Page 10 of Tamed for Her Pleasure

I tug impatiently at the buckles, opening the jacket up.

“Don’t.”

The word stops me. My hands are at the fastening of her leather pants, and my lips are against her firm belly that is all lean muscle but which I’m already fantasizing about being plump with child.

I lift my head and meet her gaze. “Don’t what, lass? Speak plainly.” I’ve taken this further than I should have. Her bottom is still in need of discipline, but I’m not a monster. Even if her aroused scent is fogging my senses, I want her mind all in, too.

Her eyes hold mine, and I see so much there: the lust, the need, the sheer desperation.

“Don’t stop,” she finally breathes.

My mind goes alarmingly blank for several seconds before I can assimilate what she just said.

“Please don’t stop,” she repeats.

A growl erupts from my chest—that is all the invitation I need. I thrust the jacket part of her armor over her shoulders until it catches at her wrists. Then, impatient, I roll her onto her belly, release her wrists, and strip the upper half of her armor before securing her wrists again.

“Oh, what?” She tugs as she realizes she has been trapped once again.

“I don’t fucking trust you, lass.” I roll her onto her back. “We do this on my terms, or we do not do it at all.”

She huffs out a little breath, her tits quivering as she breathes unsteadily. I lean forward and squeeze one like an offering to myself before closing my lips over her taut nipple and sucking on it hard.

She arches up, complicit to all I desire. I lift my head and hold her eyes. “On my terms, little girl. All of it, or I’ll have one of my men put you on your horse and escort you to the city gates.”

She clamps her mouth shut. She wants to say something—I know she does—but she holds it back because she wants this more.

My grin is one of victory, but it is not my victory alone; it belongs to both of us. Her boots come off next, and then I unbuckle her leather pants and draw them, along with her panties, down her thighs, off her ankles, then fling them away.Her blush creeps down her cheeks, her throat, and stains the upper swell of her full tits. I don’t linger on that for long. I’ve already been told she has trained rigorously. I’ve seen evidence of it myself. I’m quite certain she could use her knees or feet to cause me serious injury if she chose to. I could counter it, but she doesn’t. No; she lifts her knees slowly and lets her legs fall apart.

“Please.”

I feel like somebody has drugged me as her scent wafts towards me.

I shake my head, reminding myself that she’s a Hydornian princess, and I’m a barbarian king. We both know this is a forbidden taste. This moment that exists between us now is all there will ever be. That knowledge heightens the moment and makes it impossibly more precious. She is forbidden fruit, the taste I should not take, and yet I am weak, for her, for what she offers, for the wet pussy she shamelessly puts on display. I am trapped as surely as her hands are trapped at her lower back, or maybe they are not trapped. Maybe she could get free if she chose to. But she doesn’t because she wants this—all of it.

My growl is one of defeat, as I lower my head until my nose is right up against that wet, slick little pussy and breathe.

“Please, please, please.” Her words repeat over and over in a whisper, a beg, an entreaty. They are filled with desperate need, one that is echoed inside me.

I groan weakly as I press my nose right up against the slick folds and draw the tip all the way to where her engorged clit is poking from the hood. She jolts as my nose brushes over it, and I follow the path with my tongue.

Gods, she tastes good. I get my hands under her ass, holding her open, spreading her, and then I eat her out.

Penelope

The barbarian has stripped me of all my clothing and every single knife. My hands are bound behind my back. The position is very awkward, and for once, there is no obvious way of getting free.

But I don’t want to be free… although it would be nice if I could sink my fingers into his hair and guide his mouth where I need it the most. I twitch and fidget as he lavishes my pussy with his tongue, poking it up inside me and growling lowly as though savoring the taste. After I overheard the two guards leaving the dungeon, I had an inkling that barbarians were not quite the same as regular men might be. But, sweet mercy, I feel like I might die from the pleasure he administers with nothing but his wicked tongue.

My jaw works, and all kinds of nonsense words pour from my lips. My hips jerk. I want his tongue where I need it—on my clit. I’m so close. I don’t think I’ve ever been this close as quickly in my life, and I am greedy for release.

“Oh, please. Just—” I buck my hips. He growls and pins me tighter against the furs.

Furs. I am lying on a bed of furs, as if I needed any further reminding that he is not a civilized male.

How did I end up here? I don’t remember, and I don’t really care. I just want his... “Oh, Goddess!”

He licks all the way up to my clit and then sucks gently upon the little nub. My climax sideswipes me. My whole body turns rigid—my neck arches and I make filthy grunting noises as I attempt to ride his face. It’s not possible. He has me pinnedsecurely, my legs spread lewdly to accommodate his great thick body, and I can only endure. As the climax peters out and I become sensitive, I rouse from the bliss and pitch straight into frustration. He seems intent on swirling his tongue around and around my clit, and I can’t decide if I like it or not. “Don’t. Oh my... no. Goodness. Please stop!”

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