Page 55 of Oath of Rebellion

Her eyes fluttered open as he twitched, his head leaning on the back of his hand on the door frame. His breathing was labored and a rush of joy speared through her. She'd brought this great hulking brute to this mindless moment. She paused, rubbing herself as she thought through what this meant.

He was different. She didn't mind kneeling for him. There was a certain rush of power that came to her from doing this.

His green eyes opened, practically glowing in the dim light. "That was–incredible," he panted. "But now it's my turn."

He cradled her head, his hand tangling in her wild, black hair. He lifted her by her hair, and she gasped at the sharp stab of pain as she stumbled to her feet.

It made her core ache. Then he released her, caressing the back of her head and pressing her against the door frame. He buried his head in her neck and sucked on a sensitive spot at the base of her neck.

She gasped and arched her back. "Knox, what are you doing?"

"If you can talk, then I must not be doing it right," he growled out. He picked her up by the ass and tossed her onto the pile of hay by the door.

She bounced, the scent of grass surrounding her before he caged her in between his arms. Hay and dirt flew into her mouth, and she hissed as a rush of liquid need flowed through her veins.

"Oh gods," she murmured. She arched, trying to bring her mouth up to connect with any part of his body.

"No, not gods. Just me. Just Knox." Another flash of vulnerability in his voice left her opening her eyes. She reached up and caressed the scales on the side of his head.

He growled and his hands grabbed her wrists, holding them by her head. "Now, now, don't start that again, or this will lead to more than heavy petting."

She whimpered. "I want more than heavy petting. Please, Knox, I need you."

She turned and bit into his arm. Her hips thrust up as she moaned.

By the gods, he felt amazing. She'd had none of her partners hold her down like this before. She hated the idea of being weak and vulnerable. She felt like that enough in her everyday life.

But this man, this brick house lumberjack with tree trunks for legs, tossed her around like she was nothing. And in his arms, she felt safer than she ever had at the castle.

He held her wrists in a vice like grip that made a tingle run down her spine.

"Oh yes, how I like to see you squirm, feel your body wiggle under mine."

His voice was mesmerizing, and she thrust her hips, flattening her feet on the dirt floor to get more traction.

Chapter 20

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