Page 61 of Her Manticore Master
“Like you think you can own me.”
“Own you?” He laughs, low and dangerous. “I don’t want to own you, vixen. I want to break you.”
“Then try,” I hiss, closing the distance, my breasts brushing his chest. “But I’ll make you my bitch first, you filthy beast.”
The words ignite him. He surges forward, pinning me against the cold iron bars, his hands gripping my wrists and slamming them above my head. The metal bites into my back, and I gasp, but it’s not pain—it’s fire, racing through my veins. His bodypresses against mine, hard and unyielding, his cock already straining through his leathers.
“Yield,” he demands, his voice rough, lips grazing my throat.
“Make me,” I gasp, arching into him, daring him to lose control.
Our fury explodes. His mouth crashes onto mine, a brutal clash of teeth and tongue, all hate and hunger. I bite his lip, tasting blood, and he growls, yanking my head back by my hair to deepen the kiss. It’s not love—it’s war, and I’m fighting to win. I rip at his tunic, claws raking his chest, and he tears my silks open, baring my breasts to the damp air. His callused hands palm them roughly, pinching my nipples until I moan into his mouth.
“You want to play dirty, beast?” I pant, shoving him back just enough to spin us, slamming him against the bars now. “Then get on your knees and lick my ass like the filthy animal you are.”
His eyes flash, a mix of shock and raw desire, but he obeys, dropping to his knees with a growl. He yanks my skirts up, hands spreading my cheeks, and his tongue dives in, hot and relentless, circling my tight hole with obscene precision. I gasp, gripping the bars for support, my thighs trembling as he licks and probes, his growls vibrating through me. It’s filthy, degrading, and I love it—love the power of ordering this beast to worship me.
“Fuck, yes,” I moan, grinding back against his face. “That’s it, you dirty beast. Eat me like you mean it.”
He doesn’t hold back, his tongue relentless, one hand slipping between my thighs to stroke my soaked pussy, fingers circling my clit. I’m drowning in sensation, my body betraying me as I push back, chasing the edge. His fingers plunge inside, curling to hit that spot, and I come undone, screaming as my orgasm rips through me, my walls clenching around his fingers, my ass quivering against his tongue.
I collapse against the bars, panting, but I’m not done. I turn, shoving him onto the straw-covered floor, his eyes wild with hunger. “Lie back,” I order, straddling his hips. “I’m going to impale myself on that filthy cock of yours.”
I rip his leathers open, his cock bursting free—thick, veined, and throbbing. I don’t wait, positioning myself above him and sinking down, taking him to the hilt in one brutal thrust. He groans, hands gripping my hips, but I slap them away. “No touching,” I snarl, riding him hard, my nails digging into his chest. “You’re mine to fuck, beast.”
I grind down, rolling my hips, impaling myself again and again, each thrust sending shocks through me. His cock fills me, stretching me, and I revel in the control, in the way his eyes roll back, his jaw clenched as he fights to hold on. “Look at you,” I taunt, leaning forward to bite his nipple, making him buck beneath me. “My dirty beast, all mine to ride.”
But I want more. I climb off, lying back on the straw, my legs spread wide. “On top,” I command, voice low and fierce. “Push my legs over my head. Fuck me as deep as you can.”
He doesn’t hesitate, surging over me, grabbing my thighs and folding me in half, my ankles by my ears. The position leaves me exposed, vulnerable, but I’m still in charge. “Do it,” I hiss. “Fuck me like a piston, beast.”
He thrusts in, deep and brutal, his cock hitting places that make me see stars. He’s relentless, pounding into me with a rhythm that’s all animal, his growls filling the cell. I meet every thrust, my hips bucking, my nails clawing his back as I chase another climax.
“Harder,” I demand, and he obeys, fucking me so deep it hurts in the best way.
My second orgasm hits like a tidal wave, my pussy clenching around him, my scream echoing off the stone as I shatter beneath him.
He’s close—I can feel it in the way his thrusts falter, his breath ragged. “Come for me, beast,” I whisper, locking eyes with him. “Fill me up.”
He roars, his hips slamming into me one last time as he comes, hot and thick, flooding my pussy. His body shakes, collapsing onto me, our sweat-slick skin pressed together, hearts pounding in the silence.
We lie there, tangled in the straw, my silks ruined, his breath hot against my neck. The cell is quiet except for our ragged gasps and the distant creak of the prison.
“I’ll never bow,” I whisper, the words a reflex, a shield against the dangerous warmth creeping into my chest. “Not even to you.”
He sighs, a low, rough sound, and slaps my ass, the sting sharp and sweet. “I don’t expect you to. Save that hatred for the arena. For now, just lie in my arms.”
27
RONAN
The cell is quiet in the aftermath of our storm. We lie tangled together on the cot, the thin blanket doing little to ward off the chill, but the heat from our bodies is a furnace.
I can still taste the juice of her clit on my lips.
Corrina rests on my chest, her even breathing a soft counterpoint to my arm's possessive weight. This fragile peace, a temporary truce, won't last. Yet, in the pre-dawn stillness, her scent of jasmine, sweat, and sex fills my senses, and I don't care.
Her heartbeatagainst my ribs is a steady rhythm against my chaotic mind. We've claimed each other's bodies, but she remains a beautiful, infuriating fortress of silk and sarcasm. I need to know the person I'm risking everything for.
