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Straightening his hand landed on her midriff, slight pressure and she tilted back to standard station one.

Clair let out a startled squeak as her body shifted and she found herself on her back, sort of. A blunt pad, positioned at the top of her ass, thrust hips up. Her feet were secured to stirrups that had swung wide as the contraption moved. She ended with her legs bent and elevated so not only bare pussy but also her back entrance was clearly visible. Her hands were clutching the top of a short bench that supported her upper back and head. The huge Centurion stood between her legs and leisurely studied her most private flesh.

He was looking at her. It wasn't cold, but there was no codling in his regard. She'd known there wouldn't be but the reality of Trel taking her was nothing like she'd imagined it would be. She'd been imagining for a very long time, at every opportunity, and still, she'd under estimated how this would feel.

Breathing in sharp gasps, Clair sank into the flames of surrender. They licked across her inhibitions, a ravenous blaze that could easily consume her very soul. Oh mercy, he was just standing there examining her. The OBGYN table on steroids restrained and displayed her. Like the huge male regarding her, it removed all her choices, stripping away modesty in the most delicious, commanding way possible. It made her feel more than naked, more than displayed. It shouldn't have been a shock, but it was.

Trel pulled a remote from his pocket and raised the platform, bring her to a comfortable level to handle. He took his time examining the delicate female before him. The sight of her presenting was a memory he intended to savor slowly, soaking in every detail. Her sweet body was shaking with excitement as she worked her way through this explicit submission.

Lush was a good word for her. She was everything a fully mature warrior needed. Round thighs to spread for him, a plump surnim to pump his seed into and the welcome cushion of her generous back mounds. Those coupled with her compelling scent would have captivated him. That she was his mate forced a much more basic craving.

Iron control kept his features fixed as the entire universe faded. Clair was a dangerously curvy goddess, bone melting beauty the weapon she wielded. How did males take this, viewing their mate and not fall on them like starved beasts? Her excitement displayed in the glossy fluid flowed from her pretty surnim, thick and creamy, plentiful enough to lubricate her other entrance as well.

The human word ass was abrupt, harsh even. He liked the feel of the crude word in his mind as he looked at what he knew was a virgin opening for Clair. His woman was not his own but her ass would be.

The deeper scent of shame was creeping into her excitement. Trel smiled inwardly. His little mate was such a repressed female in human society. She thought ridiculous things about her generous body; her thoughts were betrayed by her choice of dress and decorum. Perhaps her station in life had something to do with her clothing, but not much.

He glanced at her face because he couldn't resist the pull of her soul. Those expressive green eyes would destroy him if he spent too much time looking into them. He had been tempted to use a hood but decided not because it might decrease her pleasure. His shatteringly beautiful mate wanted his dominance. She would have it.

She looked away as he glanced up. Good. He would let her have this moment to hide from him, but it would not last long. He intended to share this pleasure and that meant surrendering her right to conceal anything, even her eyes.

"Your preparations are adequate," he gave her restrained approval.

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