Page 16 of Knotted by the Mountain Man Dragon

“You said that already.”

“I’ll say it every day until you believe me.”

He unbuckles his belt. Unbuttons his jeans. Pushes them down.

My brain goes completely offline.

He’s proportional. That’s the first thought my mind manages. He’s a six-foot-five wall of muscle and he is proportional, and I feel a rush of something between thrill and genuine logistical concern because how is that going to…

“Stop thinking.” He’s reading my face. One corner of his mouth twitches. Almost a smile. “I can see you doing math.”

“I’m not doing math.”

“You’re calculating fit.”

“I am not…”

He climbs onto the bed and leans over me with one hand braced above my head. He lowers his mouth to my ear as his other hand slips between my legs.

“This pussy was made for my cock, baby.” The words land like a lit match on gasoline. “You can take it. Every inch.”

A sound comes out of me that I will deny making for the rest of my life.

He kisses my neck. My collarbone. Drags his mouth down between my breasts and I feel his teeth, his tongue, the impossible heat of his skin against mine. He takes one nipple into his mouth and I arch off the bed and grab his hair and he groans, the vibration running through me like electricity.

He spends time there. More than I expect. Sucking, licking, biting gently, then switching to the other side while his hand covers the breast his mouth just left, his thumb dragging slow circles over the wet skin. I’m squirming beneath him, my hips lifting off the mattress, looking for friction, looking for him, and he knows it. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Cage, please…”

“Please what?” He drags his tongue flat across my nipple. “Tell me what you want.”

“You. Inside me. Now.”

“Not yet.”

“Not yet?”

His mouth moves lower. Down my ribs. Across my stomach. He presses his face against the soft curve of my belly and inhales deeply, and I hear him growl, low and satisfied, like my scent is something he wants to drown in.

“Every part of you,” he mutters against my skin. “I want my mouth on every part of you.”

His hands grip my hips and tilt them up. His mouth finds the crease of my thigh and I jerk. He licks. Slowly. From the inside of my thigh to just beside where I’m aching for him, and then he does the same thing on the other side, and I’m going to lose my mind.

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Yes.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” His breath is hot against me. “You smell like you want to come on my face. Again.”

I make a noise that’s half laugh, half sob.

Then his mouth is on me and I stop laughing.

He licks me like he has all the time in the world. Long, slow strokes, his tongue flat and hot, tasting me thoroughly before he finds my clit and focuses there. Circling. Pressing. Pulling back when I get close, then doing it again.

“Cage, if you don’t…”