Page 93 of Master of Storms
“I’ve dreamed of this moment for years,” he said, tugging at the laces on her leather breeches. “I want to be inside you, Solveig. I want to feel you clench around me. I’m going to fuck you so hard I leave bruises.”
Desire jolted through her at the words. But she bit his shoulder. “This doesn’t seem like submission to me.”
“Are you complaining?”
Hard fingers drove inside her, finding slick purchase as his thumb narrowed in on her clit.
Solveig bit her lip and shook her head. Their eyes met, and it was all she could do not to moan.
Both at the situation, and the sensation.
Goddess, how does he undo me so well?
Marduk smiled dangerously, and then he was working his fingers inside her, first one and then two. “You’re so wet.”
Control. Control. She needed a moment.
She needed a decade or more to come to terms with this.
“Not here,” she whispered, because he had to stop touching her long enough for her to be able to think.
Marduk nipped at her mouth. “Fine. I want you in a bed anyway.”
Withdrawing his fingers, he licked her wetness from them.
And then he turned and strode toward their rooms, carrying her the whole way.
16
“Put me down,” Solveig insisted, the second they were inside their chambers.
He let her slide down his body until her feet touched the floor.
They stared at each other a little breathlessly, until he captured her face in his hands and lowered his mouth to hers.
Marduk kissed the way he did everything in life.
Intensely. As if it was a challenge to be conquered, a race to be won. And she could barely breathe again.
She shoved at him, pushing him back against the door.
And then she brushed the backs of her knuckles down his shirt.
“What do you want of me? This?” Marduk gave her a slow, heated smile, one that melted her insides. And then he went to his knees in front of her, his eyes gleaming like newly minted gold coins. “Do you want my surrender, Solveig? Because if you want me on my knees, you have it. And if you want me to beg, then maybe I will.” His lips quirked. “Or maybe I won’t. I guess that is a question that needs answering.”
To beg. Her eyelids lowered as she slid a hand through his hair. Fuck, he looked beautiful like this, on his knees.
"Part your thighs," he purred, sliding his hands up the inside of her knees.
"You’re evil," she breathed.
But she did as told, because her willpower was weak.
She wanted that golden head between her thighs. She wanted the promise of his tongue—that clever, teasing tongue—on her wet flesh.
But as he nuzzled into the vee of her thighs, breathing her in, she realized exactly what he was doing. Taking control. Distracting her. Doing exactly as he pleased.
And that wouldn’t do.
