by T. A. Grey
The statement hung out there like an accusation.
He wasn’t afraid to admit what she did bothered him. She should have come to him, should have told him. Everyone in the kingdom knew he’d been trailing after her scent for two years. He had thought that he simply needed more time to break down her defenses.
Not for his lack of trying. But he could only get so far while trying to tamper his aggression. His tightfisted nature shook her up and he’d yet to soften enough for her apparently.
She already thought he was too dominant for his own good. Or so she’s said. Didn’t she see how badly he wanted her? He needed her to end his torture and finally put him out of his misery.
“I suppose I was too nervous to tell you myself. I only learned that I’d been chosen last week.” She waded deeper into the water, raising her sequined dress higher to reveal shapely thighs. The water level rose to lap at her tantalizingly milky calves, shapely with muscle from years of dancing. He watched her move gracefully through the water on the tips of her toes, riveted.
“A cowardly move,” he chastised.
“Perhaps. But I’m not the only one here who’s a coward. Am I, General?” Her teasing banter was punctuated with a heated, low-lidded look. She looked at him from dazzling copper eyes.
When she had fun it was contagious. That laughter threatened to weaken Ryon’s own defense; his mouth twitched to laugh. Something he couldn’t let happen.
“I’m here right now. I don’t think that makes me a coward.” He was daring her to be honest. But would she rise to the bait?
“Do you like my new dress?”
The question took him by surprise. But no more than what she did next.
With a laugh, she flicked one of her dress’s strap off her shoulder. The material slipped down to reveal a whole glimpse of overflowing mounds of supple flesh. This sight of her breasts barely being contained by her tight top had muscles tensing in his neck until they felt ready to snap.
He advanced toward her. “Stop this and come out of there. We need to talk about this.”
“My darling General, why don’t you join me instead?” She took one long look at him and that was it—she had him pinned. Nothing was worse than a beautiful woman getting the hold of you and Penelope had him lined up in her sights. Gentle, taunting laughter almost succeeded in coaxing a smile from him. Almost.
“No,” he answered, the denial not coming easily.
“Now who’s the coward?” Her chin lifted in challenge. She squared her shoulders like a soldier, all the while fighting a smile.
“You shouldn’t taunt me with how I feel right now, Pen.” Like a string too tightly wound, that had been cranked and cranked beyond capacity. The pressure was full to overflowing. All it would take was the faintest crack for the pressure to burst. He’d explode.
A crash of water sounded as she dropped down into the water then surged up to her full height. She looked like an exotic enchantress with water cascading down her body in the moonlight. Already her magic was weaving itself around his bones, beckoning him to do her will.
“Taunt you? Why, oh why, would I ever do that? General.” She added the last part like she couldn’t help herself.
His muscles coiled like a loaded spring. “What did I tell you about calling me that ridiculous name?” He recognized that dangerous glint in her eye; it was the same look she wore before chaos ensued.
Ryon stepped into the water, moving to stop the impending destruction.
That didn’t stop her. “It’s what I want to call you, so I will. There’s no changing that. Why do you continue to fight a war with me that you can’t possibly win?” she asked.
He closed in on her, mere feet separating the distance between them. Warm supple female to hard aching warrior.
She slipped the second strap off her shoulder.
Bare skin, mounds of palpable flesh with hardened tips bobbing gently from her chest. Her sleek ribcage flared out to wide hips. Beckoning him like a magic spell. Exquisite. She bared her breasts to him like an ancient offering. The mouthwatering sight didn’t stun him as he might have expected, but empowered him instead.
Ryon charged forward, catching her startled intake of breath a moment before he snatched her by the shoulders and pulled her into his arms.
“Say my real name,” he demanded.
He couldn’t catch his breath; neither could she. His control was a thin piece of thread tethered to an anvil, fragile strands softly snapping as the weight proved too great to hold. She knew what he wanted to hear, but refused to give it.
