Offered

The foreign palm crushed her fingers against her burning sex, drawing a hoarse moan from her. She felt another hand curl into her hair, pulling her head back as a hot mouth pressed against her neck, nibbling at the taut skin.

"Fine, little female dog," the voice growled in a breath that smelled of leather and tobacco, "but you can do better."

The hand in her hair pulled harder, forcing her neck into a painful curve as sharp teeth scored her collarbone. Her own fingers, still crushed under the foreign palm, dug deeper into her throbbing flesh to the imposed rhythm.

A second moan escaped her when a cold grip suddenly encircled her waist, half-lifting her to better expose her quivering form to the light.

A rough tongue traced a burning line along her spine as a steely grip pinned her hips to the cushions. She felt the air tear as a cold leather glove wrapped around her throat, squeezing just enough to make black shards dance before her eyelids. "You can see Roarke's trained you well," the voice rumbled, biting her ear, the words flowing like poisoned honey through her throbbing eardrum.

Jenna mused, "Trained, no, but awakened my nature, my sexual perversity, yes, for sure."

The leather-gloved hand tightened imperceptibly around her throat, cutting off her breath just enough for stars to dance before her eyes.

She felt another palm, large and rough, grasp her hip, fingers digging into her flesh like claws, immobilizing her as a hot breath traveled the curve of her back.

The hands became exploratory, her body vibrating under his pressure, she was beginning to lose control.

An icy finger slipped between her parted lips, tracing the outline of her mouth before plunging brutally inside, muffling her scream. She bit into the leather of the glove, the acrid taste of old leather and metal invading her tongue.

• Naughty little girl, do you know what they do to those who don't behave?