Masks of a Tiger

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Authors: Doris O'Connor
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"
    That blush of hers
deepened, and she attempted to glare at him, but quickly dropped her gaze, when
he straightened up to his full height and simply looked at her, one eyebrow
raised. Her breaths grew shallow, and he sensed her need to fidget, yet she
didn't move under his silent scrutiny.
    He bent down and tapped
her knees.
    "Kneel on those and
put your hands behind your back, girl." She flinched at the hardness of
his tone and threw him another of those cock-hardening, defiant glances, but
she complied immediately. God, he hoped she never lost her inherent sass.
Taming her was such fun, even when she grumbled under her breath.
    "I'm no fucking
sub, I'm not."
    "Of course you're
not. That's why even now you're doing exactly what I ask of you. That's why you
got so wet when I spanked your ass that my jeans are soaked through with your
juices. That's why I can smell your arousal, and if I chose to take you right
now, I bet you're so fucking wet, my cock would slip in right to the hilt, filling
you, pushing you. Is that what you want, my sweet not-sub? Or do you want me to
punish you by tying you up and leaving you hanging?"
    She bit her lip hard
enough to draw blood, and the keening sound she couldn't quite stop making was
music to his ears.
    "Or do you want me
to tie you down and let you feel the sweet burn of the fire, let it dance over
your skin, until you beg me to come, until you tell me why it has such a hold
on you?" He knew he was pushing her, testing her reaction, and he was not
disappointed. Her whole body tightened at the mention of fire-play. A shiver
went through her, of fear or need, he couldn't quite determine. And even though
the mere thought had bile rising in his gut and he had to force the words out
past his lips he had to ask. "Or, perhaps you'd like me to get Trikus , so we can take turns fucking you, using you we as
we see fit until you can't see straight? Would you like that? Is that what you
came here for?"
    Grisha bit back a
curse as she went as still as statue. Fuck it all to hell and back. Why
had he said that? He didn't want to share her. Grisha was no stranger to ménages. They were a fuck-load of fun with the right people,
but the thought of another man's hands on his woman, made him want to gouge his
eyes out. Grisha shook his head in disgust at
himself. Did he need any more proof that his tiger had made his choice? He was
so fucked. When had she become this important to him?   And what the fuck was he going to do about
it?
    His tiger snarled his
anxiety, and he almost didn't hear her whispered denial.
    "No, Sir, please. I
don't want Trikus ?”
    ****
    Blood rushed in her ears;
her cunt clenched; her muscles coiled in anticipation, and every fiber of her
being was drawn to the timbre of his voice like a moth to the flame. The cold
stone floor dug into her knees, reminding her of the ridiculous position she
was in, but she could no more not listen to those, deep, accented tones than
she could breathe. Some part of her, that strange part that craved his approval
like a drowning man craved, needed, air to survive, made her say those words.
    No sooner had they left
her lips, than Grisha yanked her to standing. He
slammed her body against the door with such force that had it not been padded,
she would have been bruised all over. She swallowed nervously at the fierce
expression in his eyes, as they bled to his tiger’s and his claws ran out on
his hands. They dug into her skin as he held her up by the shoulders. His
nostrils flared, and he looked every inch the lethal predator.
    A flutter of fear made
her stomach tighten in need and anticipation. The fact that he looked so close
to losing control shouldn't really have her so excited that wetness trickled
down the inside of her thigh, should it? The tiny pinpricks of pain where his
nails dug into her skin, the heavy musk of aroused male, the heat of his cock
digging into her lower belly, the knowledge that she was at his mercy, mixed
together with the

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