“General.” A breathless hitch hung in her answer.
Bare breasts pressed against his crisp shirt and he captured one with his rough palm, snatching it. It felt incredible. Better than he could have imagined—soft, warm skin and a mound that filled his hand. His fantasies couldn’t live up to the real thing, not even close. He palmed her with growing intensity, molding her and learning her shape, the texture of her skin, the firmness of her tit and nipple. His shaft throbbed with undisguised longing.
Indecision skewed across her face: the need to obey and disobey warring in her mind. He could see her thinking, struggling to choose the right path.
Her breast heaved in his hand, yet she kept herself tightly guarded against him. He could see it in her hesitant scrutiny. He’d need a battering ram to strike down those walls—and he had only a few days to do it. He had to make his mark now.
Ryon pinched her nipple between two fingers, applying pressure until her eyes snapped back to his. Then, as he held her attention, he gave her an order as he had to many a soldier.
“Say my name.”
Chapter 2
General Ryon Amadeus Ward was a hulking beast of a man.
He befitted his stature as General of the Tarlèan military to perfection.
He was a hero to all. Even to her. Though she doubted she could ever admit as much to him.
Thanks to him, the Tarlèan people had managed to stave off attacks from the Avagarians.
The Avagarians are their deadliest enemies; an uncivilized tribe of horrifying beasts that lived on the eastern-side of the country. They called it the Wastelands. Only one hundred acres of forest separated the Tarlèan kingdom from the Avagarians’ Wastelands. Living on infertile land at extreme temperatures left few resources for the savages. They tried to survive by murdering and pillaging from Tarlèan resources.
Many now regarded Ryon as a war hero. Before Ryon was promoted to general, the raids on their kingdom had occurred monthly with dire costs. The Avas had targeted the silver mine and attempted to blow it up. Silver was their greatest weakness. When in their deadliest, bestial form, silver acted like acid to their flesh. Silver was now the Tarlèans most sought-after resource. It was used on all manner of weapons and even embroidered into clothing as a sign of wealth.
The attacks didn’t just come at the mine. The Avas attacked homes of innocent people. They looted their meager belongings, like the animals they were. Penelope lost her parents in such an attack. Ryon’s younger sister, Faye, later came to the same fate. They all shared a common enemy.
The matter between Ryon and Penelope was a difficult topic. They were both demanding people and neither of them wanted to cave in and change. Ryon lived his life by leading a charge using his intelligence to win, instead of his brawn.
Penelope was similar, yet different to him. She used her charming wiles to enamor people. With her dancing she could bring joy and happiness to those who normally don’t feel it. She created art with her body through straining poses and leaping movements to music. She told a story through dancing. The power she felt while dancing made her feel like a god. It was no wonder why she and Ryon clashed so often—even while they fought their burning desire for each other.
Such was the crux of their almost non-existent “relationship.” She might have moved on by now, as a matter-of-fact, she would have, if she could’ve. That’s the thing. There was no moving on from Ryon. He was embedded dee
p her skin. He’d lodged a place inside her years ago, and like a girl harboring a pathetic crush, she’d been unable to rid herself of the General’s Affliction as she liked to call it.
Aptly named, she thought. For he was an affliction. An affliction on the senses, on the mind, and on her heart—which he tested the hardest.
Because of her uncertain, volatile feelings for Ryon, Penelope had kept him at arm’s length. Whether he liked it or not—he clearly loathed it. She saw it in his angry eyes, in the narrowing of his pitch black eyebrows, in the disappointed frown that dented his full mouth.
There were certain “things” Penelope had never dared attempt with Ryon. Everyone knew who he was and what he did. This made things between them ever more complicated. The man threw her world into disarray every moment he entered the room with her. And while she loved having fun, she did not like the kind of trouble that Ryon brought. That trouble being one of desire. Whenever he was near, she felt the most irresistible urge to touch him, even kiss him.
