I kick back, but my foot barely connects. He’s too damn fast. “You’ll pay for this,” I grind out, stomping on his toes.Twice. My bare foot doesn’t appear to faze him through the thick leather of his boot. “I swear you’ll pay.”
“If I pay, I’d better be buying a bride.”
“Argh! You’re impossible!”
Griffin leans in to me, asking gruffly against my cheek, “Where do you belong?”
“What?” My backside smarts. I liked it better when spanking was a metaphor.
Excitement still surges through me, along with a surprising rush of eagerness when Griffin palms my bottom again. His long fingers delve further toward my core, cupping me completely. I stop struggling, craving his next touch more than I crave air. He gently rocks his fingers through my folds, and my forehead drops against the wall. I moan in total surrender, growing wet for him after only a few strokes.
Griffin’s broad front presses against my back. He pushes my hair aside with his face, and then his lips brush the sensitive spot below my ear. I feel his teeth, his tongue, and then his amazing mouth trails lightly over my nape, sending hot little shivers down my spine and arms. He nuzzles and kisses, his breath increasingly ragged against my neck. My blood turns molten. Reckless and ready for anything, I press backward into his arousal and grind my hips.
His free hand slides around my hip to my lower abdomen, holding me tightly as he presses me harder against him. “Where do you belong?” Griffin asks again, his question a gravelly rumble against my neck.
A smile curves my lips. I understand the rules now. I’m ready to play.
I pull on my wrists as hard as I can. Griffin tightens his grip, sending a thrill of danger and excitement through me. Rough and low, he says my name as he lifts his hand from my stomach. Between our bodies, I feel him work his belt free. A moment later, his pants drop, and his metal buckle hits the floor. One-handed, he rips his tunic over his head, leaving it dangling from the arm still holding me against the wall.
His bare torso touches my bare back, the contact scalding. Need burns through me. I lean back into Griffin’s powerful body and rub myself against him. Crisp hair tickles the backs of my thighs. I want to touch him, but Griffin is in complete control. I can only feel, and wait, and crave, and the newness and unpredictability of his rough play drive my desire to Olympian heights.
Griffin’s free hand comes around me again, grazing up my front until his knuckles skim the undersides of my breasts. Lightning sizzles under my skin, streaking straight to where I long for him to fill me. He touches my breasts—cupping, circling, teasing, squeezing—and my head falls back against his chest. I make breathless sounds, panting. He brushes the callused pad of his thumb over one sensitive peak. Back and forth. He does the same to the other, and I press my legs together, my tightening nerves restless for friction. Griffin tugs on my nipple. Need pulses at the apex of my thighs, and my legs start to quiver.
“You’re going to torture me, aren’t you?” I ask.
His voice is an erotic promise in my ear. “You have no idea.”
Griffin’s warm breath whispers over my neck. My wrists are a little sore and my arms are starting to ache, but the dull pain only accentuates the pleasure and exhilaration storming the rest of my body. Heady sensations spiral through me. Desire flares hotter with Griffin’s every touch. I shudder when he rubs his rough palm in a slow circle just below my navel. He’s barely even touched me where I really want him, but the mounting tension between my legs already has me tumbling toward release.
“Griffin.”
“Cat?”
“Touch me.”
“I am touching you.”
Pleasure and frustration dance around each other inside of me, intense, unlikely partners. I flex my fingers. They’re going numb. “Touch me lower. Touch me where I need you.”
His hand slides down. I can feel the heat of his fingers, poised to bring me a shattering orgasm. My sex throbs, each needy beat bringing me closer. I groan, and the husky sound is loud in the room that’s quiet except for our harsh breathing and the popping of the torch.
Griffin’s teeth graze my neck. He nips my shoulder and then growls against my skin, “Where do you belong?”
I squirm when his tongue trails over the spot he just bit. I know what he wants to hear. I don’t give it to him yet. I’m just insane enough to want to prolong this sensual torture. “I belong…here?”
Griffin lifts his face from my neck, his stubble a delicious scrape against my nape. A deep rumble is my only warning before he slaps my ass again like he means it.
I gasp, shooting forward. Something clenches deep down, flooding me with wet heat. Griffin stretches me up to my full height, extending my arms above my head. Bracing his forearm against the wall to help carry my weight, he pulls, and my heels leave the floor.
I make a strangled sound. My arms ache, my ass smarts, andby GodsI’m about to explode!
“Wrong answer.” He cages me, and his thick shaft presses against my backside. He circles my thigh with his hand and then lifts my leg, hooking his free arm under my knee and leaving me spread open and pivoting on the ball of one foot. I don’t worry about falling. I’m too focused on the hot, blunt tip of Griffin’s erection as he lifts me even higher and slides it between my legs. He slowly thrusts, guiding his iron hardness through my slick folds and then right over my most sensitive spot. I forget to breathe.
“Where do you belong?” He thrusts again, the slow friction driving me wild.
“Oh my Gods…” I moan when he spreads me wider.
“Wrong answer.”
