He stilled, then moved slowly to his knees to loosen his pants. He did nothing more than push them down far enough to free his c*ck before lifting her again, this time up to rest on his thighs. “Take you?”
The words were tradition, but she spoke them because she meant them, even more now than when she’d uttered them at the door. “I’m at your mercy.”
“At my mercy.” His voice trembled around the words, and he rubbed his shaft over the slickness of her cunt with a rough groan. “Avani.”
He drove into her.
She closed her eyes and let herself feel every inch of his c*ck as her body struggled to adjust to his size. With her h*ps lifted from the bed the chains had drawn tight, leaving her incapable of so much as squirming. She was at his mercy.
She loved it.
He eased back and thrust into her again with a low, guttural growl. “Made for me.” One hand smoothed up over her stomach and chest. “Open your eyes.”
“Rais.” She forced her eyes open and moaned when she found his dark gaze fixed on her face, his eyes wild. His clenched jaw seemed to be proof that he was still fighting to hold back, and the realization frustrated her. “I trust you. Let go.”
He shook his head. “You don’t know what that means.”
She responded by clenching her inner muscles around him, and Rais groaned and jerked her harder against him. He bowed his head for several panting breaths, then growled again. “You win, little one.” He slammed into her--hard, unyielding.
Then he did it again. And again.
She lost track of his thrusts after that, aware of nothing but the fire that sparked through her with every rough, claiming movement. It was f**king, dirty and raw and everything she’d been prepared so carefully to enjoy.
Nothing had prepared her for how much she’d enjoy it. The pleasure of her body was strong enough, curling tighter with every passing second, promising a bliss that would eclipse her first cl**ax. And even that was nothing compared to the instinctive satisfaction and the way something inside her unfurled to welcome his savage dominance.
Words were impossible, but sound wasn’t. So she whimpered and moaned and did both as much as she could to make up for the fact that she couldn’t touch him. Yet.
He slowed a little, his gaze still fixed on her face. “Tell me why.”
She moaned her frustration as the release that had been hanging just out of reach slipped away, ratcheting up the tension and need inside her to feverish levels. “Why what?”
Now he gave her only quick, very shallow thrusts. “Why you came to me. Why you said yes.”
“I trust... I trust you.” She found his gaze and held it as her breath came in short, desperate pants. “And want you.”
“You weren’t frightened?” He stopped, his c*ck buried to the hilt inside her, and found her cl*t with his thumb. The tiny caress sent sparks to every nerve, and her body began to tremble.
It took two tries to answer his question. “Not of you. Never...never of--by the Goddess, Rais, please!”
He trembled as badly as she, but he didn’t move, just kept stroking her. “Come.”
She didn’t have a choice. The tense heat in her abdomen snapped, flooding her with earth-shattering pleasure. It felt so good she didn’t care that the cuffs dug painfully into her wrists and her arms and shoulders would surely ache later from the strain of writhing against her bindings.
Rais threw his head back with a howl. He gripped her thighs with bruising force and jerked her toward him to meet his frantic thrusts. She came again, harder this time, her entire body taut and her voice rasping in her throat as she let the magic inside her embrace him. Even through the pleasure, she could feel the way they fit together, the way the beast inside him fed on her pleasure and submission.
A rush of power washed over her when he came. She felt him in every cell of her being, the dwindling rage and pain that swept through her without touching her, and the satisfaction he found in the depths of her body and the readiness of her acceptance. Nothing inside him frightened her, even the things that perhaps should have. He was Rais, he was beautiful...and he was hers.
He knelt between her thighs, still deep inside her, his head bowed and eyes closed as he panted. “Avani.”
She shivered and wondered if the aftershocks of pleasure would continue as long as he was inside her. She knew there were words she was supposed to say, things that would ease his mind and assure him she was unharmed. But her breath still came in helpless pants and her training was a distant memory. So she made a soft noise of pleasure and hoped he’d understand.
Rais started as if surprised and watched her face as he pulled away. “Not hurt?”
It was foolish to feel the loss of him so sharply, especially knowing he’d need to take her at least once more. But she hungered for the feel of his skin, for the chance to touch him, and it undercut her reply with a yearning she couldn’t mask. “Not hurt. Just tired.”
His movements were efficient but slow, almost exhausted. He freed her ankles first and then her wrists, leaving the lengths of delicate chain hanging from the bed as he collapsed beside her, half on his side and half on his stomach.
