Page 49 of The Warlord

“Close. So close.” His words were whispered. Harsh. Desperate.

His thrusts faltered before he barked a harsh “fuck!”then came—hard—into the back of my throat. I swallowed him down, savoring the flavor that hit my tongue.

“Are you coming on your fingers, Sloane?” he asked in a strained voice, still thrusting, still coming. “I want to know you’re getting off on this, too.”

My pace increased, and only two strokes later, I screamed my release around his cock. Pleasure rolled through me until I was deaf to everything except my moans. I rode the waves of euphoria, never wanting to come back down.

Grayson had pulled out and was kneeling in front of me, kissing my just-fucked mouth. This time he savored the press of our lips. “Baby, you’re fucking beautiful when you come. And as much as I want to push you onto your back and attack that sweet cunt of yours, we have to go.” Regret made his voice tight. “Finnan’s waiting.”

The reminder that I had to be paraded around at Finnan’s pleasure was like having a bucket of cold water over my head. I stood, readjusting my panties and smoothing down the skirts of my dress. In the kitchen, I grabbed my clutch, which stowed a tube of lipstick, clear lip gloss, and a compact.

I took out the lipstick and checked my appearance in the hallway mirror. My lipstick—despite the rough treatment—had maintained its integrity. I slicked on some lip gloss over the color already there and turned.

Grayson was standing by the closed door, watching me. His eyes drank in all of me, and I could’ve sworn I felt his gaze like a physical caress. Heat flashed through my body in response—at the memory of his touch. When I approached the door, he drew me to a stop, running his thumb down my bottom lip.

“Your lips wrapped around my cock. It needs to happen again. Nod if you agree with me.”

I nodded. God, help me, I nodded because I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay away from this man.

“Good.” He opened the door and stepped out into the hall. After a moment, he waved me forward. I followed him into the already waiting elevator, feeling the sexual tension between us like a tangible, erotic heat. The muscle in his jaw bulged as if he, too, could feel it. As soon as the doors slid shut, he took me by the wrist and turned me, pressing me against the wall of the elevator car.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he told me in a strained voice.

The heat of his body felt too hot against my already heated skin. He pinned my arms above my head and rolled his hips against mine. He was hard again.

“Tonight is going to be torture.” He growled, nipping my bottom lip—urging me to open for him. He swept his tongue into my mouth. “Not being able to touch you will drive me to the edge of insanity.” His voice was rasping and low, lighting up my nerve endings with its timbre. It sounded like sex—if the act of sex could be audible. “But as you sit there for Finnan, I want you to remember the taste of my cum on your tongue. I want you wet and ready for my hard cock to slide between your thighs. And know that every time I look at you from across the table, I’ll be thinking about you naked. Thinking about spreading you out, tasting your sweet cunt, and making you scream.”

I mewled—the sound high and keening. The pressure of his hips against mine, the control of my arms made my whole body light up with anticipation. With pleasure. With desire.

He slid his hand under the skirt of my dress, gliding it up my thigh until he reached the silk panel of my panties. With his long index finger, he stroked the seam of my pussy.

“I want to be in here so badly. I want to tear these from your hips and sink my rock, hard cock inside you. I want to take you bare because I want to mark you as mine.” He pressed a kiss to the side of my mouth and said, “Tell me I can have you bare.”

Wordlessly, I nodded, savoring the sweet burn of being captured and held by this man. I rubbed my pussy against his fingers, already picturing everything he described, driving my desire higher and higher.

He pulled his hand out, then brought his fingers to his nose and inhaled.

Heat rushed through me as I watched his eyes shutter closed at my scent.

“Decadent.”

His smile was fierce before he released my arms as abruptly as he’d pinned them and stepped away. I was left panting with need, blinking when the elevator doors sprung open. Swallowing down on my lust, I stared at the guards waiting on the ground floor. With his hand on the small of my back, Grayson led me toward the car. Torin had the rear door open already, waiting at ease beside it.

He nodded in deference. “Lass,” he said softly as I passed.

“Hi.” I slid inside the dark leather interior. Grayson motioned for me to move over, then shut the door behind him. Torin left the parking garage, whisking us out of the artificial light and into the dark night. When we emerged from the underground parking, rain was pattering gently against the windshield and windows.

“Where are we going for dinner?” I asked into the quiet car.

“A place called The Alehouse. It’s not too far from where we went to lunch.”

I nodded and stared out the window, watching the harbor slide past the glass—blurred into obscurity in the rain. In the reflection, I caught Grayson staring at me with an almost starved look.

Then, I remembered the words he had said to me in the elevator.

Tonight is going to be torture. Not being able to touch you will drive me to the edge of insanity. But as you sit there for Finnan, I want you to remember the taste of my cum on your tongue. I want you wet and ready for my hard cock to slide between your thighs. And know that every time I look at you from across the table, I’ll be thinking about you naked. Thinking about spreading you out, tasting your sweet cunt and making you scream.

Oh, God.

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