Brigand by Sabrina York Page B

of her skirts was not nearly satisfying enough. He yanked
them up.
    She warbled a shrill, incomprehensible howl.
    He ignored it.
    When his hand fell again, it was with the satisfying splat
of flesh to flesh. Even more satisfying was watching his handprint rise in
glowing red on her alabaster ass. She stilled. The sound emanating from her
throat was something very different. A low, wild cry. One he’d heard on several
occasions.
    His burning anger curled in upon itself and became a
different kind of burn altogether. His cock rose, throbbed in tandem with his
thrumming pulse.
    He smacked her bottom again, several times in succession,
then swept his palm over the flesh. She murmured something he couldn’t make out
and rubbed against him—ostensibly an attempt to escape but Ewan knew better.
    He’d had her many times now. He’d brought her to bliss more
than once. He knew, could tell, she was aroused. He didn’t need her to turn
just then and glance up at him with that simmering expression.
    He clenched his teeth and smacked her once more, this time
following it with a swipe between her legs. And ah, yes. She was dripping wet.
    “You like this.” An accusation. A jubilant crow.
    “No.”
    “Admit it.” He toyed with her pearl, that hard, slick little
button bathed in cream.
    “No. No!”
    “Violet,” he tsked. “A man can tell. Admit it.” He eased his
palm over the glowing globes of her ass, teasing her with occasional forays
between them. Her dampness swelled. She squirmed on his lap as he teased,
bucking and sighing each time he brushed her clitoris. “You want this,” he
hissed. “You want more. Say it.”
    She growled as he came close then danced away. It was a
petulant growl.
    “Say it. Admit it.”
    “Yes.” A whisper, spat out like bile.
    He circled her nub. “What? I couldn’t make that out.”
    “Yes!”
    Elation slashed through him in harsh, hot shards. His pulse
kicked up a notch. His cock lurched. A prickle rose at the nape of his neck.
Hunger howled in his soul. Unable to resist, unable to think, really, he jammed
his fingers into her cunt.
    She stiffened, bellowed, came around him.
    Yes. Yes. Complete and utter satisfaction whipped through
him. She was so wet, so tight, so incredibly hot, he nearly came himself. But
he didn’t. He fought back the urge.
    It was difficult.
    He did not let her orgasm trickle away. Oh no. He reached
deeper, stroked her harder, worked away inside of her, keeping her there in the
taut grip of bliss—coming again and again and again—until she was a panting,
sobbing, limp mass dangling over his thighs.
    Then like the beast she claimed he was, he laid her on the
bed, on her belly. He undid the ties of his braes and hunched behind her,
lifting her boneless body into position, covered her…and he drove home.
    She engulfed him with a warm, wet heat. The sweetest
embrace. The walls of her cunt fluttered around him. The intimate clench made
him mindless. She was exquisite.
    He plunged into her body again and again from every
conceivable angle, reveling in her low moan, the way she braced herself and
pressed back, taking him deeper, urging him on.
    She thought him an animal? He would show her how an animal
fucked his mate.
    Wildly. With no restraint. He took command of her body.
Complete domination. Violet was his and he would prove his claim like this.
    Semen burned at the base of his cock, clamoring for release.
He hissed a breath between his teeth as she came again, squeezing his cock in
an agonizing grip. Passion possessed him. His thrusts went from long, hard
plunges to short, deep, desperate lunges. Because the beast howled, because
need clawed, because he burned to underscore who held dominion here, he smacked
her bottom once more.
    And because with that smack she seized around him in a way
that sent knives of pleasure into his belly, he did it again and again.
    And then he could do nothing. Nothing but sink his fingers
into the flesh of her hips and hold her