Having spent her life confined behind the walls of an opulent palace where she could be kept safe and pure, twenty-year-old Princess Saraska is innocent, naïve, and utterly unprepared for what is in store when she is taken captive by Roark, the barbarian ruler of the planet Sentara.
To her surprise, Saraska quickly discovers that while Roark will not hesitate to bare her bottom and spank her thoroughly any time he feels it necessary, the tall, handsome king is far from the ruthless savage she expected. His stern discipline and his bold, intimate exploration of her virgin body leave her quivering with need, and when at last he claims her completely his skilled, dominant lovemaking brings her pleasure more intense than she could have ever imagined.
Though Saraska grew up believing her people were peaceful, she soon begins to realize that she has been lied to her entire life. But when her own father conspires to turn her against Roark, will Saraska see through his schemes and trust in the man she has grown to love?
Publisher’s Note: Taken by the Barbarian includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
“Touch your pussy, Princess,” he said gruffly before engulfing her nipple.
“Roark,” she moaned, her body joyously heating up at his touch.
“No?” he said, moving his head back to appraise her.
He gave her scant moments to answer before his hand spread over her behind in an outrageous slap.
The suddenness caused her knees to quake and she involuntarily lowered herself onto this thigh. He spanked her again, harder so that her whole body shook from the impact.
“Back up onto your knees. Back straight.”
She obeyed him immediately. But the untouched openness between her legs, the searing burn on her behind, and the wetness still on her nipple from his mouth wrecked her. He licked then sucked her nipple again, drawing it out between his teeth then letting go. She quavered and cried and sighed when he sucked her gently again.
He smacked her backside once more and she shuddered against him but remembered not to fold her legs and rest against his thigh when all she wanted was to rub her clit against his muscle. He turned his attention to her other breast and he did the same, spanking her all the while. Only this time, his hand lingered on her hot bottom. He massaged her, kneading in the heat he created. She just grew wetter and more restless. She fisted her hands against the headrest. His spanking had soon passed the stage of pain and seemed to open another facet in her.
“Please, you touch me,” she begged.
In answer he slapped her again, but this time his fingers slipped against her wet core and she groaned and pressed down on him. For her disobedience, he smacked her center and she shuddered.
“Please,” she whimpered.
“Touch yourself, Princess.”
He massaged her globes, not stopping the sweet mindless torture on her breasts. Her nipples were so painfully extended now and drenched from his touch. She needed that release he showed her that her body could do. And he wouldn’t be giving it to her himself like he always did.
Her female flesh quivered with need. The repeated blinding whoosh of his hand on her bottom removed everything from her mind. Leaving her with only a hand or go mad otherwise. She couldn’t stop herself. With her gaze fixed on him, her fingers rushed between her thighs. Roark’s roar of approval encouraged her. A flood of sensation met her fingertips. She was wet and smooth and hot and needed to find release. She had no idea she would feel so sleek, so pretty. This is what he felt when he touched her.
“Ah.” He looked down at her hand between her thighs. “Touch your clit, sweetheart. Like the way I do.”
“Roark,” she moaned, her free hand curling around his neck as she rubbed her middle finger against her clit. He spanked her again as he incited her with his words to slip her finger inside, to make herself come for him. She wet the fabric covering his thigh as she stroked her flesh and dripped her hunger onto him. Finally, she was able to bring herself at least half of the joy of what he could give her.
APRIL VINE is a night-time erotic romance writer and a daytime professional dreamer. She adores books, chocolates and shoes, and is happiest doing all three at the same time.
She lives in a house with boys and a few four-legged furry things and has come to accept both species for the strange creatures they are.
Email her at firstname.lastname@example.org