Page 88 of Warrior's Captive
“No. You’ll just have to make do.”
With a scowl, Vivian rose on her knees. “Now lie down and put your hands over your head.”
Tai’ri smirked, but complied, stretching out next to her on the bed and putting his hands under his head. His biceps flexed, and he fluttered his eyelashes at her. “Now what?”
She straddled his waist. “I’m going to tie up your wrists.”
“Really? How do you think that’s going to work for you?”
Vivian glared at him, but he held out his hands, wrists together. She found her panties and used them like a scrunchie, twisting to secure him properly. “There.”
“You know we only have about an hour before the baby wakes up?”
She slapped his face lightly with the back of her bound hands. “Be quiet. It’s my turn.”
He narrowed his eyes. “So that’s how you plan to play? Careful. I’ll take you up on it.”
“I am not planning. I’m winging it.”
And winging it felt good. Powerful.Her body still throbbed, need prickling her temper. But this was more than her temper, this was a side of her that had slowly been emerging during the training, weeks of learning her own strength and—she surmised—some of Tai’ri’s natural aggression also rubbing off on her.
“Well, you just have fun, dear,” he said in Standard, accent flawless. “Because when you’re done, it’ll be my turn again.”
Vivian quailed a bit, but then remembered who she was playing with and snorted. This was Tai’ri. The man who would cut off his own head before he made her feel unsafe. But . . .
“Do you have any limits? Any boundaries I shouldn’t cross?” Evidently her kittenish little slap only spurred his lust. His eyes glittered, his lip curled up over his incisor.
He gave her a considering look. “I don’t think you’re capable of crossing boundaries. Play all you want,yada’ami.”
Though her wrists were bound, there was enough give for her hands to move above the joint. Vivian stroked his erection and considered the problem of his shirt. His hands were bound, and it seemed counterproductive to release him to take off the shirt. But it had to go.
“There’s a blade strapped to my ankle,” he said. “Don’t cut yourself.”
That little goad ensured she found the blade, clumsily unsheathed it then carefully, remembering her mandatory emergency first aid class in secondary school, she cut open his shirt down the middle.
“Much better,” she murmured, tearing the strips of cloth away from his torso. He flexed his pectoral muscles, showing off the tone and definition.“Barbarian show off.”
“You love my body,” he purred.
She leaned forward, her hair falling over his chest, and licked his nipple, wondering if it was as sensitive as her own.
“I do. And it’s all mine.Enja.”
“Say that again.”
“Mine?” She kissed her way across his chest. “Enja.”
But he was right. As much as she wanted to play, her body and the fact that the baby would wake soon prompted her to abandon the leisurely exploration. They had time.
It was simple enough to unfasten his pants and peel them off, releasing his body. “Hello,” she purred.
She wanted nothing more than to climb on his lap, impale herself, and ride her way to a shattering release. But as much as he had imagined tasting her, she had imagined tasting him.
And payback was a . . . well, payback.
Her lips closed over his erection, though closed was highly inaccurate. Her jaws ached, struggling to accept his width. Tai’ri growled as her tongue played on the tip of his head, his hips surging deeper into her throat.
She choked, used a bit of her own saliva for lubricant, and began to learn her way around her man’s cock. Licking, moving her head up and down as her hand grabbed his base. As she got the hang of it, she moved faster, tasting the salty sweet liquid that rewarded her efforts.
