Diana's hands mapped his chest. She traced the hard, flat planes of his pectorals, her thumbs brushing lightly over his nipples, eliciting sharp, involuntary twitches from his torso.
She leaned down, pressing her lips to his collarbone, whispering breathless, broken prayers of submission against his skin.
He was the absolute center of the universe.
The Warlord Protocol hummed a blinding, deafening frequency in his blood.
Ryan couldn't stay passive. The crushing, overwhelming pressure building in his groin demanded execution.
He broke the kiss with Zara, his chest heaving. His large hands shot out, gripping Sophie by the waist.
He hauled her up off his shaft, pulling her forward until she was straddling his hips.
Sophie gasped, her eyes flying wide as the cold air hit her flushed skin. Ryan didn't give her a second to adjust. He gripped her hips, guiding his thick, slick head to her dripping entrance, and drove his pelvis upward.
