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Inwardly shaking her head, Wynter met Bowen’s shocked gaze head-on. “You know, there’s a reason berserkers are low in number these days. It’s that you all have a seriously bad habit of judging people by their appearance. It means you don’t always see the danger coming. Which is bad, really. Even fucking rats sense danger coming.”
His face darkened. “I—”
“Need toreallyrethink your idea to use me and my crew as ‘entertainment’ like we’re a fucking joke,” Wynter finished. “That’s all.” With that, she headed back to their spot.
Maxim stood there, fighting a grin. “Quite the dark horses, aren’t you?”
Hattie beamed. “Indeed. And I’ll be damn surprised if the other groups beat our time, because I know we were fast.”
Wondering what she’d see, Wynter let herself look up and meet Cain’s gaze. There was no shock. There waspureheat. Oh, she was gonna get fucked tonight all right.
*
The breath left Wynter’s lungs as her back hit the wall. Then Cain’s mouth was on hers, devouring her as his body caged hers. The man had wasted no time in getting her upstairs to his bedchamber when they arrived at the Keep, and now he was wasting no time in stripping her. Aggressively. Like having anything concealing her skin from him somehow offended him.
Her tee went first, then her bra. He swooped down and latched onto a nipple, suckling hard, while his hands tackled her fly. With a growl, he shoved down her jeans and panties, and she kicked them aside.
Planting his hand either side of her head, he pulled back a little and raked his gaze over her. Slowly. Thoroughly. As if it was his right. “Nice,” he said, his eyes tracing one of the rune tattoos on her abdomen. She had many such tattoos here and there.
“Thanks. Now do me.”
Holding her gaze, he closed his hand around her breast, blatantly proprietary. A darkness rippled behind his eyes … almost as if something else looked out at her for the briefest moment. Which had to be her imagination—
She hissed at the pinch to her nipple, the small pain shooting straight to her clit.
“You liked that,” he sensed. “Good. Because tonight, you’re gonna hurt for me a little.”
She had no idea what that meant.
He effortlessly lifted her and carried her to the four poster bed. The chamber carried a hint of ‘old.’ Tapestries hung on the walls. Candles were scattered here and there. Long, draping curtains were positioned just right.
He lay her on the mattress. “Don’t move.” He shed his clothes. His body … shit, it was a fucking masterpiece. A little too perfect. There was much hard, sleek, perfectly defined muscle to be seen. And Jesus, his tattoos were impressive. There were so many. Symbols, totems, runes, codes, and ancient writings that she didn’t understand.
The perfect V of his hips was anothertickin his ‘hot’ column. As was the thick oh-so long cock that she badly wanted to take for a ride again. It stood loud and proud and rock-hard, tapping his belly.
He knelt between her legs and pushed them wide apart. “Such a pretty pussy you have.” He snaked his hands down her inner thighs and brushed his thumbs over her folds. “Sit up for me.”
Um … okay. She did as he asked, curious.
“Give me your hand. The one that wears my mark.”
She held it out to him, surprised it wasn’t trembling with the anticipation thrumming through her.
He took it and held it up, his eyes tracing the brand. She was about to ask why a snake was threaded through the triangle that sat within the C, but then he spoke.
“I like seeing my mark on you.” He licked along the C, and Wynter nearly jumped out of her fucking skin. She stared at him, her eyes wide. Because that tongue … she felt it licking her slit, warm and wet.
“Let’s get you nice and slick, shall we?” He traced the C again.
Once more, she felt a tongue swipe between her folds. The sensation was so much more intense than a physical touch, as if she was ten times more sensitive than usual. And oh God, it was amazing.
Wynter slapped her free hand on the mattress to support herself as his tongue did wicked, wicked things over and over and over. Honestly, she was so swept away by sensation she could have forgotten he was there if the bastard didn’t begin taunting her with words between licks.
“I could do this anytime, anywhere,” he rumbled. “Whether we were alone or surrounded by people.”
She gasped as he lashed a particular spot—it was like a wet flick to her clit. He licked at the center of the mark over the little triangle, and she almost came off the fucking bed. It was like he’d stabbed his tongue deep inside her—something he did again and again, until she was so desperate to come she’d have done anything he asked.Anything. So it was terribly fortunate that the only thing he told her to do was come. Oh, she could do that.
Her head fell back as her orgasm washed over her, heating her skin and causing her inner muscles to ripple around mere air. Fuck, she needed to be filled. Badly.
