The Barbarian's Owned(47)

She moaned into the kiss instead, and he rocked his hips just once into her, as though to remind her who was in charge.

You’re in charge now, and I think I like it. Curling her fingers into the sheets, Rae felt the way his thrusts angled into her, the stimulation of his shaft spearing her and his pubic bone giving her clitoris the most delightful friction.

Both so thoroughly scratched her itch, that she could do little but tilt her hips and offer herself to him.

The oral sex had lit him on fire like never before, because his panting rhythm was quick and strong, each of his wanton thrusts accompanied by animal growls. He was like a beast atop her, and made her feel like one too.

She clutched the forearm he’d planted by her head with one hand and turned her head to one side, sinking her teeth into the skin of his wrist.

All she could do was hold on while he drove relentlessly into her and rapidly approached his orgasm.

“Stay,” he ordered. “Stay forever.”

It electrified her. She knew what she had to do. Looking into his eyes, she gave an order of her own: “Stop.”

He’d been near release, and she could see his face fall. Could see the way he fought for control of himself, pushing the animal back into its cage until all that was left in his eyes was concern.

He drew back, and out of her, and Rae despised the near-painful emptiness she felt in his absence, wanting nothing more than for him to fill her again.

But instead of stopping, she blushed at the realization of what she wanted to do. Sitting up, she turned onto her knees, heart pounding in her chest.

The act of turning her back to him and dropping her elbows to the mattress made her feel at once self-conscious and aroused.

It was a supremely submissive posture, her shoulders down and her back end up in the air, and it gave nearly all the control to him.

But Garr had given himself to her, and she wanted to do the same—not as a favor, but because surrendering to him felt right.

Smoothing her hair to one side, she glanced over her shoulder to see him.

He was on his knees behind her, panting, eyes fixed on her with a strange mixture of awe and total want.

“I made you mine,” Rae whispered. “Now make me yours.”

He ran his hands reverently over her body, touching her from her hips and backside, all the way down her spine, rolling his thumbs possessively across her shoulder blades in a way that made her feel both owned and aroused.

He groaned, seeming to savor the angle of her body beneath him, and his hard shaft was brushing rhythmically against her folds, teasing her in ways that made her reach between her thighs, capture his cock in her fingertips, and pull it flush to her sensitive nub. Shutting her eyes, she gyrated against it, savoring the silky feel of him.

“Even when you present like my taliyar,” he breathed, “you are bold.”

“You like it when I’m bold.” She stroked her fingertips on his shaft, intent on pleasuring him in return.

He whispered an elaborate curse that Kaython couldn’t translate. Then his otoya transformed and she felt its liquid wrap her up as it had on the kitchen island and when he’d taken her climbing—the fabric formed a harness of sorts that ensnared her waist and inner thighs, and which also bound her wrists together.

It looped around her chest, seeming to cup and hold her breasts. All the fabric was even silkier than usual.

Not just silky, she realized. When she moved against it, the fabric responded—the cloth at her chest produced a rhythmic contraction that brushed her stiffened nipples.

Another contraction rippled through the fabric and teased the spot where it nestled against her clitoris. The otoya’s movement sent a bolt of pleasure up her spine, but all she could do in her bonds was arch.

“Oh God, what are you doing?”

“Tormenting you as you did me,” he answered.

He’d taken control of her using the otoya, and when the fabric licked at her sensitive body a second time, she arched deeper. In the midst of that arch, the thick head of his cock pressed into her, not quite filling her yet.

“Say it again,” he ordered, teasing her entrance and forcing her to grind back into him and into the rippling fabric that already had her close to orgasm.

“I’m yours,” she whimpered in a voice so wanton it shocked even her.

He thrust and the gentle clap of her backside into the natural cup between his hips felt so sublimely perfect that she shook all over, their bodies meeting as though sculpted for one another.

The otoya’s rippling teases heightened it, as she was filled totally while being licked and stroked all over. “Say it again,” he groaned, voice now more a plea than an order.

“I belong to you.” She pushed into him, urging him on, looking over her shoulder and spotting him from the corner of her eye. “I’m yours, my prime.”