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“Look at you,” he said, awed. He stared down at her flushed, writhing form. “In the throes for your male.”

Your male. The words reverberated in his head, reminding him of her earlier taunt. She was his gravita, but he wasn’t her consort.

The scales couldn’t be balanced until she viewed him as her man.

And then? What purpose would balanced scales truly serve, if he killed her as planned?

Maybe...maybe there was another way?

18

Taliyah peered up at the warrior who’d played her body to a fever pitch—twice! Thrice? She’d lost count. He looked on edge. Angry and frustrated and seething with lust. Teasing him had thrilled her, but this intensity thrilled her more.

Roc was done playing.

With a snarl, he dragged a stiff tongue along the center of her sex. He massaged her clit with the tip. She... This...

What is he doing to me?

She undulated beneath his heady assault, wild for him. Despite the other climaxes, she ached beyond reason as he drove her need higher. One sensation blended into another, her body a live wire, her cells aflame.

It wasn’t fair! Roc had pinned her wings, caging her harpy-strength, making her feel as weak as a mortal. Horrifyingly vulnerable again. He’d ratcheted up her sexual hunger and toyed with her emotions. Twice, he’d called her Taya. An endearment. A personal endearment. One she adored.

How was she supposed to feel about that? How was she supposed to react? Part of her wanted to push him away. Part of her wanted only to tug him closer. All of her just...wanted.

If other Generals could say no...

I can. “Unfasten the chains, Roc. Let me touch you.” To feel his strength beneath her palms, to torment his body as he’d tormented hers, she would...she... Ah! His merciless tongue-lashing persisted, razing more and more of her hard-won control.

Oh. Oh! Too good. He flicked, rubbed and lapped, firm and unyielding. Perfect. Too much! But she only wanted more. If she could just make him come, the game would end and calm would return, and, and, and... Thoughts muddled, another climax barreling through her hard and fast. World-rocking. But Roc still didn’t stop.

He was a man of his word and kept going. And going and going. She soared and she crashed, soared and crashed, again and again and again, but she never begged, and she never told him what he’d wanted to know...whatever he’d wanted to know. Somewhere between the fingering and the feasting, she’d forgotten his demands.

“Roc... Roc,” she chanted, unable to say anything else. She existed in a daze of pleasure, fire and desperate need, swinging from one extreme to the other.

No man had ever focused so fully on her body.

Licking and fingering her in conjunction, he drove her to another climax so powerful, she nearly screamed the palace down.

“Tell me how much you want me,” he demanded when she quieted.

“Only want...more orgasms,” she slurred. She wouldn’t beg. She wouldn’t...

“Tell me something.” He wrenched upright, glaring and panting, the brutality of his nature undeniable. Harsh lines etched each of his features. Veins bulged, and muscles flexed. His broad chest appeared packed with bricks, and his tattoos were...not moving, she realized.

That seemed like an important development, something she should consider. Later. He required some kind of information? “Hot off the press. I’m going to touch you, too, Roc.” It was a matter of necessity. “Free me so I can.” She tugged at the chains. “Free me now.”

“Yes. Can’t deny you. Will free you. You’ll give me what I want.” He snarled the words, and she wasn’t sure if he’d threatened her or warned her. He might not know. He was a man on the verge of losing control. A warrior gripped by excruciating pain and primal aggression.

No matter how many times she’d reached her peak, he’d denied himself an orgasm. “I’ll give you what you need.” What they both needed.

In a frenzy, he yanked the metal binding from her wrists. She wrapped her arms around him, holding on as tightly as her shaky limbs allowed. With another yank, he freed her ankles.

Taliyah slung a leg over his lap and rose above him, straddling his thighs. A mere heartbeat separated her core from his huge erection, and they both froze, not daring to breathe.

“Do it,” he said, his voice hoarse from exertion. “Make me come.”

“Yes.” She raked her nails over his chest and kneaded muscles as hard as stone, learning how he liked being handled. The answer delighted her. Roughly. She rolled her hips, the action unstoppable.

The tendons in his neck distended. “Yes, Taya! Just like that.”

The sight of him... Frothing passion barely banked. Like her, he had no modesty. He unabashedly enjoyed her and their actions.

With the next arch, he trapped her nape in a tight grip, locks of her hair threaded through his fingers. “Stop.”

She obeyed. Their eyes met, hers caught in a gossamer web somehow stronger than the weapon she wielded.


Tags: Gena Showalter Rise of the Warlords Fantasy