Page 21 of Knotted by the Mountain Man Dragon

Because it can’t. Neither can mine.

I pull her closer, her back against my chest, and hook her top leg over mine. She’s open to me. Exposed. I can feel the heat of her against my cock, which has been hard since she pressed her nose into my throat hours ago.

“Is this okay?” I ask against the back of her neck.

“Ask me that again and I’ll bite you.”

My dragon likes that.

I push inside her from behind. Slow. Easy. She’s sore, I can tell from the way she catches her breath, but she pushes back against me and takes me deeper and makes a sound so soft and wrecked it almost undoes me.

This is different from last night.

Last night was urgent. Explosive. The mate bond detonating after a lifetime of buildup.

This is slow. This is lazy morning rain and gray light and her body curled against mine and the wet sound of me sliding in and out of her and her breathing going shallow.

I cup her breast. Squeeze gently. Roll her nipple between my fingers. She arches back against me and I press my mouth to her shoulder, her neck, tasting the salt on her skin.

“You feel incredible.” My voice is low against her ear. “I spent my life not knowing what this was supposed to feel like. And now I can’t imagine going a single day without being inside you.”

“Cage…”

“Every morning.” I thrust deeper, slow and deliberate. “Every night. Whenever you want me. I’ll always be ready.”

My hand slides from her breast down her stomach. Lower. My fingers find her clit and she jerks against me.

“Too much?”

“Not enough.”

I press harder. Circle. Match the rhythm to my thrusts. She’s rocking her hips now, meeting me on every stroke, and the sounds she’s making are getting louder, less controlled.

I grab a fistful of her hair. Gently. Enough to tilt her head back, enough to expose her throat. She moans and her back arches harder, pressing her ass against me, and I pull her hair just a little tighter and thrust deeper.

“That’s it, baby. Let me hear you.”

“I’m… oh God… oh…”

“Say my name.”

“Cage.“ She breaks on it. I feel her tighten around me, her whole body clenching, and she comes with a cry that echoes off the log walls and I follow her, burying myself deep and holding there while the release rolls through me.

No knot this time. Not every time. But the closeness is just as devastating. Her body pressed against mine, both of us breathing hard, rain on the roof, the first gray light coming through the window.

I press my lips to the nape of her neck.

Mine.

She reaches back and finds my hand and laces her fingers through mine.

Hers.

I go downstairs while she showers.

This is strategic.

If I stay within hearing distance of her in a shower, I will get in the shower with her, and she needs to eat before I touch her again.