Page 42 of Her Manticore Master
He shoves me against the wall, the cold stone biting into my back as he claims my mouth again, his growl vibrating through me. His kiss is raw, unrefined, all power and no mercy, a beastunleashed. “Is this what you wanted?” he rasps, lips trailing fire down my throat, sucking bruises into my skin. “To provoke me until I eat you alive?”
“No,” I gasp, arching into him. “I want to break you first.”
His eyes blaze, a storm of fury and hunger. “Then let’s see who breaks, vixen.”
He drops to his knees, the movement sudden and predatory, shoving my skirts up to my waist with rough hands. The cold cell air hits my bare skin, and before I can brace myself, he yanks my thighs apart, hooking one leg over his shoulder.
His mouth is on me, hot and relentless, his tongue lashing my clit with brutal precision. He sucks hard, drawing a moan from deep in my throat, while two fingers plunge into my soaked pussy, curling to hit that spot that makes my vision blur.
“Fuck,” I hiss, my hands fisting in his hair, grinding against his face. “Eat me like the dirty beast you are.”
He growls into my core, the vibration sending shocks through me as his tongue flicks and circles, his fingers thrusting with punishing rhythm. I’m drowning in him, my body betraying me as I ride his mouth, chasing the edge. He’s relentless, sucking my clit until my thighs tremble, adding a third finger that stretches me, fucking me deep and hard. “You taste like defiance,” he snarls against my folds, his breath hot. “Let’s see how long it lasts.”
“Longer than you,” I gasp, tugging his hair harder, trying to keep control even as my hips buck. “You’ll be my bitch before I come.”
He laughs, dark and wicked, the sound muffled as he doubles down, his tongue tracing filthy patterns, his fingers relentless. I’m close, so close, but I won’t let him win this easily. I shove him back, his fingers slipping free with a wet sound, his lips glistening with my arousal as he hits the straw-covered floor.
“My turn,” I snarl, straddling his hips, pinning him down with my weight. I rip open his leathers, his hard cock springing free—thick, veined, and already leaking pre-cum. I don’t give him a moment to recover, wrapping my hand around the base and taking him into my mouth, swallowing him deep.
My throat constricts around him as I bob with ruthless intent, sucking hard, my tongue swirling around the head.
He groans, a raw, broken sound, his hips jerking up, but I pin him with my hands, my nails digging into his thighs. “Fuck, Corrina,” he growls, his voice strained. I graze my teeth along his shaft, just enough to make him shudder, and work him faster, hollowing my cheeks, tasting salt and heat. My hand twists at the base, the other cupping his balls, rolling them until they tighten under my touch.
This is a duel, and I’m winning. I suck him harder, deeper, my lips stretching around him as I take him to the hilt, my nose brushing his pelvis. His hands fist in the straw, his breathing ragged, curses spilling from his lips. “You think you can break me like this?” he pants, but his voice cracks, betraying him.
I pull off just long enough to smirk up at him, my lips wet. “I already am, beast.” Then I dive back in, relentless, my tongue flicking the sensitive underside, my hand pumping what my mouth can’t take. He’s close—I can feel the way his cock throbs, the way his hips buck despite his efforts to stay in control.
He breaks first, a guttural roar tearing from his throat as he comes, flooding my mouth with hot, thick spurts. I swallow every drop, milking him through it, my tongue teasing until he’s shuddering beneath me. Only then do I pull back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, triumphant.
But he’s not done. Before I can gloat, he surges up, flipping me onto my back on the straw. His mouth is on me again, licking up the slickness he left behind, his fingers plunging back in, fucking me with renewed ferocity. “You don’t get to win thateasily,” he growls, sucking my clit until I’m writhing, my earlier victory forgotten as he pushes me over the edge. I come hard, a scream ripping from my throat, my walls clenching around his fingers as waves of pleasure crash through me.
We collapse together on the straw, panting, bodies tangled, sweat and arousal slick between us. My silks cling to my skin, and I can taste him on my tongue, feel the ache of my own release. The cell is silent except for our ragged breaths and the distant creak of the prison.
“I hate you,” I whisper, the words a reflex, a shield against the dangerous warmth creeping into my chest.
He chuckles, low and rough. “Good.” His hand lands on my ass with a sharp smack, the sting blooming into heat. “Hate me again tomorrow.”
17
RONAN
Dawn breaks gray and cold, filtering through the barred window to illuminate our tangled forms on the straw-covered floor. Corrina sleeps curled against my side, dark hair spilling across my chest like silk, and the sight of her sends conflicting emotions warring through my gut.
Fury. Regret. A hunger so sharp it takes my breath away.
What the hell was I thinking?
I ease away from her carefully, not wanting to wake her, and settle against the far wall to brood. My body still carries the memory of her touch, the taste of her mouth, the soft sounds she made. No. I won't think about that.
Last night was a moment of weakness, nothing more. A lapse in judgment brought on by too many days of forced proximity and the intoxicating scent of jasmine and danger that surrounds her like armor.
She's Valdris's pet. His favorite toy. Getting involved with her is suicide—for both of us.
But even as I tell myself these things, my eyes drift back to where she sleeps. The way morning light catches the gold in herhair. The peaceful expression that makes her look younger, less guarded.
Beautiful.
The thought slaps me like a blow because it's not about her body, though that's magnificent enough to drive men to madness. It's about the fire in her green eyes, the sharp intelligence she hides behind silk and submission, the stubborn courage that keeps her fighting even when she claims she's given up.
