She lifts her sparkling green eyes to mine. “The only reason I considered him for even a moment was because he reminded me of you.”
“That insufficient, posing, brainless lavish fiend reminded you of me?” I growl, insulted right down to my toes.
She laughs, and it’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. “Indeed. But of course he’s second best to Maledin’s handsome dragonmaster.”
“Fourth best. Sixteenth best. More. He doesn’t even rate. Swear that he doesn’t place anywhere in your heart. Swear that your heart is just for me.”
Zenevieve’s eyes grow dark and hazy, and she pants beneath me, and I realize I’ve rolled on top of her. That I’m gripping her shoulders and ordering her to speak. My rut is coming on stronger than I’ve ever felt it before, and I’m having trouble thinking straight.
“Kiss me,” she breathes.
“I-I shouldn’t.”
“Kiss me, please. Kiss me because it will make me happy.”
I stare at her plush mouth. Maybe it’s not the gods who have kept me from Zenevieve. Maybe it is my own stubborn heart. I feel a stirring of something that feels like permission, or at least an excuse. “A kiss would make you happy?”
“Please.”
I stroke her cheek with my thumb, marveling at her beautiful face. Her sparkling eyes. As I touch her lips, they curve into a smile. “This is the first time I’ve seen you smile in such a long time.”
“Would you like me to go on smiling, or will you make me weep again?”
I only want to make her smile, and my rut-addled brain can think of only one way to make that happen.
I slant my mouth over Zenevieve’s and kiss her.
The whole world turns golden, and my mouth fills with sweetness. I kiss her again, the most intense sensations crashing over me. She opens her mouth, my tongue caresses hers.
“Is it all right?” I whisper, pulling away, conscious that I’ve never kissed anyone before. I want to deliver on my promise to make her happy. Zenevieve’s eyes are heavy lidded. Instead of answering me, she cups the back of my neck and pulls me back down to her.
I kiss her so many times that I lose my breath. I bury my face in her throat and inhale deeply. “You smell happy. Gods, I’ve missed your scent. How many kisses do you need to keep you smiling like this and smelling like this?”
“Thousands.”
I kiss her again. A thousand kisses it is. More. I pepper her cheeks and throat with kisses. I dare to slide a hand around her waist, then her lower back, and then finally cup her ass and pullher tight against my knot. Her scent is sweet with arousal, and she moans against my lips.
“All right,” I gasp, making myself loosen my grip on her. “All right. Let’s not get carried away.”
It’s important to not get carried away. I just can’t remember why.
“Do your dragines hurt, Stesha?”
“I’m fine.” They hurt badly. My knot aches worse than it ever has in my life, but it doesn’t matter because I have a warm, happy Zenevieve lying in my arms.
Zenevieve strokes her fingers down my chest, and my breath shudders. She runs her fingers across my stomach and then lower. Dangerously lower. I tell myself to grab her wrist, but apparently I don’t tell myself very urgently because I go on watching her instead. Her fingers wrap around my thickness through my underbreeches, and she strokes me.
I groan, closing my eyes.
“Why mustn’t we get carried away?” she asks.
“Because,” I begin, and then run out of things to say. “Because, um.” I glare at her. “I can’t think when you’re touching me like that.”
“Good. You think too much.”
I seize her face and kiss her. “I think exactly the right amount.” I kiss her again. “I know my purpose and my duty at all times.” Her mouth opens beneath mine, and I thrust my tongue past her lips.
Sweet little Beta…
