Free Armored Hearts by Angela Knight Page A

pretty wet for a woman at the mercy of a vampire,” he observed in that dark voice, a purr of amusement and distilled sex. “You like this, do you?”
    One of those armored fingers thrust upward, sliding easily inside her pussy. She gasped as he filled her, penetrating her all the way to his knuckles. The chill of his armored hand was shocking and raw and erotic. She caught her breath.
    “Spread your legs,” he ordered, cool, demanding.
    Zara obeyed before she even had time to think about it, her thighs instinctively parting. His armored fingers pumped, setting up a lush, erotic rhythm. He was right. She really was wet.
    She worked her hips, humping his hand in shameless pursuit of ecstasy. His thumb found her clit, circled. Delight rolled over her, waves of it, sweet and seductive. A second armored finger slid in, driving into her slickness, the sensation intense.
    Groaning, Zara panted, humping his hand, straining for more of that luscious sensation. He reached up her body with his free hand, pushing aside the edges of her suit. Found an aching, eager nipple to squeeze.
    “You have such pretty breasts,” Rand murmured, low and seductive. “So pale, like mounds of cream. Especially compared to your rosy little pussy.” The light on his helmet danced from her breasts down to her sex and back again, tracking the movement of his eyes.
    “God, that feels so good,” she moaned, closing her eyes and rolling her head against the mattress.
    “And it’s about to get even better.” To her intense disappointment he released her pussy and nipples, leaving them aching. She raised her head, arms still flung helplessly wide, as he rose from the bed and took one of her booted feet in his hand. He found the boot’s seal and traced his fingers down its length. It split wide open over her shin, and he pulled it off, setting it neatly aside. He did same thing to the other boot and set it down with its mate before picking something up off the floor.
    Whatever it was gleamed as he fastened it around her ankle. She identified it when her leg instantly went as numb as her manacled wrists. Neurocuffs. “What are you…”
    “You’re a fighter. I don’t want you to.” The light on his helmet flicked up to her face. “Later, you can fight.”
    What the hell does he mean by that ? Before she could ask, he put the other shackle on her ankle. “Now,” he rumbled, “you’re really helpless.”
    He pulled her into a sitting position so he could start stripping the uni off her shoulders and down to her waist, then dragged the sleeves down her arms, then raised her hips to pull the suit off. At last he lay her down and arranged her spread-eagle. The cuffs paralyzed her arms and legs. There wasn’t a damn thing she could do to flight him. He could arrange her body in whatever way suited him.
    Which left her naked, shackled and wildly aroused.
    Rand rose from the mattress and stood beside it, his helmet’s light taking a slow tour of her nudity, lingering on face, breast, and pussy. Half blinded, she waited to see what he would do next.
    “That’s better,” he purred. Reaching up, he took off his helmet and set it down beside the mattress. The helmet light swung up toward the ceiling of the cave and brightened until it illuminated the space in a soft glow.
    Licking her lips, Zara watched him remove his armor, listening to the soft metallic clicks, and the sigh of the armor’s seals. He dropped the gauntlets beside the helmet, then removed his boots and placed them together opposite her clothes. Finally he stripped off the top and bottom of the suit to reveal his handsome, brawny nudity. Finally -- God, finally -- he was completely naked.
    He took a small jar out of his pack. Straightening, he unscrewed the lid, his big cock bouncing with the movement.
    “You’re going to like this.” Rand smiled wickedly down at her, anticipation in his gaze as he reached into the jar and scooped up a generous portion of glistening gel.
    “What