigh and his tongue eased between her lips. His taste crept across her tongue and heat cascaded through her body, pooling between her thighs. How was she supposed to resist him when her own physiology was working against her? She literally ached for the fullness of his body inside hers.
He pivoted to the side and lowered her back to the bed. She raised her hands to his chest, but couldn’t quite summon the will to push him away. Drunk on his kiss and breathless besides, she only moaned as he grew more aggressive.
One of his arms slipped under her neck while he loosened the belt with his other hand. Soon the robe framed her body rather than concealing it. He slowly separated their mouths and stared into her eyes. The rings in his eyes glowed with blue fire and stark hunger sharpened his expression. His hand moved from her neck to her shoulders to her breasts. All the while his gaze bore into hers, daring her to object, to struggle or deny him.
She felt paralyzed, spellbound. Had there been something in the wine or was she truly this weak? She would not just lie here and let him have his way. Her pride alone required that she fight. She pushed against his chest and twisted in a futile attempt to avoid his roaming hand. He covered her breast, squeezing firmly, and the pressure between her legs pulsed.
“You need this as much as I do. Why resist your own nature?” There was no mockery in his words, just calm assurance and curiosity.
With a frustrated cry, she closed her eyes, thinking to shut him out. But his image followed her into the darkness, speeding the scene toward its inevitable conclusion. In her mind, he was on top of her, inside her, as he moved with strong, deep strokes.
He caught one of her nipples with his mouth, drawing on the sensitive peak. She arched helplessly, eyes flying open. Her imagination was more evocative than reality. Apparently, there was no escape from his sensual attack.