Page 73 of Elite Metal: Warriors

Whack.

He didn’t wait. Didn’t prepare her. Gave her no warning. It was as though once he had her where he wanted her, he simply could hold off no longer and finally took what he’d been aching to take.

She flinched and yowled, but it was a yowl of delight.

The heat of it, his palm on her ass, the power of it, the delicious snarl of pleasurable pain, swamped her.

But mostly, his attention. His touch. His domination.

Another smack fell, and another. And another. Her ass heated, her ardor rose. It bubbled and churned and sizzled though her veins. She released her hold on logic. Released her hold on the need to control the world. She handed it all over to him and just felt. It was fan-fucking-tastic.

She knew there were tears in her eyes. She knew she was sobbing uncontrollably. She knew arousal was dribbling down her thighs and dampening his pants.

She knew the fever was upon her.

“Please,” she panted, when he stopped for a moment, to rest his hand, to caress her burning flesh. “Please fuck me.”

He stilled. Every muscle clenched. His cock surged. “Fuck you?” He drew his fingers along her slit, teasing, tantalizing, making her tremble.

“Yes. Please.” He dipped in and nudged her clit, that tight, swollen nub. Circled it. Sensation, splendor spiraled out. Pleasure took her.

But ah, that tiny crisis was nothing, nothing to the next, when he found her entrance and slammed his fingers in. He levered her ass higher and braced her with one hand while he jack-hammered in and out of her with the other. Wild, incessant, manic. He worked her and worked her and she came and came. He searched for and found a spot hidden deep, one where all her nerves conjoined, where the world began and ended, where she began and ended.

And he ended her.

And began her again.

It was magnificent. Splendid. Beyond any experience she’d ever known.

She lost herself in that endless moment. That juncture of time and space and everything. She lost herself utterly. And found herself again, in him.

When he slowed, gentled, brought her back to the world, she looked up at him with her eyes filled with tears, filled with submission, filled with gratitude.

He stroked her again. Tenderly. Then he pulled out and splayed his wet hand on her ass, cooling her.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She nodded. Sobbed. Sniffed.

“You did well.” She didn’t know why his praise thrilled her as it did. She couldn’t hold back her smile. He tried to hold his back, but had to fake a fierce frown to do so. And then he grumbled, “Now, stop calling me George.”

* * *

Benedict stared at Michelle, her tear-streaked cheeks, the flush lighting her face, the glow in her eyes. He shook with hunger. Shook with it. A howling, scorching, wailing, blistering need.

He could barely contain himself, but he wanted, needed to make sure Michelle had weathered his brutality before he issued more. Before he loosed the leash and allowed his savage nature full rein.

And God. She had. She’d taken all he’d had to give, and reveled in it.

“Are you…” The words caught in his throat. He tenderly tucked a skein of her hair behind her delicate shell-like ear. “Are you ready for more?”

He loved that her lips quirked. Loved the delight and anticipation on her features. “Yes, Sir.”

Oh. Holy. Fucking. God.

She was perfect. Perfect. Exquisite. Divine.

He took her by the hair and yanked her up, standing in a rush. Then he bent her over the table and kicked her legs far apart.