Spellbound (Page 6)

Author: Sylvia Day

“Look how ready you are.” His fingers stroked between her legs, gliding through the creamy evidence of how excited she was. “It must be exhausting fighting against yourself all the time.”

“Fuck you,” she spat. Though his tone was matter-of-fact and not smug, she still felt suppressed. Restrained.


“Actually, I’m going to f**k you. And you’re going to trust me enough to enjoy it.”

“I can’t trust you. I don’t know you. I only know what you want, which is the exact opposite of what I want.”

“Is it?” he asked patiently. “You’ll know me by the time I’m done. We’ll start with sex and work our way out.”

Victoria snorted. “How original.”

He paused, and she knew she’d scored a direct hit. She thought that would be the end of it.

Then against the back of her legs she felt the roughness of his jeans. “Aren’t you going to undress?” she breathed, her already keen senses now painfully acute from her blindness.


One word. No explanation. She struggled, but was stilled by the warm, broad head of his c**k stroking against her clit.

“Spread your legs wider, Victoria.”

She didn’t move. Damned if she’d help him tame her, arrogant bastard.

He sank in, forcing her slick tissues to spread for him, to accept him. Just an inch. Then he withdrew. Rubbing the now creamy tip against her, Max teased her, and then pressed inside her again. Just that one inch. She buried her head in the comforter and groaned, her sex spasming, trying to pull him in to where she needed him.

“If you spread your legs, you can have what you want.”

Victoria lifted her head. “I want you tied to the bed so I can torture you. Not the other way around.”

His rumbling laughter made her shiver. The fact was, no matter what Max did or said, he attracted her. “But you wouldn’t be enjoying that nearly as much as this.”

“Screw the games, Max. Can’t we just f**k?”

“I want to f**k you like this, angled just the way I want you.”

“What about what I want?” she complained.

“You want the same thing, kitten. You just wish you didn’t. You’re so tight like this, your cunt is like a velvet fist. I’ll have to work my way into you . . . ”

Max waited with the same studious patience he’d displayed since meeting her, all the while the head of his c**k stroked into the mouth of her pu**y in silent enticement. Her traitorous body beckoned him with a soft ripple. She was soaked and hot, more than ready.

She briefly considered altering and walking away, but then she wouldn’t have sex with Max and that just wouldn’t do. So, with her pride smarting, Victoria widened her stance. He’d pay later.

Immediately he surged inside, going deep and then deeper still until she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, every part of her focused on the thick pulsing c**k that filled her too full.

Gasping, her back arched as his short nails scraped lightly across her hips. He leaned over her. Dominated her. As his rippling stomach touched her bound hands she felt the dampness of his sweat through his t-shirt.

The warlock was not as controlled as he appeared.

Taking what little power she could, she clutched his shirt in her hands, holding him to her.

Hands on the mattress to support his weight, Max began to shaft her in long, deep drives. The angle of his penetration stroked with tantalizing pressure inside her, and he varied his thrusts, rubbing high and then low in an expert inner massage.

It was slow and far too easy, his hips pumping in timed, measured rhythm. Unable to see, she pictured how it must look, Max fully clothed, his ass clenching and releasing as he f**ked her bound body. She quivered and began to purr. He growled in response, the vibration traveling the length of his body and into his thrusting cock.

“Do you feel weak?” he asked, his voice guttural and taunting. “Do you feel reduced because your body serves my pleasure and not your own?”

She wanted to retort, to argue, to fight, but she couldn’t. It felt too good doing nothing but taking what he gave her. She was a cat after all and inherently lazy.

“Inherently submissive,” he corrected. He moved one hand to cup her thigh and pulled it wider so he could f**k deeper. Now every plunge of his c**k brought his tight, heavy balls against her clit.

He’d read her thoughts, she thought with what part of her brain was still functional.

The taming had begun.

With a soft hiss, she tightened around him. He cursed softly and shuddered, his body betraying him.

Suddenly, she grasped that he was as helpless as she. She’d attempted to use her body to entice him, and he’d succumbed. Despite the outward control he displayed, Max had started the evening with an entirely different approach and had dissolved from that into lust that could not be denied. Even now, his fingers bruised her hips, his thighs strained against hers, his labored breathing sounded loudly in the room.

Realizing that she was not alone in this unexpected physical fascination, she relaxed, sinking into the bed with a moan. It was not surrender. It was a stalemate.

Victoria’s mouth curved in a catlike smile.


Max lifted the cup of coffee to his lips and stared out the window at the St. John Hotel directly across the street. He took deep, even breaths, his thoughts fully focused on clearing his mind. Excitement and anticipation coursed through his veins, and he studiously worked to temper them.

Control. Where was his? It was undeniable that when he was with Victoria hunger drove him, not his mission.

His kitten was a tigress in bed, one who rolled, scratched, and bit with abandoned fervor. Tying her to the brass headboard had been a necessary delight. One he’d repeated often over the last two weeks.

I don’t like this, Max, she’d said every time. But with her ni**les hard against his tongue, he’d known the truth. She quaked, cursed, writhed, and the sight always made him so hard he’d have to grit his teeth to hold back his lust. Then he’d give up and f**k her for hours, long past exhaustion, abandoning his assignment in favor of overwhelming pleasure.

And the Council knew it.

Your lack of progress displeases us, They’d complained just an hour ago.

“You’ve given me very little time,” he’d retorted.

We think no amount of time will be sufficient for taming the feral. She is beyond rehabilitation.

“She is not.” He’d exhaled sharply. “You’ve never rushed me like this before, and she’s the toughest case I’ve ever been given.”