Warriors of Wind and Ash - Page 107

Gently I pat the tip of his cock with one finger, and then I place that fingertip, wet with his arousal, on my clit. He watches me smooth his precum over that spot and tease myself with his wetness.

“I need you,” is all he says, but it’s a deep, hoarse, desperate plea straight from his soul. I can’t help thinking of the mating heat, when he beat himself against the cave walls to keep himself from fucking me in dragon form. There’s something wildly arousing about a need so raw and primal.

Taking his hand, I draw him toward the bed. I turn down the covers, exposing the smooth sheets.

“Come on.” I climb onto the bed and beckon to him. “You’ll like this, I promise.”

He climbs into bed clumsily. He seems uncertain how to sit, and he keeps frowning at the pillows.

“I know you’re used to spending your sleeping hours in dragon form,” I say. “But this is how humans do it. Lie down.” I push against his broad shoulders until he lies back on the bed. “God, Ky… relax. You’re so tight everywhere.” I smooth my palm over the hardened mounds of his abdominal muscles.

“That’s because I’m about to come,” he says raggedly. “You realize I haven’t seen you fully naked since we went to the hot springs two weeks after our return to Ouroskelle. And the last time we fucked was four days ago, in the woods, while the little ones were off in the meadow, chasing that rabbit—”

“I remember.” I blush, recalling how urgently we rutted against the tree, how fast I came for him. Just like our tryst in the portrait gallery.

Kyreagan’s dark eyes are tormented, his black brows bent, his jaw hard as if he’s in pain. I bite my lip to hide a smile as I slide my palm down his abdomen.

“Just the sight of me naked does this to you?” I ask softly.

“Serylla,” he growls in warning.

I cup my breast with one hand, squeezing lightly, and he gives a shattered groan.

“Look at your big cock, dripping for me,” I croon, tracing one finger up the side. His length bounces heavily, a compulsive jerk of need, and more precum emerges from the tiny slit of his cock head.

I lean forward and scoop up the glistening liquid with my tongue.

With a roar of reckless need, Kyreagan lunges up. Seizes me by the shoulders, flings me back onto the bed. He gropes my breasts until they’re pink and peaked, while I gasp with hectic delight, and then he takes most of my right breast into his mouth. With a faint squeal I arch off the bed, blissfully stricken by the suction of his lips.

He releases my breast, and I whimper as the cool air hits its wet, swollen, sensitive surface. Kyreagan bathes my other nipple delicately with his tongue, teasing it mercilessly while his hand softly squeezes the fullness of the underside. I can’t stop the shrill gasps I’m making, can’t stop my hips from bucking upward, seeking him, craving friction and fullness.

He slides down my body, hands caressing my sides, his kisses searing the flat of my belly. Lower, until his lips whisper over my mound and down to my clit—almost kissing where I need him but not quite…

“Ky,” I shriek breathlessly. “Ky, please!”

He growls low in his chest, scoops his arms under my thighs, gathers me close and plunges his face into my pussy.

“Ky,” I gasp out. “Ky, Ky, yes… god, yes…”

Nuzzling deeper, he plays along my spasming slit with his cloven tongue. I’m going out of my mind— “Horns,” I beg him. “I need your horns, Ky.”

They appear in an instant, and I grip them both, anchoring myself while he savors me. I’m climbing to the brink—nearly about to crash into dizzying bliss, my eyes rolling back—

“I love you,” he growls, right against my clit, and I break with a sharp scream, with a twisting, dazzling, mind-searing intensity I’ve never felt before, ever.

Kyreagan suckles me, soothes me, brings me down from the peak with the firm pressure of his mouth and slow swipes of his tongue.

I relinquish my grip on his horns and let my arms fall limply aside.

But he’s not done with me.

“Turn over, Serylla,” he commands. “Ass up.”

“Would you…” I purse my lips, wondering what he’ll think of my request— “Would you call me ‘captive’ again? And tell me wicked things, and be rough with me—”

I’ve barely finished speaking when he flips me over and crushes his whole long body against my backside, pressing me into the mattress. I tremble at the heat and force of him.

His lips graze my ear, hot breath warming my cheek as he speaks, low and menacing. “Little captive. No one can save you from me.”