Page 24 of Tamed for Her Pleasure

He doesn’t stop me as I release the straps holding his braids and smooth my fingers through the long, surprisingly soft, locks. Like the rest of him, his hair is part of his uncivilized façade—another aspect of his wild beauty.

Standing on my toes, I unlace the jerkin before tugging to get it off. His grin is broad as he lifts his arms but does nothing else to help me. I mutter under my breath and finally wrestle his jerkin off and toss it to the floor.

My chest is heaving, and only some of that is the effort involved.

I am still seething that Cassandra, the hussy, dared to talk about sucking his cock. She’s lucky I did not stab her with one of my many blades. And as for the other two, talking about how they were favored…they were not. If Alfred had wanted any of them, he would have already claimed them. He did not. But the moment he met me, he knew that I was different.

I rest a hand on his chest, hating how his clanswomen have touched him when he should be mine and only mine. They are in the past now. It should cool my temper that they are not his chosen one. But jealousy has a grip upon me.

I curl my hands into claws and scrape my nails down his chest. He does not react, letting me leave scores in his flesh without a flinch. Leaning forward, I press a kiss over his heart, soothing the hurt before I nip.

He groans. That he likes the sting of my teeth should not surprise me; he is a barbarian, after all.

Next, I slide my palms down over his firm abdominals until I reach the arresting V that disappears under the waist of his pants.

I circle him slowly. He turns his head to watch me move around. I purse my lips as I take in his broad back and the scattering of scars—both large and small—before trailing my fingertips over the firm muscles until I am facing his front again.

His feet are broad and naked against the rug-covered floor. There are a few goosebumps across his flesh despite the heat from the fire that crackles on the other side of the room.

My fingers shake a little as I undo his belt and allow it to drop with a clatter to the floor. His cock bulges against the leather of his pants, and I slide my hand down to cup over the material.

He hisses a sharp breath, and my eyes snap up to meet his. I watch his face as I trail my nails over the length from root to tip and back again. A tic thumps along his jaw. Oh, he likes that very much, although his hands remain at his side, and he does not interfere.

He is content, it would seem, to let me explore.

Buttons secure his pants, and I undo them one at a time. On the third, the material loosens, and the head of his cock springs through the gap and into my waiting hand.

A low, rumbly sound emanates from his chest—his purr. It is a sound of deep contentment, and I like that I am the cause.

Impatient, I tug the last two buttons open and then, gripping his pants at the waist, push them down.

They get stuck on his muscular ass, but I am determined and shove until they hang at his hips, revealing the deep grooves of his thick-waisted abdominals and the full length of his cock.

The man is art—every glorious inch of him.

One large push and his pants pool at his feet.

He kicks one foot and then the other out to stand before me, naked, his feet planted a little wider.

I am aware of his chest moving, but I have eyes only for his cock. I did not have the opportunity to look quite this closely before, but it is daunting in size, and near the base is a very faint swelling—his knot. I curl my fingers around his length and pump slowly. His purr dips to a growl as I cup his balls—they are heavy, potent, and full of his seed. The pre-cum leaks copiously trickling all over my hand. My pussy has grown slick as I handle him, but I suppose one needs additional lubrication when one is equipped with such a lethal weapon.

A telltale sweet clench follows low in my womb as I see the faint swelling near the base. I am under a spell. His spicy scent seems to saturate the air and sends me a little dizzy. Then, because I cannot help myself, I sink to my knees and take the head of his cock into my mouth.

I groan as the taste explodes into my mouth, humming as I swirl my tongue around.

“Gods,” he mutters gruffly. “Fuck! That feels good.”

His words are a balm over my jealousy, soothing my angst. No other lips will ever tend him again—none but mine. I am claiming him, sucking dutifully upon his firm flesh until he can see me and only me.

His fingers spear my hair. The rough tug as he loses himself in what I do is like wildfire tearing through me, igniting my arousal, making my pussy slick with need, and my breasts ache for his touch.

I crave him, but I also need this: to be his, to be claimed as his mate in his barbarian chamber, to feel the woven rug beneath my knees, feel the fire blazing behind me. I will make him every bit mine as he makes me his.

“I am going to come,” he growls. “There is going to be a lot, and you’re going to swallow every drop like a good girl, aren’t you?”

My belly takes a slow tumble, and I double down, working my fingers up and down the length as I suck, lick, and lap, trying to stuff as much of it as possible into my mouth.

His fingers tighten on my hair. He seems to grow in my mouth. He is close.

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