Avani hid a wince as she shifted to her knees, her arms protesting how strongly she’d tugged against her shackles. The discomfort was minimal though, as inconsequential as the soft ache between her legs. She’d been well f**ked, had prodded Rais to take her with force, though he’d been clearly reluctant to do so.
The thought made her smile as she reached for his linen pants, still partly tangled around his body. “Lift your hips,” she whispered, stroking a hand over the strong line of his back. “You’ll be more comfortable without these.”
Rais murmured a protest and reached for her. “Too much trouble. Come here.”
She ignored him and tugged at the pants with both hands until he lifted just enough for her to ease them down his legs. They hit the floor a moment later, and Avani found just enough energy to ease her open gown from her arms. She let it slip from the bed before crawling back up to settle in his arms. “In case you didn’t notice, the years have not made me less stubborn.”
The corner of his mouth ticked up. “You don’t say.”
“Mm-hmm.” She pressed her fingers to his chest, exploring the skin stretched taut over solid muscle with a sleepy curiosity. “Promise me that you’ll let me touch you before you leave. The chains are very arousing, but you’re so beautiful.”
“Touching me now,” he murmured, then rolled to bring her on top of him. He snagged the top edge of the turned-back sheet and pulled it over them.
“Yes, but I want you awake to enjoy it.” Avani turned to rest her cheek against his chest and listened to his heartbeat slow. With the first desperate need sated he’d sleep, probably the first deep sleep he’d had in months.
And when he woke up... One of her teachers had claimed that a warrior’s need
sprung from the balance of nature. That the pain and death he’d caused would haunt him until he’d given pleasure and celebrated life with equal vigor. A priestess was trained to manage the initial rough encounter and taught to revel in what followed, the bliss of a focused man bent on wrenching every bit of ecstasy imaginable from her body.
Rais hadn’t replied, so she lifted her head for long enough to ascertain that he’d fallen asleep. He looked just as severe in rest, the strong features too rugged to relax into anything less intimidating. Avani stroked her finger lightly over his cheek and smiled as affection welled up in her. He might not know the woman she’d become, but she knew him. She wanted him.
And you have him. Avani settled against his chest and closed her eyes, luxuriating in the masculine, strong scent of a warrior and the feel of his magic curling deeper around her. For the next day or two, Rais was hers. And maybe he’d like the woman as much as she liked the warrior.
Chapter Two
His body ached like he’d undertaken a ten-mile march in full gear. But he wasn’t on the field. He was in the Temple, swathed in sensuous satin, and Avani lay draped over him.
No wonder he was smiling.
Rais stretched a little, trying to relieve an impending cramp in his shoulder. “Wake up, little one.”
“Mmm.” She turned her head and nuzzled his chest sleepily, sending a cascade of tousled blonde hair spilling over his neck. “Warm.”
“Indeed.” His c*ck stiffened, and he nudged its length against her hip. “You need something? Wine? Water?”
She slid both hands to his chest and pushed herself upright, ending up with one knee on either side of one of his thighs. That wildly disheveled hair fell around her face as she smiled at him. “I may not be an experienced priestess, but I’m fairly sure fetching food and drink is my job. Would you like anything?”
He shook his head, entranced by her br**sts. He lifted his hands to cup their weight, heavy and firm, and flicked his thumbs over her ni**les. “Maybe in a little while.”
Her eyes fluttered shut and she made a quiet noise of pleasure, arching into his touch. The movement rubbed her cunt against his leg, and he could feel her slowly awakening arousal as she rocked down against him.
She’d come hard before; he’d kept enough of wits about him to make sure of it. But now was his chance to tease her, to take her slowly and watch her pleasure build to a fever pitch. “Can I have you again?”
“Yes.” Her hand dropped and she curled her fingers around his c*ck as she opened her eyes, her smile turning teasing. “Are you going to spank me if I misbehave again? Because it’s very tempting.”
“You like it too much,” he teased back. “Vixen.”
She stroked her hand up the length of his cock, her grip still feather-light, but her expression had turned serious. “That’s why I’m still in gold bands, isn’t it?”
He could guess, but he merely shrugged one shoulder. “Have you asked Celine why?”
“She says my job is to give a warrior what he needs, not give him license to take whatever he wants.”