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And he did see.
And he did get it.
Beyond how I even hoped he would.
An understanding he not only grasped, but acted on—when his hands delved back, tangling in my hair, then pulling the strands taut. Hard. Until I shrieked from it—right before clenching my sex tighter around him for it.
Yes.
Please.
Yes.
He yanked more ruthlessly. Another scream escaped, as my head jacked backward. He dug his teeth into the column of my neck. I clawed my nails into the column of his spine.
“Hot…sweet…woman,” he husked against my ear.
I could only whisper two words in return. “My Master.”
He bit into the shell beneath my three pierced studs. “I want to rip you apart.”
Ragged sigh. Grabbing his ass. Forcing him deeper. “Do it.”
His cock expanded. His hips strained. “Going to…fuck you…”
“Yes.”
“Deep…”
“Yes!”
“Hard.”
“Yes, yessssss…”
I was lost.
To his brutal thrusts. To my answering screams. To the gasps replacing them when he shifted his hold to my waist, in order to ram my body harder down on his stalk. My torso lifted, my hair rasping along the floor, as he pounded me like a machine on high gear, a beast beyond control—a prince fucking his concubine.
For those few perfect minutes, it was all I had to be.
His body for the using. His pussy for the conquering. His woman for the possessing. Filled with all the pain—and pleasure—he had to give.
I surrendered to the fantasy, riding the erotic, frenetic wave through every heated lunge of his cock and every filthy Arcadian word he growled, until he shocked me in another sweep of sudden movement. I was on my back again, my legs lifted and wrapped around his waist, as Shiraz loomed directly over me once more. One of his hands smacked down to the floor next to my head. The other he clamped around my jaw again—the front part now, holding my head rigidly in place.
“Show it to me,” he ordered, his teeth barely parting for the words. “You will come, tupulai—and you will show it to me!”
A breath. A shiver. A moment’s worth of wondering how he knew that was all I needed, before abandoning even that—
To give him exactly what he commanded.
To let my body give in and my senses implode.
To let the fire of sweet, hot oblivion sweep in, devouring me. And just letting it, no longer holding back the deep, perfect pulses that torched everything between my legs—before gripping him, milking him, enflaming him—
To give me the same.
His hand slipped away as his entire body clutched, coiled in masculine magnificence, ripping his climax through every striation of his muscles, and finally into his harsh bellow.
