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She glared up into that dark gaze and clenched her jaw. It was always a battle with them. A battle to see who would dominate the other. And Odette was determined to win. Her hand slipped into his pants.
She took him in hand. A guttural moan burst out of him and his head tipped back, eyes shut. “O… dette, O…”
She pulled up and down and he let out a roar. He staggered.
Then he was tearing off his clothes. He was shoving her to the wall. He was lifting her legs to his hips, her dress the only thing between them. He was moving against her, his whole body rolling over her, rubbing against her dress, his soot-covered hands dragged over her, leaving trails of gray over the pristine white fabric. Odette dug her nails into his bare shoulders, moans spilling out of her with every rough roll of his body.
He yanked the front of her dress down, revealing her peaked nipples. Rothbart’s gaze was black, his face near feral. His open lust at the sight of her drove her all the more mad. A wetness pooled out of her as that place between her legs blazed with need.
Instead, he slowed, he leaned forward and licked her right nipple. Odette moaned his name. He moved his warm, searching tongue over her left one. Then he sucked it into his mouth, his tongue flicking against her tit, toying with it, titillating it. He released her ever so slowly, leaving her nipple pink and glistening.
More wetness pooled out of Odette. “Rothbart,” she gasped. He was taking too long. The burning was getting unbearable. She was so tender.
He bit her breast, drawing a cry from her lips.
He looked into her face, his expression hard with a torrid passion. “What do you want from me, Odette?”
Shit. He knew exactly what he was doing. Her resolve was slipping.
“Rothbart,” she gasped. “Please.”
His feverishness transformed into a slow, triumphant smile. “I knew I could make you beg.”
He stepped back and dropped her to the ground. She landed on her feet, confused. Her dress hung about her hips, the soot from his hands covering her skin, her breasts heavy, her body pounding with a raging heat. Every part of her was buzzing, and he was just going to… stop?
Hatred simmered in his gaze. He bent to pick up his clothes off the floor. “Get dressed, Odette.”
The hell she would. A ferocity kindled within her. At him. For attempting to humiliate her. For acting like he hadn’t lost control as much as she had, all so he could one up her.
She stepped onto his clothes.
He didn’t glance up at her, but his voice held a low threat. “Get off.”
Instead, she reached under her skirts and jerked her undergarments to her ankles. Her dress followed. She watched as, inevitably, his gaze rose, traveling up over her naked body. His expression flickered with surprise, disbelief.
“You don’t want me, Rothbart? Fine. I’ll get dressed.” She turned and bent over, so that her ass was in his face when she reached for her clothes.
His breaths became strained, and she peered between her legs as she grabbed her dress, noting with satisfaction the hardness between his thighs.
As she started to straighten, his arms came around her waist. And he again had her against the wall before she could even take a breath. Her shoulder blades scraped against the charred wood as he lifted her, shoved into her, filling her, his hardness rubbing against her tenderness. She let out a low groan. This is what she wanted. This was everything she wanted.
He moved, nearly pulling all the way out before shoving into her again, feeling the length of him inside her. She wouldn’t beg. Not again. He shoved into her again and again, hard, slamming into her, dragging her up the wall with each thrust. She rolled with him. He gripped her thighs on the next thrust, ramming so hard into her she cried out. A growl of satisfaction ground out of him.
Hell, he was still keeping score.
Then she was going to win this round. She didn’t care what it took. She latched onto his shoulders and bounced up and down. Faster, harder. Rothbart gasped. His fingers dug into her spine and he stumbled back. She held onto him, her legs on his hips, her arms around his neck and she bounced, faster and faster.
He stumbled even further till his legs hit the edge of the bed and he collapsed backward in a puff of ash, his head thrown back, his mouth open, his eyes shut. She straddled him, pumping up and down his hardness, bouncing on him, and then rubbing, rubbing, sinking him deeper and deeper inside her.
“Damn it all to hell,” he growled. “Damn it. Shit. SHIT!”
He gripped her hips, his spine arching as he released into her. Every part of him was corded and hard as he pulsed inside her. A deep satisfaction filled Odette as victory coursed in her veins so strong the wild burning between her own legs released and she came right after him, tipping her head and roaring her victory to the roof of the burned out cabin.
Chapter 16
Rothbart
Rothbart lay in the bed, holding Odette’s naked body against his. He’d snuffed out the low-lit lantern he’d magicked when they’d first entered the cabin so that she might sleep. Part of him wondered how much she slept in human form. Whenever he visited her and the other swans at the pond, they were always wide awake.
