Page 18 of The Warrior's Captive

She took the base of him in her hand, curling her fist around him fiercely, surely it must hurt? But she felt his cock jump in appreciation. His eyes widened a fraction and when she grabbed his balls, carefully balancing them in her palm, his head tipped back. She licked him there first, the skin so soft and almost fragile that she had to hold back the absurd urge to laugh. She sucked one into her mouth. He made a feral noise that encouraged her that whatever she was doing felt good. She made her way to his cock again, licking along the base of him, then all the way down his shaft. She lapped the salty precum from his tip and then she wrapped her hands around both his hard thighs and took him deep again. She sucked him right to the back of her throat, gagging herself this time. She swallowed the urge to choke. It was her natural reaction, but he made that sound again, that feral noise of pleasure, and she realized he liked that.

His hand clamped down on the back of her head and he wasn’t shy about moving. He fucked in and out of her mouth, her nails digging into the skin of his thighs. She took him over and over, swallowing when she felt the urge to gag. She ignored the drool pooling at the corners of her mouth and running down her chin. He’d like that, she thought. She wouldn’t wipe it away.

She used her tongue on him, eager to please, but also because she couldn’t stop herself. She needed more. More of the taste of him. More of those wicked sounds of satisfaction let loose from his throat. The more he moaned and made those noises, the wetter she could feel herself getting. She ran her tongue along the underside of his cockhead, licked him along the slit there, sucked and flicked and took more of him and less and then more of him again as he fucked her deeper, all the way to the back of her throat, over and over.

He pulled out before she was ready for it to be over. Her face was wet with her own saliva and tears. “Where do you want this cock, little wolf? In your mouth? Do you want me to come down your throat? Or do you want it inside that sweet, tight little cunt, fucking you until you’re screaming?”

“I want… I want you inside me.” Fuck, she wanted him more than she had ever wanted anything before. She was feeling things she’d never imagined possible and there was a fire building up in her that somehow only he could extinguish.

His lips curled in a mean, hard grin. “Beg for it, then, little wolf.”

If she’d expected him to be anything less than a bastard about this, she’d been wrong. He’d warned her. She’d wanted to believe there was some kind of softness there. Some kind of humanity. The worst part, the sickest part, the most terrible and humiliating part, was that she still wanted him inside her. She was so empty between her legs, aching so fiercely, that she thought she might die if she begged, and he denied her as part of some twisted game.

“Take off your clothes, Briar May. I’ve decided that you can beg me with your body.”

“H-how do I do that?” she stammered. Too late, she wished she would have said nothing, because that wicked grin only curled up a little higher. He was stupidly beautiful staring down at her. No man should be that cruelly and brutally gorgeous.

“By getting naked and parting your legs. I want you to get on your knees and hold yourself open so I can see how much you want my cock splitting you apart.”

Was it just shock that he was going for? His filthy words worked their way straight to her core and made her tingle. Maddeningly, her fingers were already moving to undo the buttons of her blouse.

“Hades,” she whispered, her tongue so thick that it tripped over the words.

“No.” His hands grasped her blouse and pulledit off. “No, I want my real name on your lips.” There was a split second of indecision, the slightest hesitation. He was trusting her with more than his body and more than his fate. He was going to trust her with his real name. How many people even knew it? Probably none outside his pack, and his pack sounded more like a den of wolves than it did a place of brotherhood. “Castor.”

“Castor,” she repeated, feeling the word leave her lips as if it had been spoken all her life. She was going to ask the significance, but then he suddenly hauled her off her knees and set her down on the bed. She scrambled to her feet, but he was faster. He unclasped her bra and practically tore her skirt down. He stood back and snappedhis fingers right in her face.

“Take off your panties. Let me see how much you desire me.”

As if he didn’t already know. Her cheeks flamed with the knowledge.

He was completely naked, and it was very obvious that he wasn’t the least bit shy about his body. His cock was so hard it stood straight against his hard abs, leaking long, clear strands of precum.

She squirmed out of her panties and got back onto her knees.

“Hold yourself open.”

She didn’t know what he meant. He took her hand and parted her fingers, guiding her hand between her legs. He spread her own hand around her folds and forced them into a V, splitting herself wide. He hadn’t even taken his hand away before he brushed the other over his cockhead, gathering the wetness there and painting it along her lower lip. She couldn’t help but open her mouth. Couldn’t help but squirm and grind against her own fingers and his as she sucked those two hard fingers into her mouth. They were salty against her tongue and almost sweet at the end.

“Beg,” he commanded, his face a harsh picture, eyes boring into her and blazing hot, his fingers still in her mouth.

She did, half choking on him, the sound of her pleading absurd. “Please.” How could he even tell what that word was?

She sucked his fingers harder, rolling her tongue over them, tasting the raw sweetness of him until she was soaking her fingers and his, dripping all over the thick feather duvet on the bed.

“Good little wolf,” he said as he trailed his fingers down her neck, over her collarbone.

She felt a shudder at his words of praise, and he let out a dark chuckle. He traced a path to her breast and circled the nipple standing on end. Of course he wasn’t content just to touch her. He had to pinch her. She gasped and her head tilted back as the pleasure flowed through her. There seemed to be a straight line drawn from her nipple to her core. It was like she’d been lit on fire by a match.

She was still holding herself open for him, but she wasn’t embarrassed. Not even though her entire hand was pretty much soaked with her own juices.

He came back as he pinched her nipple again, fire in his eyes as he bent his head close to her and claimed her mouth. She was ready for him, open to him. Panting and flicking her tongue against his. She challenged him and battled him. His kiss was every bit as hard as him. He grasped her waist and she let him. He laid her back down on the bed and she allowed him to guide her.

He picked up her hand and while he loomed above her, slowly licked and sucked every single finger clean. She couldn’t breathe, it was like he’d cut off her oxygen while she watched him feast on the taste of her. He closed his eyes, making that soft humming noise of pleasure again. And then his eyes opened, and he looked down at her. They burned hot with lust. Desire. He wanted her and she wanted him to take her.

She’d been taught that she should be proud and free. Wolves didn’t own other wolves. A mate stood beside you. But she wanted him to own her in this. She wanted his complete and utter dominance.

He wasn’t a good man. She knew that. He’d stolen her. Kidnapped her. He was impossibly hard, cold, and unfeeling. He wasn’t going to suddenly change into a prince charming with true love’s first kiss. He was still just as gleaming, wicked, and feral. Then again, they weren’t in love. Did true love even exist? Did she want that fairytale crap, or did she want this dark, brutal, inked-up, scarred-up, battle hardened man?

---