The Warlord Gena Showalter (primary phonics TXT) 📖

Roc. Continue, or stop before he fell down an endless abyss from which he might not recover?

How could he stop?

“The battle ends when you tell me what I want to know.” Petting her inner thighs, his fingers inching closer and closer to the belt. Tormenting her. “You’re going to enjoy this...at first.”

Roc grazed his knuckles against the center of Taliyah’s plate.

Bull’s-eye. Taliyah barely halted a cry of pleasure. “Do that again,” she rasped. “I almost told you all my secrets, honest.”

He slitted his eyes, and oh, he looked magnificent. Primal. Fierce. Fevered. A warlord without equal, ready to die for his victory. The special scent wafted from him. The one from before. As she breathed it in, heat escalated. Perspiration dotted her skin.

When he grazed the metal plate a second time, she rolled her hips without thought, seeking more, her sex aching.

The intensity of those aches caught her off guard. She forced herself to still.

“Not so smug now, hmm?” He dragged a claw down her clothes, never scratching her flesh. Leather separated, sides popping free. “The mind shuts down and the body...needs.”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Did she sound drugged? So quickly?

He circled a finger around her pierced nipple. “Are you sure?”

The heat! “Very,” she breathed. “No doubts.” Other than a few hundred.

A predatory smile gave him a sinister air. “I must admit, I like the sight of you, naked and bound.” He tugged the uniform out from under her quickly, but examined her leisurely. The more he looked, the more his pulsating pupils overtook his irises. A midnight sky lit by stars and charged by storms.

“I like the sight of you liking me naked and bound.” A jest too huskily stated, too genuine. His admiration was doing terrible and wonderful things to her resolve.

A chuckle rose from him. “Your pleas for mercy will be the sweetest music.” He dipped his head and flicked his tongue over her piercing.

A hard suckle left her gasping. New heat flooded her. Taliyah reached for him, wanting her fingers in his hair and her claws in his scalp. The chains caught, holding her in place, and she groaned.

“Do you want me to keep my secrets, warlord? If you crave answers, you’ll have to try harder.”

He growled against her piercing, the most delicious vibrations driving her mad. Lucky, lucky piercing indeed.

When he turned his attention to her other nipple, she knew she was in trouble. He didn’t lick or suck it. No, he let his lips linger above it. Seconds stretched into an eternity, leaving her writhing with need.

She panted. Bit her tongue. Shifted and squirmed. Do it, Roc! Just do it!

“Do you see, harpy?” His warm breath caressed her sensitive skin, igniting wild tingles. “Deny me what I want, and one part of you will always ache.”

Sensual beast. “Maybe I ache, but you do, too. Your measuring stick is about to burst.”

“You mean my measuring log.”

Oh, no he didn’t. Roc didn’t just tease her with a bigger euphemism, adding fuel to the flames of her desire. Humor was sexy.

He lifted to his knees and carefully drew his shirt over his head, muscled alevala on sudden display. With the same languorous patience, he unfastened and opened his leathers, his erection bobbing free. A bead of moisture already wetted the tip.

The moment she spied it, she gave another spontaneous roll of her hips. Mine.

“This is what’s going to happen,” he told her as calmly as if they were having tea. He drew the small silver key from his neck, all that controlled grace staggering to her. “I will do whatever I want to you, without taking your virginity. I’ll come as many times as I wish, and you won’t stop coming until you tell me where you traveled.”

“Promise?” She knew he thought the key around her neck led to the other realm. In his mind, he had only to take the key and use it to get his answer. But he didn’t. He wanted to do this.

What would he do when he discovered the second key? The hourglass tattoo.

“Tsk, tsk. You’re only making this worse for yourself, harpy.” With a deft flick of his wrist, he separated metal from metal. Another flick, and the belt hit the floor.

“Are you sure?” Their favorite question to each other. Cool air kissed her core. “So far you’ve been all talk.”

“Apparently you’ve liked what I’ve had to say.” His tone thickened. He never took his greedy gaze from her as he wiped his mouth with a trembling hand. “You’re already soaked.”

Leaning forward, he fixed that hand near her temple and wrapped an arm under her knee, forcing her legs to part further. He seemed to simmer with purpose and anticipation. Then he rotated his hips, rubbing his erection against her core, and thought fled. They were male to female, nothing between them.

A choking sound lodged in her throat. Pressure felt incredible. He felt incredible. His rigid length seared her and she gasped.

“Try to last, harpy. I plan to drench myself in your honey before I accept your surrender.”

His unfounded confidence deserved a stinging retort. Yes, yes. Definitely unfounded. Except, he stirred his hips in a clockwise motion that very nearly disseminated her control.

Doubts surfaced, one after the other. Emerging the winner of this round might be a scooch more difficult than she’d assumed, but win she would. Whatever proved necessary.

17

Roc drank in the winter queen beneath him. A pale incarnation of every dream he’d never known he had, naked but for her jewelry, bathed in firelight and scented with frostberries and stardust. A female with a bounty of curves, his for the taking. A seductress who wielded more power over him than any other bride ever had. An assassin who refused to bend because she didn’t yet understand the depths of his determination.

Before the night ended, she would.

He’d left a new print of stardust on her vulnerable throat, the sight more satisfying than the hardest-won victory. For the next twenty-nine days, Taliyah belonged to him.

He returned to his knees,