“Fuck—”
I file the curse away. Add it to the inventory of responses I’m building. She doesn’t curse often. I want to make her curse more.
My fingers pump steadily while my mouth stays focused. Her sounds climb higher. Her grip on my hair turns painful. Her body tightens around my fingers in rhythmic pulses that tell me she’s close.
I pull back.
“No—” Her protest is immediate, desperate. “Don’t stop, don’t?—”
“Not stopping.” I crawl up her body, letting my body drag against hers, letting her feel the heat radiating from my skin. “Relocating.”
I position myself at her entrance. Watch her face as I press forward—slow, controlled, letting her feel every inch.
Her mouth falls open. Her eyes flutter but stay locked on mine. Her hands find my shoulders and grip with pressure that would leave marks on lesser creatures.
I’m not lesser.
I bottom out inside her and hold there. Let us both feel the completeness of being inside her. Her body grips me like she’s afraid I’ll pull away.
Not a chance.
“Move.” Her voice comes out shattered. “Please?—”
I don’t make her beg twice.
The first thrust is slow. A full withdrawal that makes her whimper, then a deliberate slide back in that punches a moanfrom her throat. I establish a rhythm that’s unhurried but relentless—the way I hunt when I know the prey can’t escape.
Her legs wrap around my hips, heels digging into my ass, trying to pull me deeper. Her nails score my back—dragon skin healing the marks almost as fast as she makes them. The sting of each scratch feeds the fire building in my blood.
“Harder.”
I comply. Shift the angle to hit the spot my fingers found earlier. Her reaction is immediate—a sharp cry, her internal muscles clamping around me, her nails raking new lines down my spine.
“There?” I know the answer. I ask anyway.
“Yes—god, yes, right there?—”
I give her what she wants. Harder thrusts that rock her body against the stone floor. Deeper angles that make her voice break on every impact. My hand finds her thigh, hitches it higher, opens her further.
The shelter fills with the sound of flesh meeting flesh. Her moans. My rough breathing. The wet evidence of her arousal with every thrust.
Heat builds in my core—not only the fire I carry, but the coiling tension of approaching release. I fight it back. I want to watch her shatter first.
My thumb finds her clit. Circles with pressure that makes her sob.
“Come for me.” The command emerges rough, more growl than words. “Now.”
Her body obeys. She breaks apart beneath me—back arching, voice cracking on a scream, internal muscles gripping me in waves that destroy my control.
I follow her over. Bury myself to the hilt and let the release tear through me, emptying into her with a groan that echoes off stone walls.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. I stay inside her, braced on shaking arms, my forehead pressed against hers. Her breath comes in gasps that match my own.
“That was...” She doesn’t finish the sentence.
“Deliberate.” I press a kiss to her jaw. Her throat. The corner of her mouth. “Chosen.”
“Thorough.”
