She didn't want to be in control. She wanted him to keep touching her.
And when he pinned her wrists to the mat, pressing his broad, hard chest against her back, her pride finally broke.
She didn't want to be the High Shaman anymore. She didn't want to carry the weight of the tribe or the sky. She just wanted to be crushed under the weight of this man. The absolute, heavy dominance in his movements offered a sick, desperate relief. She didn't have to be in charge.
She could just surrender.
As his hands dragged down her sides, brushing against the sides of her breasts, a hot, wet ache flared violently between her legs, something she didn't even know she possessed.
Her hips moved completely on their own, bucking off the mat, desperately trying to grind against his thighs. She was chasing the friction, chasing the heat, completely a slave to the sensations he was forcing into her body.
