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His. She might own him, but just now, he owned her. Her body danced to his tune, her breathless voice begged for the pleasure only he could give.
He was hard as stone.
“Mad Dog,” she moaned, rolling her hips against his face. “Sweet Lady, please!”
He lifted his head, suddenly hating that name with a passion. “Rance. My name is Rance.”
“Rance! Rance, you drive me insane!” There was a note of genuine desperation in her voice that had him grinning in dark pleasure.
Oh, yeah. She was his. Taking his time, he savored her, enjoyed every whimper, every twitch of long, muscled legs, every roll of her hips. He cupped her breast with his free hand, squeezing and teasing her nipple, driving her hunger higher and higher.
She jerked, making a desperate, pleading sound.
And he could take no more. He had to have her.
Now.
In one hungry move, he pulled away from her, grabbed her slender hips, and lifted her. She gasped an incoherent protest, but he’d already moved between those long legs. Catching his aching cock in one hand, he positioned himself at the opening of her sex.
That first thrust was a long, liquid slide that tore a shout from his mouth. She cried out in chorus and convulsed. Her legs wrapped around his butt in a fiercely strong clasp.
Bracing one arm against the back of the chair, he began rolling his hips, grinding hard, taking her. Enjoying the hot, creamy clasp on his cock.
And as he rode her, he watched her face, loving the way she threw her head back in ecstasy. Loving the blushing curve of her mouth as she gasped in time to his thrusts.
Mine.
It was an irrational thought, and he knew it. She wasn’t his, couldn’t be his. He didn’t even know who she was, what kind of game she was playing.
And yet his body, buried deep inside hers, insisted this was just where he was supposed to be. And God, it was so sweet.
Rance closed his eyes, letting the burning delight take him, feeling it pulse and tighten in his balls. On the verge of spilling over.
She cried out sharply and convulsed. He opened his eyes to watch her orgasm flood her. Her tiny inner muscles drew tight around his cock, each delicate convulsion sending another jolt right to his balls.
The convulsion took him by surprise, tumbling him with a bellow into climax.
Mine, that primal something roared in his head, caring nothing for logic. Mine!
Long minutes went by before he recovered enough to drag himself off her, pick her up, and take her place in the pilot’s seat. She moaned in sleepy protest but subsided as he arranged her across his lap. Slender arms wrapped around his neck, and she nestled her face against the underside of his jaw.
Rance sighed and wrapped his own sweating
arms around her. He let himself relax, float in the aftermath.
God, how could he have forgotten how damn good this felt? After so many weeks of helplessness and humiliation, it was delicious being a man again. Being treated as a man again.
The sweet pleasure lay on him as weightless and dreamy as a feather spinning in the breeze. Until she spoke.
“Mad Dog? I mean, Rance?”
“Hmm?” He wished she’d settle down and let them both sleep.
“I think it’s time to tell you what’s happening. Why I need you. What I’ll give you for helping me.”
He jolted from the sweet lassitude and opened one wary eye, then lifted his head to look down at her. His muscles grew taut. “I’m listening.”
She took a deep breath. “My name isn’t really Lady Selan. This isn’t even really my face. My nanos are broadcasting a simmie disguise.”