Dangerous thoughts for such a dangerous man.
At the thought, her gaze dipped to his mouth, then caroused over his flexing arms where muscles rounded and bulged in pleasing ways. She nearly sighed at his strength. Something so purely physical and it made her feel giddy as a schoolgirl.
Her gaze continued over his torso down to his tapered hard hips. She licked her lips as warmth gathered in her body. Hulking and strong, he was big, making her feel so much smaller by comparison. His bottom lip was slightly puffier than the top which formed two perfect mountain peaks.
A lump formed in her throat somewhere around the time he grabbed her nipple like he owned it. There could be no kissing of the general. Even if his mouth was a sight for sore eyes. Last time she’d kissed him, she’d barely managed to get away with her senses intact, let alone her heart.
She couldn’t go through that pain again. It still hurt. And that night transpired two years ago. Here in this very same spot. Of course he would bring her here. To their spot.
Ryon wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck and gently tilted her chin up. Their eyes met and locked. He had dark brown eyes like wet mud—and they saw through her—scaring her far worse than any Ava ever could.
He was large and virile, tougher than a bull. All things she wasn’t, but craved in a man. Those deft hands covering her body could hurt her in an instant, could steal the life from her body, or crush her heart into a million pieces. The last he’d already proven he could do with a few choice words.
He may be strong and all-powerful, but she wasn’t. Her strengths were limited and she knew where they lie—and relished in them, as a matter of course. But she didn’t have the power to deal with Ryon every day. He was dictating. He’d crush her spirit whether he meant to or not. He couldn’t even deal with her profession. On more than one occasion he’d asked her to consider other work because he didn’t like the way men ogled her. When she’d tried to explain that they were supposed to watch her, he’d shaken his head in disapproval.
That happened years ago. And here they stood today, still fighting the same battles.
She’d played the different possible scenarios in her head too many times to count, and each time it came out with a bad ending for her. And so, she stayed away from the tempting general as much as she could. When she didn’t see him for days on end, she found herself laying up at night in bed thinking about him, wondering what he was doing, wishing he was there next to her.
Yes, she had it bad for him.
But she couldn’t bring herself to be with him.
Penelope recognized, thanks in part to her sisters’ constructive support, that she was too strong for Ryon. She and Ryon were both demanding and strong-willed and too stubborn to back down. It would never work between them. Still, he did possibly have a few qualities she liked very, very much. Which made him all the more dangerous to her heart. General Ryon Amadeus Ward had a special, albeit strange, place in Penelope’s heart. But that’s exactly where he needed to stay.
Ryon dipped his head low. The close proximity snapped Penelope back to reality. She froze as his mouth neared, waiting on bated breath.
Agony. Their soft breaths collided and mixed, his moist breath wickedly close. Every muscle in her body pulled tight in anticipation for what was to come. A kiss. Would he really dare to try after two, long years? And would she let him?
Ryon closed the final inches separating them, giving her all the time in the world to move away. Her stomach was a jumble of nerves. She still had yet to decide what she was going to do if he actually tried to kiss her.
Then it came. Warm lips grazed the corner of her mouth. He turned a touch into it, smearing his lips across her, a brush of heat that was there, then gone so quickly she might have imagined it.
“Say my name.” He spoke in a harsh voice.
This game between them had never gone this far before. To give in to him would be to lose. She had too much at stake to risk.
“Say my name,” he repeated much slower and with more force than before.
Her legs trembled. “General.”
This was her other problem with Ryon. With the simplest of touches he had her panting and ready to submit. Liquid heat pooled between her legs as tensions grew. She wouldn’t live her life under the thumb of a dominant man. Not like her mother had. If Penelope did one thing right in her life it was this. She could not be with Ryon. He didn’t know how to give an inch, let alone give her the kind of freedom she needed to thrive.
There was a ruthless tug on her nipple. She couldn’t fight a moan as pleasure warmed her skin.
