Page 33 of Elite Metal: Warriors

“I love to see you squirm,” he said.

Which made her squirm more.

With exquisite skill, he worked her, leaving no spot untouched, no nerve unfried. And through it all, she burned. She was breathless, weeping, dripping when he stopped. Still, she nearly wailed. More, something deep within howled. More.

He kicked her legs farther apart and she sucked in a breath. And then, when she felt the scrape of Velcro around her thighs, she whimpered. Yeah. He had. He had tied her legs apart.

“How are you doing, Roni,” he whispered into her hair. “Are you okay?”

“Y-y-y-yes.” A lie. She wasn’t okay. She was aching.

“Yes, Sir.” A snarl.

“Yes, Sir.” She swallowed the drool in her mouth. Tried to toss her head so she could see, but in this position, it was hopeless. He had her draped over the stool on her belly, with her hands behind her back and her legs tied apart; her breasts were exposed, untouched. Her nipples pebbled. They ached for attention. She wiggled a little. “Please.”

“Can you take more?” This he said as he drew a heinous finger along her slit, dabbing at her throbbing clit.

She sucked in a breath. “Yes. Yes. Please.”

The slap, straight to her core, shocked her. “Yes, Sir. Please, Sir. Come on, Roni. Don’t be difficult.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He rewarded her by sinking his fingers, three of them, deep into her. It was glorious. Delicious. Devine. She nearly came. But he would not allow that. “Ah, ah, ah. Not until I give you permission.”

Holy fuck.

Her body shook.

He wiped his wet fingers on her ass, which was nearly soothing, and then he turned his attention to her breasts. Plucking, pulling, teasing, he drove her higher. At the same time, he toyed with her clit, circling it, scraping it, tugging until she wanted to dissolve.

“Sterling…” she hissed as she felt her orgasm approach.

He stilled. “Did I give you permission to call me that?” A bark. “You call me Master or Sir when we’re like this. Understand?”

“Yes, Master. But…”

“But what?”

“I can’t… I can’t… I can’t take much more.”

In a heartbeat, he retreated. It was cold in his absence. His voice was incongruously warm. “Do you need to take a break?”

“No!”

“Then what can’t you take?”

“The teasing. Please…” She gulped and then added, because she knew she probably should, “Sir.”

His chuckle made her shudder. It was ominous and wicked.

She flinched as something soft touched her clit. She nearly howled when she realized it was his breath.

“You can’t take it?” he said silkily. And then, God help her, he lapped.

His tongue was soft and rough at the same time, warm and sweet. It sent a trickle of delight through her, and horror at the same time.

Because she wasn’t allowed to come. Not until he gave her permission.