Page 25 of Tamed for Her Pleasure

I tell myself that I am ready, but I’m not. The sudden gush chokes me, and I pull back.

His hands clasp my face, holding me there, forcing me to take. I swallow, my chest heaving as I gulp and cough around the thick invasion. More and more fills my mouth, leaking from my lips, dripping down my chin, and splattering against the rug beneath me, and still he keeps coming.

His low growl sets all the little hairs at the back of my neck rising and a pulse of desire in my core.

Finally, he pulls free, and I gulp some much-needed breath.

My hands drop to my knees. My mouth feels bruised, my throat sore, and my eyes watering, but I have never felt more alive.

His cock jerks between us, taunting me, and the swelling, now more pronounced, draws my gaze.

“Such a good girl,” he says, and my eyes snap to meet his. He bestows me a lazy smirk and swipes his thumb across my chin before pressing it into my mouth.

I suck.

Why does it taste so good? Why do I crave more?

Why is his member still fully hard and bobbing between us?

His eyes seem to burn into me, filled with his desire.

He leans down, and his lips crash down over mine. I groan as our tongues tangle. My fingers are in his soft hair, holding him to me even as he holds me to him. The kiss is aggressive, full of nipping teeth as we vie for dominance, a battle I am willing to lose if only he would touch me how I need.

The kiss goes on and on until I am dizzy and feverish with desire.

His lips lift slowly, and I chase them, opening my eyes reluctantly when he draws me away.

We share gusty breaths.

“It is my turn, little girl,” he says darkly. “My turn to do the unwrapping.”

Alfred

My chest heaves as I try to temper the aggression coursing through me. I told myself I could endure, could let her touch me and explore, that it would take the edge off this feral hunger I feel inside.

It has not.

It has merely whetted my appetite for more.

Her scent fills my nose—aroused female. I don’t need to check to know her pussy is weeping for attention when itperfumes the air and clouds my good intentions to go slowly with her, an untried beta.

Now, there is no hope for it—she has roused my beast.

A long time ago, in our distant ancestry, we were descended from shifters. At some point, we separated. Thousands of generations have passed since that time, and while we are outwardly human, we are still driven by instincts that reach back to that distant past.

I am conscious of the potential turn in the weather, that our time here is limited, that change is upon me, and that my well-ordered life and the future I once saw spreading out before me has shifted dramatically since a certain princess crashed into my life.

She is not like the women of my clan. She is not like anyone I know at all. I never thought it might be like this for me, that I might be fucking poleaxed by a foreign lass at that. I never thought much of Hydornian, nor any who do not come from the clans. They are all judgmental, looking down upon us as though we are simple because we live different lives to them.

Now everything has changed.

I swallow hard, feeling my arousal rise ever higher.

She is so tiny before me. I hold out my hand and draw her up to stand. Her size belies her power and skills. I have never seen anything as fucking hot as her teaching Cassandra her place.

Penelope is as fierce as she is tiny. Yet she is still a beta and one untutored in the ways of alphas. Lest I scare her, I must ride a delicate balance between all that I want from her and the many stages one must go through so as not to break the lass in the claiming.

But fuck, the shake of my hand, as I move it to collar her throat, speaks of the great strain it presents.

---