The Barbarian's Owned(35)
Rae’s belly turned over twice. Lean back from the safe rock wall into his lap? Sure, she was attached with a line, and he was anchored twice over. But it took a lot of trust.
She consulted her burning arms, which nearly shook from the exertion of holding on. Taking a deep breath, she released the handholds, and though she only dropped back two inches before his hands caught her, she still yelped in terror.
Garr eased her into his lap, and she sat in the cradle of his body, only realizing with her arms were at rest how spent they were. She exhaled, rubbing at her wrists.
“You planning to carry me?” she muttered, embarrassed. Climbing was something she could actually do, and not reaching the ledge on her own bothered her.
“You’ll do it once you’ve rested.” His hands were free because of how he was tethered, and one held onto her waist. It was a secure feeling.
She eased into him, his body a natural cup for her own. “Just so you know, I’m still mad at you.”
He brushed a lock of her wavy hair from her face, behind her ear, and kissed the sweltering skin of her neck. But the brisk wind cooled her, so that soon she was comfortable with his heat so close.
She could also feel him becoming aroused, since she was seated firmly against him. He was stiffening and, in spite of it being him, it embarrassed her. “I told you before. I like your anger. I like your passion.”
She realized they’d been in this position before. Every time Garr grabbed hold of her—in the pool, on the precipice that night he first slept against her, and even now—he always slipped behind her.
And it’s from behind that they take their mates. That was why he liked holding her like this. It was so close to having her in that position on all fours that made her belong to him forever. Probably why, he was getting hard, too.
The fact that just being there on his lap was driving him mad gave Rae a thrill of power. “What are you thinking?” she asked, though she already knew.
“What do you mean?”
A shiver worked up her spine at his words, so close to her ear and so low she could feel the vibrations of his deep voice in his chest. His voice did it for her every time.
“You’re imagining me on all fours, aren’t you?” She realized that bizarre fusion of anger and arousal had only intensified since earlier in the day. She liked torturing him up here in the sky, where he couldn’t do anything about it
He kissed her shoulder and tasted the salt on her body. “Just taking you from behind wouldn’t count.”
“Figured,” she said, shifting, knowing it applied pressure to his hardening cock.
His body stiffened and she knew she’d done it right.
“What you really want,” she teased, “is to have me beneath you. Not on top, but bent for you—putting myself on display and inviting you to enjoy me all at once.” She accented the final word with a purposeful roll of her hips that would more brazenly stimulate him.
He groaned, as though finally understanding her game. “You’re a devil.”
“Do you hate me?” she asked, rolling her hips a second time, undulating in a way that made her feel his full, thick length through their pants.
“I—I couldn’t hate you, it—”
She settled more weight into her shoulders so that, with her core strength, she could control how much pressure and friction she gave his hard-on. “Not even a little?” she cooed, the roll and flick of her hips tormenting him. Remembering how sensitive his markings were, and that he had tiny circles under his ears, she arched her back at a sufficient degree that she could strain and slip her head to the side of his. She could just barely kiss that dark circle below his ear.
His growl was arousal and frustration distilled into one feral sound, and both his paws clamped to her hips to take possession of her movements. “Oh yes. I hate you now. Happy?”
“Thoroughly.” She settled into him, relaxing now that she’d made him feel even a piece of what she did.
But his hands tightened their grip. “I’m not done with you.”
She laughed. “Look at where we are, big guy.” She gestured all around. “We’re done.”
His cavalier chuckle made her stomach tighten—and his hands tapping her otoya made her heart leap. Her pants turned liquid, and so did his—she’d forgotten about that.
Just like that, the fabric parted, so that she no longer wore pants but something more akin to tight, thigh-high stockings. And his merely parted, so that when his hands slid around, between her thighs, he took hold of his erection and slid it from behind, between her thighs, letting it brush her slick core.
“Oh.” She felt him between her thighs, having not realized how wet and ready she’d become while teasing him. Every stroke brushed the soft, mushroomed head against her clitoris, making her tense up. “Garr, isn’t this dangerous?”