Imperius Ch. 03

He had ached to touch her from the first moment he had watched her enter the tent, her angelic curls framing her face, tempered into gentle elegance with combs of golden filigree. Delicate blue silk stretched tight about her breasts and bared her midriff, deliciously suggestive. The effect in the tent was everything he had wanted. Each official and Praetor was startled in their own way—even Ariadne, though she barely let it show. Some were offended and some were lustful, but none of them failed to be satisfying startled by the sight of her.

And all he wanted was to tear away every comb and inch of fabric and feel her warm in his arms, to bury his hands in the silken abundance of her hair. To kiss away the look of cornered prey in her eyes.

Now he burned for her. He could feel her unwanted arousal, the heat between her legs against his hand. It inflamed him beyond reason. He ripped away at the silk fabric she wore, touching every reachable inch of her skin.

He lifted her, guiding her legs around his waist as he moved to his work table. With one arm he cleared a space, shoving electronics and papers to the ground. Lilah startled at the muffled clatter, but he claimed her mouth again, resting her on the desk and freeing her hair with an impatient hand. Her curls tumbled into his hand, soft and lush as silk. Her skin, her fragrance, she was the most irresistible thing he had ever known.

It had been a mistake, bringing her to the war council. Everything had gone according to plan, yet he hadn't calculated what it would do to him: to see her ogled and insulted by his enemies, to feel torn between his instincts to protect and dominate, and to see his own impulses reflected in the face of a dozen other men.

They were alone, at last, but the sounds of the encampment were there, just beyond the fabric of his tent. Lilah looked anxiously toward the tent's entrance as he tore the last stitch of fabric from her chest, freeing her breasts and taking hold of the plump handfuls.

"Forget them, Lilah," he said, his voice rough. "It doesn't matter if we have an audience of thousands." He brought his hand around her throat, guiding her eyes back to his with a subtle pressure. "I'll take you, whenever and wherever I please."

He kissed her temple, for the pleasure of watching her lashes flutter of their own accord, then trailed his lips down her neck until he reached her breast and claimed it with his mouth, teeth brushing the skin until she whimpered and arched her back beneath, her modesty forgotten at last.

It was all he could take. He tore away the rest of the fabric, tossing it aside heedlessly as he took the sight. With his other hand, he freed his cock from restraint. She had been shaved since he'd seen it last, but he could still make out the gleam of golden curls in a dainty patch above her quim, which quivered hot and pink and damp against his hand. He traced two fingers against the slickness of her thighs, savoring the sight. "You're wet for me," he said, and looked at her face, no trace of playfulness in his gaze. "Say it."

She hesitated barely a moment, "I'm wet for you."

"Master," he corrected.

"Master," she said, her face coloring and ashamed.

He posed his cock at the tip of her cunt, and buried it to the hilt.

She gasped, and he touched his fingers to her lips, tracing the wetness of her own arousal against the petal-soft skin.

"Beg me to make you come, Lilah,"

Her flush was as lovely as a sunrise. For all her humiliation, Magnus doubted whether she knew how smoothly her hips moved with him, how lovingly her cunt tightened around his cock.

"Make me come, please," she said.

He thrust deeply. "Louder."

"Make me come, please Master!"

He rode her then, fiercely and with very little finesse. It was like hunting, this coupling. He sought her orgasm in the way he would chase prey, thrusting his cock into her like a spear.

"Again," he said, his voice rougher than he expected.

She stared up at him, a watery shine in the heartbreaking loveliness of her eyes. Somewhere beneath her shame and misery, he saw a sparkle of defiance. "Please make me come, Magnus."

He didn't know what made her say his name, but he felt like he might die of pleasure when he heard it.

His cock throbbed as he felt her rise on the crest of her orgasm, and he rode it with her, beyond restraint. When he spent himself inside of her, it was with a quivering, prolonged spasm, his rear clenching, braced against the fury of his own release.

He nearly collapsed on top of her, bracing himself with one elbow and resting his sweat-dampened forehead against hers. When he did draw back to gaze down at her, something in his chest swelled, an inexplicable yearning coalesced with his satisfaction. He wanted her to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him, unprompted. He wanted her to whisper of her own satisfaction and pleasure in his ear. He wanted...something.

He gazed at her for another long, taut moment, and then stood, adjusted his clothing into a presentable condition, and strode out of the tent.

He felt Lilah's eyes, forlorn and bewildered, follow him as he left.