Free Dungeon Royale (Masters and Mercenaries) by Lexi Blake

as out of control as Damon’s kiss.
    Out of control and yet oddly safe. Safe enough to take a chance.
    On his next pass, she opened for him, allowing him in, and the kiss morphed in a heartbeat from sweet to overpowering.
    She could practically feel the change in him. He surged in, a marauder gaining territory. His tongue commanded hers, sliding over and around, his left hand tangling in her hair and getting her at the angle he wanted. Captured. She felt the moment he turned from seduction to Dominance, and now she understood completely why they capitalized the word. Damon didn’t merely kiss her. She’d been kissed before, casual brushes of lips to hers, fumblings that ended in embarrassment, long attempts at bringing up desire.
    This wasn’t a kiss. This was possession.
    He’d said she belonged to him for the course of the mission, and now she understood what he meant. He meant to invade every inch of her life, putting his stamp on her. If she proceeded, he would take over. He would run her life and she would be forced to fight him for every inch of freedom she might have.
    “That’s right, love. You touch me. I want you to touch me. If you belong to me, then my body is yours, too.”
    She hadn’t realized her hands were moving. She’d cupped his bum even as his fingers slid along the leg band of her knickers, under and over, tickling against her female flesh.
    He’d said exactly the right thing. He hadn’t made her self-conscious. He’d told her he would give as good as he got. It wasn’t some declaration of love, but she’d had that before and it proved false. Damon Knight was offering her something different. He was offering her the chance to explore without shame.
    She cupped Damon Knight’s arse and, god, it was a magnificent piece of work. Those cheeks were made of steel, but there was a bloody generous portion of them. She could sink her nails into them when he worked over her. Damon Knight likely wouldn’t tell her she was too rough with him the way Peter had.
    She pulled back.
    “What?”
    “I just thought about Peter. He said I was too hard on him. I don’t mean to be.”
    Damon’s face hardened, his eyes darkening. He pushed his pelvis forward, letting her feel every ridiculously long inch of his cock. “Don’t you hold back on me. Sex isn’t polite, Penelope. Sex is dirty and nasty and raw. I want you rough. I’m a bloody man and you’re going to treat me like one. And I’m going to show you just how much of a woman you are.”
    His thumb slid over her clit, and she nearly screamed in pleasure.
    Damon took the opportunity to forage deep. His tongue slid against hers. She let her hands cup that amazing bum of his even as his fingers played in her pussy.
    Pussy. She couldn’t think of it as a vagina, and fanny seemed adolescent. It was a pussy and it was readying itself for Damon Knight’s cock.
    “Do you like that, Penelope?” He slid his thumb back over her clit. “You seem to. You’re wet. Were you thinking of me before? Or were you thinking of him?”
    “Who?” She seriously couldn’t think about anything except Damon. When she arched her back, she could feel the hard line of his erection against her belly. She hadn’t had sex in over two years, but now she was about to have at it in a washroom at her cousin’s wedding.
    “Good.” His thumb stayed on her clit but his fingers parted her labia, teasing into her channel. “I want you focused on me. Tell me how it feels. Tell me what you like.”
    She was pretty sure he wasn’t talking about what she liked to eat or watch on telly. “I don’t really know what I like, Damon.” She gasped as his fingers curled up inside her, stroking deep. “I like that. I really like that.”
    He growled a little, pulling his fingers back out and then slowly, so slowly, pressing deep again. “You’re not a prude at all, are you? No prude gets so fucking wet in such a small amount of time. You’re soaking my hand.”
    Embarrassment