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When it was untied, she parted the panel in the front, revealing her breasts.
“More.”
Another command that ran to the very core of her. She shrugged the dress off her shoulders, letting the fabric pool at her waist.
“Good.” He loosened the grip in her hair, just a little. “Now…apologize to me for your betrayal.” When she punched him in the thigh as hard as she could, he chuckled. “Very well.” He freed himself from his pants. She was in awe of the sight of him—she always was. The sheer girth of him. She wasn’t allowed to admire him for long, however, before he pulled roughly on her hair.
When she gasped, it wasn’t just air that filled her.
Mordred wasted no time in procuring his apology.
He grasped her head tight in his hand and began to pump himself into her, slow but unrelenting. His deep, guttural moan tangled with her own sound of bliss as he worked himself against her tongue.
She pressed her hands to his thighs, desperately trying to control the pace—but he wasn’t having it.
“Good.” He pulled on her hair again, causing her to wail, muffled against him. He pushed himself another half an inch deeper, threatening to gag her on his length. “I plan to make you take it all.”
He had to be kidding.
Had to be.
“Such is how I wish you to make amends,’ he snarled, grasping the back of her head with both hands, pulling her closer to him. “I suggest you relax as best you can.”
Was he really trying to coach her through?—
Her body rejected him, sending her coughing. He pulled away from her, allowing her to breathe. “Wait—” She coughed.
“You can and you will. Relax. Focus.” He ran a thumb along her lower lip. “And breathe before you are unable to do so.” His voice softened briefly, revealing the game for just the moment. “Punch my thigh if you need me to stop.”
She tried to draw her head back as he pulled her forward again. But this time, he didn’t force her mouth open. This was her choice. It was always her choice.
She shot him a withering stare. “I really hate you sometimes.”
He smiled in a devious victory. “Deep breath, firefly.”
For once in her life—for survival reasons only—she did as he told her. She took a deep breath and did her best to focus on suppressing her reflex. And she opened her mouth.
And slowly, but surely, like the inevitable force of nature he was—he proved her right. He slipped farther and farther into her with each pull of her head onto him. It seemed impossible. Wholly impossible. But it might have only been a matter of minutes, breathing between each stroke as she was able before her nose touched his body.
It was the single most erotic moment of her life.
He moaned above her, a broken, almost euphoric sound. “Yes, my firefly—ah—” He relented, letting her breathe, if only for a second, before plunging back in, this time seemingly trying to find a way to bury himself even deeper.
It felt so good.
It had no right to.
But her head was reeling with the sheer bliss of it. She couldn’t make a noise—didn’t dare—but she had never felt anything like it in her life. He kept at it, slowly inching her off before pulling her back to him, again and again, until it was clear he might not be able to handle it anymore.
And this apparently wasn’t the end of his plans for her.
In a blur of a moment, she found herself on her back in the sand of his sparring pit, her dress pulled off and discarded. He was over her, hands grasping her thighs and forcing them apart and her knees to her shoulders.
With a snarl, he rammed himself to the hilt in one stroke.
Her mind went white in ecstasy from that one movement. Already at the brink, the sudden sensation of being filled sent her toes curling and her body spasming as he wasted no time in eking out the rest of his anger on her.
And she couldn’t stop begging him for more.
