Ar'Tok - Alana Khan Page 0,42

about three feet wide.

“This,” he says as he cups my sex from the front, “is mine.” To make his point, he cups it harder. “Nod if you agree.”

I nod while entertaining the odd thought that our enemies will find us hiding in this dark back corner by the smell of my arousal alone.

“Good,” he breathes as his cirr pull my head back slightly, exposing my throat. What is it about this position that is so sexy? I never would have dreamed I would love being at his mercy like this.

I whimper in protest when his hand leaves its post between my legs and slides under my t-shirt. Both his large palms cup my breasts outside my bra.

“These are mine,” he announces with whispered authority. “Correct?”

I nod.

“I’m glad you understand your situation—I’m in complete control.”

He finds my nipples through the thin material of my bra and rolls them just hard enough to make my knees weak. Impatiently, he pulls the bra up to rest on top of my breasts, then plucks my hard, sensitive buds. He starts soft, then harder until my hips roll, massaging the hard cock at my back.

Then he tugs them even harder until he pulls a gasp from me.

“That’s right. Your body knows it belongs to me,” his warm breath stirs the hair above my ear. Biting along my jawline, he nips forward to my chin, then retraces his path until he scrapes my earlobe.

It feels so good I don’t know how to handle all the input bombarding my senses. One hand is gently pulling and twisting a nipple while his other has resumed its post between my legs, the heel of his hand pressing circles on my needy clit.

My mouth is open, panting, while my mind inventories my body, noting there isn’t a square inch of me that isn’t desperate for more.

My mind knows the sound of gunfire and angry screaming is just a game, but my nervous system is on heightened red alert.

I can’t control my pout as the hand between my legs abandons its post. Is my marauding pirate leaving? But he slips it between my pants and my skin and slides it ever so slowly past my navel, over my mound, whispers around my clit, and nestles at the entrance of my core.

“Ohhh,” I sigh, so softly certainly no one could hear me over the sound of scattered gunfire.

“I told you not to make a sound,” he scolds, his cirr gently yanking my head back. It inflicts no pain, just reminds me he’s the boss.

I nod, reiterating that he’s in charge.

“Good girl,” he breathes, “I just might let you live.”

His hand is still circling, circling, stoking my fire. I squat, not-so-subtly trying to impale myself on that abusive, cruel finger that is driving me crazy. It doesn’t miss a beat, just keeps reminding me it’s right there, in complete control.

“Little civilian wants this?” he croons as he grants me an inch, maybe less, of the despicable, ungenerous digit.

I nod and, unable to stop myself, writhe against the brick-hard body lodged at my back like a second skin.

Absently, I notice there’s less shooting and shouting. It’s been a miracle no one has stumbled into this back corner.

“Come out, Dax!” Shadow yells. “It’s just you and me left.”

Despite the drama playing out in the paintball arena, Ar’Tok hasn’t let up on his physical assault. In fact, he ups his game, dipping his finger deeper into me.

“I can’t bear it,” I whisper. It’s too much. Too intense. As much as I want to come, it would mortify me to do it here where I might shout my pleasure, alerting everyone to what we were doing.

He pulls out of me, drops the hand that was performing magic on my breasts, and kisses me chastely on my cheek. After dragging my bra over my breasts, he smooths my t-shirt down and takes a step away.

We both snug closer to the bunker and peek at the action.

“Are you surrendering?” Dax’s deep voice goads.

“You surrender!” Shadow calls, insulted.

“You can agree to share the win,” the owner’s voice booms over the loudspeaker.

“By Freyd’s balls, that I will not do!” Shadow says on the run as he moves toward Dax and slides behind his bunker on the floor, feet first.

We hear the concussion of a flurry of paintball hits, as well as a string of epithets that would have shocked me only a few days ago.

“By Vorhee’s left nut!” Dax’s voice is passionate. “You hit me.”

“Dracker!” Shadow yells, “You got me.”

“Who was