Her Lord and Master by Alexa Cole Read Free Book Online Page B

like a contented cat.      
    Ragnor leaned closer until his mouth was only a fraction of an inch from hers. Elizabeth tried to loosen her arms from his grip, but he clasped her wrists tightly until she feared her fragile bones would snap like kindling.
    His mouth came down upon hers unhurriedly. At first, his lips brushed hers lighter than an angel’s breath. He kissed one corner of her mouth, then the other tenderly. Elizabeth purred and her lips opened to him against her will. His tongue probed her mouth patiently, retreating and returning, thrusting and parrying, until she was panting with need for him and writhing with longing.
    He gripped both of her tiny wrists easily in one hand. With his other hand, reached for the new dagger attached to his belt. Elizabeth saw the glint of metal in the waning light and gasped, renewing her efforts to escape. She screamed aloud, shrieking like a banshee and bucked like a madwoman, gnashing her teeth and flailing her legs. With the flick of his wrist, Ragnor cut the rope away from her throat and tossed the cord over his shoulder.
    “Elizaveta, stoppe,” he said softly.
    She ceased fighting, realizing what he had done. He planted gentle kisses across her neck, licking the line where the rope had been to soothe her and calm her fears.
    “Jed er ked af,” he murmured against her neck. “Elizaveta.”
    With deliberate slowness, he glided his free hand downward and untied the strays that bound her cloak. She had been genuinely terrified for a moment, and he was truly sorry for that. But he knew the pleasure he would teach her this night would more than make up for the fear she felt right now. Her body had already responded enthusiastically to his touch, and he was confident he had only uncovered the tip of the iceberg of her passions. He would unleash all of the desires he knew she held pent up inside.
    Ragnor eased back the lapels of fabric that obscured her body from his hungry eyes. His eyes feasted upon the view for a long moment. Good gods, she was the embodiment of perfection, he thought. Every inch of her body had been created to drive a man insane with the need to burrow himself deep inside of her.
    Drinking in every inch of flesh, Ragnor drew a long line down the sensitive swell of the outside of her breast. Elizabeth’s nipples puckered and raised. He repeated the action again, watching with fascination, as pleasure and yearning played across her face. He traced the underside of her fleshy mounds, one after another, lifting them and kneading them, one by one. His greedy eyes never left her as he drew her higher and higher to the heights of wonderment.
    He placed his palm flat over her heart, and ran his hand down her belly. Her stomach quivered, and her hips arched instinctively against him.
    Ragnor released her wrists, finally, and cupped both of her engorged globes with his hands. His mouth came down upon her breast, latching upon her nipple through her dress. She moaned deep in her throat, and clenched her small fists.
    He smiled between her bosoms. Yes, she was a lusty one, just as he had hoped. Ragnor licked her nipple, wetting her dress visibly, and then moved to its partner, lavishing it with equal attention. He squeezed them together, sucking both nipples at once. His hands spanned her ribs, while his hips met hers with gentle gyrations.
    Outside, a horn blew.
    “Jeg er sulten,” he said, stopping abruptly.
    Elizabeth didn’t understand. She looked down at herself, legs splayed, nipples wet, coat unfastened. She was a disgusting tramp. And obviously, Ragnor thought so too. She scrambled to cover herself, horrified. She had never been more ashamed in her life.
    Ragnor came to his feet.
    “Er du sulten?” he held out his hand to help her rise.
    She refused his assistance and tied her cloak hastily, looking away. Ragnor rubbed his hand over his belly and licked his lips, grinning.
    “Sulten,” he repeated. His flat stomach growled loudly. “Starving.”
    He