Page 99 of Elite Metal: Warriors

It was foolish to fuck him.

It was stupid to succumb to his allure.

But if that was the case, she was both foolish and stupid.

Because she was going to fuck this man.

She was going to taste that passion.

And she was going to get her answers as well.

Although, to be honest, her determination to wrest from him the answers she required had suddenly taken the back seat to a rampaging desire.

And that, in itself, was as dangerous as hell.

He was as dangerous as hell.

But it was too late. All thoughts of resistance had faded. Her need was too high.

Yes. She would fuck him. Hard and fast and then, when she’d had her pleasure, she would find out all his secrets.

Whether he wanted to share them or not.

* * *

She didn’t even have the opportunity to scan his room when he opened the door.

No. The moment they were in his room, he whipped her around and used the weight of her body and the force of his to close the door. He lifted her leg, pushed her skirt up her thighs, and planted himself against her throbbing clit.

Granted, there were layers of clothes between them, but it hardly mattered. She was so sensitive, so swollen and ready, it might as well have been skin to skin.

A prelude to bliss danced through her.

“God, you make me crazy,” he said again.

And again, she raked his nape. He made her crazy too. His heat, his cologne, his breath. All of him.

They were quite a pair.

He lifted her other leg and wrapped her around his waist, then carried her to the bed. “I can’t wait,” he huffed.

“Don’t.” She clung to him, scrabbled to undo his tie, his buttons. They popped off in her zeal, but she needed to touch him, skin to skin, stroke his chest, taste him.

As he lowered her onto the bed, she spread her palms over the mat of fur on his chest and shuddered. She loved men with chest hair. She couldn’t help raking it with her nails as well. She was wild, mad for him. And he for her.

“God, woman.” An anguished groan. He pushed up her skirt and fumbled with her panties, which frustrated her, so she helped him remove them. And then she madly unzipped his slacks and found his cock.

Ah. It was hard and hot, throbbing through the silk of his shorts. “Mmm.”

“Yes.” And then, when she reached beneath the band and fisted him, he made a noise, something like a growl.

Nat knew men and their desire. She could see in his eyes, in the flare of his nostrils, in the thrum of his pulse on his forehead, he was nearly lost in it. But then, so was she. With one last scrap of sanity, she murmured in his ear, “A condom.”

He blinked. Pulled back and stared at her through the fog. “Condom?” Another moment, and then, “Fuck.” He lurched up and fumbled in the nightstand drawer, quickly finding one and coming back to the bed. He chuckled with a boyish charm that almost made her regret what she was about to do. Almost.

Strengthening her resolve—which wasn’t hard because she was awash in her own arousal—she smiled seductively and said, “Well? Aren’t you going to put it on?”

It was nearly comical, the speed with which he fit that condom on his magnificent cock. And it was nearly a shame to watch it become clothed. God, it was beautiful. Angry and hard and thickly veined. It was a shame there was not time enough for her to taste him.