He was winning. Slowly she was slipping under the spell of his seductive touch. He kneaded her breast while he held her close, lips strikingly close. If only they swayed together they would be dancing.
She had to even the odds.
With a sudden turn, she spun and planted her arse against his groin.
They both gasped.
His hands latched onto her hips as he thrust forward once, hard. His cock was a thick shaft pulsing against her. He was so large—her sex dripped at the thought of him sliding deep inside her.
Ryon grunted in response before his arms closed in around her. He touched her everywhere, hands sweeping up to capture her breasts and pull at her nipples, before sliding down past her hips then up her spine. Again and again he repeated the torture, his touch burning pathways across her heated flesh.
Her mind turned foggy with haze. Pleasure overwhelmed her body bringing out the animal inside her. She wanted so badly for his hand to slip between her legs and touch the moist folds of her sex. A part of her that only she touched. Ever since their shared kiss two years ago, she’d not let another touch man touch her. She couldn’t bear the thought of any man touching her—any man but Ryon.
Must take control, she reminded herself.
Her arse pumped against his cock, working him. The thrill of tempting him and knowing she was driving him out of control was the headiest sensation.
“Are you really going to fight to claim me?” The question she thought had been buried in her psyche suddenly came out.
Ryon kissed her neck sending a cascade of shivers down her spine. Then he opened his mouth further and the sharp press of his teeth prodded her neck. Whoever won the claiming would not only mate with the chosen female, but keep her forever as his own.
“You know I will,” he said confidently, his voice having gone deep and raspy. “No one can stop me.”
No doubts in his mind. No questions. The loyalty was both humbling and a touch frightening.
“This weeks’ end, we’ll be doing this without clothes between us, Pen. Just you and me. I’m finally going to taste all of you.”
Panting, her breaths came out choppy. Her head fell back against his shoulder, giving him even more room to kiss her neck and shoulders. “So certain you’ll win?” she countered.
His grabbed her hips in a brutal clasp. “I know it.”
Her sex was worked up
and blood rushing with excitement. His words connected erotic imagery of him claiming her. The claiming was a rough and wild ride. To do it with Ryon…
“I can’t stand it,” he growled in her ear. “You’re wet and I can smell it drenching you.” He almost sounded angry at her. Like he wanted to punish her for arousing him. “I have to touch you. Give me permission.”
“To do what?” she breathed, no longer able to keep her eyes open.
One hot hand slid down her stomach over the sequined costume. The leotard ran tight between her legs. In an instant he cupped her there—hard and firm, fingers enfolding her sex. Hot spasms twitched as he caressed her. She teetered on the verge of something searing and explosive.
“To make you come.”
A single finger trailed over her sensitive flesh. Even with the barest of pressure, she quivered in need. What would it feel like to have skin on skin contact? Maybe she’d combust and the whole kingdom would hear her cries.
“I’ll make you come right here, right now, Pen. Just allow me…” he said, his deep voice hypnotic. “Tell me yes, that you want me.”
That’s it. Just tell him she wanted him. Oh, how simple he made it sound. To admit so, would be to accept his dominance, to relinquish control and give into submission.
The idea tantalized her wicked sensibilities, but her reservations kept her in check. His touch scraped over her sensitive bud of nerves between her legs again making her hips jerk. She needed more than that little scrape. Though not much more.
“I’m going to claim you one way or another, Pen.” His voice dropped even deeper, speaking soft and low into her ear. “I’m going to slide my cock right inside you here, where you’re juicy and wet for me.” With that bold statement he cupped her firmly over the costume.
A mewl tore from her throat, eyes rolling to the back of her head. “Ryon!”
He sucked in a sharp breath. “What did you say?”
Her throat was so dry she couldn’t repeat it again, could only arch into his hand. That was the final straw for him.
With a growl, Ryon deftly slipped his fingers inside her costume and cupped her sex. Skin to skin.