The Barbarian's Owned(30)
The gentle seal of her mouth over it, the soft “mmm,” and the both dirty and wanton look she shot him as she glanced up from the spoon brought him to full and instant arousal.
It was a near blasphemous act—a simulation of a type of sex some Ythirian males whispered about, but which was forbidden since it was a female giving pleasure to a male.
Those things were simply not done, since sex was about a male giving pleasure to a woman, or taking it from her—but always with the male in control.
Yet there was Rae, with her mouth that spouted all manner of blasphemy, simulating a type of sex Garr had always spurned as sacrilege—yet now, quite suddenly, he wondered what it would have felt like.
***
The honey was sweet, but sweeter still was the slack-jawed look on Garr’s face. He shook himself out of a stupor, and Rae knew she’d done her job well.
Tracking her gaze down his body, seeing his erection tenting his pants, she knew she’d done it very well. This pleased her.
His hand stroked her cheek. It was coated in flour and had a grainy feel. When he dragged it down her shoulder and over the top of her bust exposed by her bra, the novel texture made her shudder. It was from that touch that she knew what was coming.
And she wanted it.
Suddenly, he was kissing her. His mouth fastened to hers, a hungry growl rippling from his throat.
Her eyes shut. She opened her mouth, letting him in. The long tease of today had been too much and, hell, it was just this once, right? It wasn’t as though she’d agreed to be his lifelong mate.
She could satisfy her body with him, quiet its constant yearnings. Maybe that would make it easier to leave at week’s end.
Garr’s kiss was all heat. He took possession of her lower lip, sucking on it, claiming her mouth and letting out animal sounds of satisfaction.
Those sounds turned her on like nothing else, as though they had a direct line to her body. Each time he growled, a surge of sweet pleasure zinged down her spine.
When he seized her head with his fingers splayed through her hair, deepening his kiss, she let out her own sound, one that surprised her—a moan of wanton bliss that she’d never made before.
He gripped her otoya bra and ripped. The fabric tore and he cast it aside, setting both palms to her breasts. For a moment, he paused and panted against her, ribcage rising and falling.
His arms were all tension, and she knew he was straining not to squeeze and knead, wanting to be gentle with her even as his every masculine instinct demanded he be rough.
Rae, wrists bound overhead, arched her back and pushed her chest into his waiting palms. She’d been patient and teased too long already. She wanted him now.
***
Ythirian females were coy, and subtle, and submissive in bed. This human brazenly arched and pushed her gorgeous chest into his cupped palms. Garr’s blood was on fire and his mind a fog of arousal.
He squeezed and kneaded, the sublime softness of her making him want more. He didn’t even know what that more was—except that he needed it.
***
His hands dropped to her thighs long enough to drag the sarong up, and Rae was suddenly thankful the otoya wasn’t getting in her way. His own pants transformed into liquid and, rather than falling off him, the liquid traveled up her thighs.
It felt glorious, like trickling warm oil along those intimate, sensitive locations of her legs during the heat of passion. They ensnared her hips and waist, and the fibers contracted, dragging her body into his.
Her sarong shortened in places, opening for him—and his otoya reacted by knotting her body close to his, the garments taking part in the act of mating in ways that made it effortless and sudden, going from both being half clothed to his erection gliding between her wet folds in anticipation a heartbeat later.
The feel of him was exquisite—all silky skin and hardness beneath, and a glance down solidified what she’d seen in the shower earlier. He was large, and she also saw his dark markings traveled down his abdomen and up the underside of his shaft.
There was even a dark ring just underneath his phallus’s head. She had the absurd urge to lick and kiss him over all the markings of his body.
But not now. Now, she needed him. Arms bound, she tilted in and begged: “Stop teasing. Put it in me right now, Garr.”
She had him in a state of near frenzy. Without words, but an animal sound of rapture, he pushed into her ready body to the hilt in one long, glorious stroke.
She had to adjust to his size, eyes widening at the sensation of being so thoroughly filled. His groan and hers mixed, and she wished her hands were free to rake her approval down his back.
His pelvis was pushed into her just right, and the otoya snugged her into him, so that their hips were locked together intimately. The faint tightening felt good in its way, securing him to her, but still angled in such a way that he could smoothly draw about halfway out of her before thrusting in.