As if beckoned by the memory, I felt his cock stir against my hip, and I sucked in a breath at the sensation. He’d grown hard, just from having me pressed against him?
Of course! He is a typical male, after all!
But the way he was staring down at me, the way he was pinning my hands so easily above my head…
I squirmed beneath him, and he growled.
“Cease, wildcat.”
“My name is Rowena,” I spat.
His dark gaze softened and he bent closer, moving his lips toward my ear. His tusk scraped lightly—so lightly—against my jaw, causing me to shiver.
“And mine is Vrogul,” he murmured, his breath teasing the sensitive parts of my ear. “Ye have yet to use it,Rowena.”
This time, my shiver was more of a shudder, and I felt something begin to throb between my thighs.
I pressed my legs together, hating my body’s response to his nearness, and prayed he couldn’t guess. When a rumbling sound came from his chest and he shifted against me, his cock settling over my sensitive core, I guessed my prayers were being ignored.
“Say it, Rowena.”
Say what? Oh, his name. My chin rose, daring him to do his worst.
“Or what? You will rape me? Use me? Break me?”
I saw the flash of his grin.
“Ye have a poor opinion of me, little one.”
Oh God, why did my core throb harder at that smile? Beneath my bodice, my nipples hardened in response to the gravelly tone of his mocking, and I had to tamp down another shudder. I squeezed my thighs together even harder, but I wasn’t sure if ‘twas to hide my response, or to prolong it.
Still, I couldn’t allow him to think me beaten. “How could I not? Your desire is obvious.”
Since his cock was pressed against my skin, I bucked my hips, letting him know what I meant.
He made a show of leaning closer, inhaling against my skin.
“So is yours.”
Oh hell.
I froze, resisting the urge to squeeze my eyes shut in mortification. He couldsmellmy arousal?
Damn him. Damnme.
Suddenly, he straightened, pulling away from me.
“Say it, Rowena. My name.”
It seemed easier to give in.
“Vrogul,” I whispered.
His grin flashed, and he released my wrists.
“I’m no’ going to fook ye, Rowena. No’ until ye beg me.”
As if that would happen. What threats and tortures would he use? What deprivations would be worse than begging his touch?
