Page 50 of Warlord's Mate
He left without another word and was gone long enough her body had cooled and she’d silently called him every low down rotten thing she could think of. When he came back what felt like hours later, he surprised her by crossing to where she hung, lowered his head, and sucked one breast, then the other, then alternated between the two until she was ready to come from nothing more than his mouth on her tits. She was biting her lip when he lifted his head to look at her and she knew she wasn’t the only one being affected by his torture. The heat she saw in his gaze told her that much.
He cupped both her breasts and took a step back, and to her utter astonishment, fell to one knee and looked up at her. He was so close to where she needed him she tilted her hips without thinking. He smiled, the tips of those fangs he’d used to bite into her neck shining moments before he grabbed her hips and leaned forward, burying his face between her legs.
“Sweet mother of—” The words were cut off with a groan, her eyes rolling back as his tongue slid against her clit. He sucked it into his mouth, pulling hard on it until she looked down at him. Seeing him there, on his knees eating her pussy like he was born to do it made every nerve in her body clench. She gasped, rolled her hips against his face and bit back a silent scream when he penetrated her with his tongue.
The warlord’s hunger for her was apparent. He pulled her closer, draped one of her legs over his shoulders and tongued her intimate folds until her legs started shaking, her breaths panted out between small squeals and the orgasm she’d been dying for earlier was so close to the surface she broke out into a cold sweat.
Then the fucker pulled away.
Marcy’s eyes snapped open just as he stood up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What have you learned today,e’mahn neok?”
That you are a devious motherfucker.She didn’t say the words out loud, but she wanted to shout them in his face.
He looked please with himself but all it took was a glance down to know he was probably hurting as much as she was. He was rock hard and that massive cock of his was straining against his leather pants.
“Well?”
“I’ve learned you’re as controlling as I thought you were.”
He raised one eyebrow at her. “That is all?”
All I’m willing to say out loud.
Long minutes ticked by as he stood there staring at her before he smiled, turned on his heel, and left. She watched the leather door flap swing, cursing under her breath until long after it had stopped.
The warlord knew all about torture, apparently. And he was either leaving to go jerk one off or had an iron will most men didn’t. As the day wore on, she lost count of how many times he came back. How many times he sucked her breasts, fingered and licked her into a quivering mess—then left just as she was about to come. The last time, she’d screamed, “you fucking asshole,” at his retreating back and could have sworn she heard him laugh.
The sadistic bastard was about to get a lesson of his own. She was tired, hungry and pissed off and the next time he came to her would be the last.
The noise around camp grew before quieting again, the constant flow of traffic outside the hut should have made her nervous but she was too furious to care. So what if anyone looked in and found her hanging there. Most probably thought this sort of thing happened on a nightly basis, anyway.
Her stomach was growling by the time the warlord came back. The small glimpse she’d gotten of the camp outside the doorway showed the sun had set, the camp dark except for the glow of the central fire pit. Marcy gritted her teeth as she glared at him.
He headed to the table where the small bowl of glowing rocks sat. He moved them around, making them glow bright enough to illuminate the room, then turned to face her. “Have you learned your lesson?”
“Go to hell.”
“I guess not.”
He crossed the room and raised an arm, his hand going for her breast when Marcy lifted her leg, planting her knee against his hip to keep him away. “I’m done playing.”
The warlord raised an eyebrow at her. “You don’t like our game?”
“Game?” She scoffed. “Games are fun. This is not.”
He smiled, those fangs shining in the dim light. “Oh, you are wronge’mahn neok.I’ve not had such fun in more rotations of the moons than I can remember.”
“Well, I’m certainly not having fun.”
“You weren’t supposed to. Where is the lesson if it isn’t unpleasant?”
When he came at her again, Marcy raised her leg and got her foot on him this time. She pushed, trying to keep him away and barely budged him an inch.
He laughed and knocked her foot away.
The moment he came at her again, she kicked at him.
What started out as a slow dance of him coming toward her and her pushing him away turned into a battle of wills within minutes. The smile on his face grew as he pushed her thrashing legs away but vanished when her foot caught him between the legs a moment later.