Page 34 of Dark Dragon’s Mate

He tangled his fingers in her soft, silky hair, like he’d been dying to do, and tilted her head back, capturing her lips. Warm, sweet, better than akhasa mead.

He could never get enough of this.

“I think you like bad wolves,” she whispered against his lips.

“I think bad wolves are incredibly hot.”

He kissed her again, deeper, tasting her with his tongue, possessing her mouth, her sweetness. She moved subtly, molding herself against him, and he could feel her soft breasts and hard nipples against his chest.

He felt the groan rise up inside him. His dick was already on fire, hard and throbbing. He pulled her tighter against him and she hooked one leg over his, so his shaft pressed right between her legs.

All these clothes between them, his and hers, and he was still almost ready to go up in flames. All he could feel was her mouth, her hands, the curve of her back as he slid one hand down to stroke her delicious, rounded ass.

He had to feel her skin. Right fucking now.

He slid his hand up inside her shirt, stroking the strong muscles in her back, her ribs, her abs. He cupped her breast, teasing the delicious pebble of her nipple, loving the way she writhed against him.

He kissed the side of her neck, her collarbone, pushing her shirt up more so he could feel more of her skin. It bunched up, getting in his way, and Trish moaned in frustration as his lips left her body.

Emon dissolved the shirt with his magic. Problem solved.

He slid his arms around her, her skin like hot velvet in his arms.

But she pulled back slightly. “Blood,” she murmured. “Cuts.”

Her wounds. Emon whispered his cleaning spell, magically wiping away the blood and dirt.

Now he could kiss her the way she deserved—collarbone, the hollow of her throat, her breasts. They were perfect, and he kissed each one with total intensity, covering every inch with his lips, licking and sucking her nipples until she moaned.

Every rib needed to be kissed, and every cut, scrape or scratch. Her breasts again, and then her stomach and hipbones. Her hands were everywhere—inside the collar of his t-shirt, down the back of his pants groping his ass, at the back of his neck running through his hair.

Every touch lit another flame under his skin.

He was high on her—her scent, her taste, her silky hair, her warmth, her arousal—everything about her pushed him closer to the edge.

He wanted her naked, right now, had to have her naked so he could touch all of her. She responded as if she could hear his thoughts, pushing her pants lower so he could kiss her hipbones, run his tongue along their hollows and down toward her sex.

She growled softly and strained toward him, raising her hips so he could push her pants down even further.

In seconds, he’d dissolved them too, and she was bare to him, skin pale in the moonlight and hot as dragonfire.

He had to touch her everywhere—he had an almost frantic desire to feel every inch of her skin, claim it with kisses, make it his.

Drive her crazy with desire, pile pleasure on pleasure until she never wanted to leave his side.

He kissed her belly, her thighs, running his hands down her legs, reveling in the taut muscles under soft, soft skin. It was impossible she should be so strong, and yet so soft.

He worked his way inward to her hot, wet core, spreading her thighs and kissing her clit until she was making desperate whimpering sounds.

He added his fingers, stroking and licking her at the same time. She writhed under him, clutching his shirt, until she went over the edge, her orgasm taking her in waves.

He rested his head on her stomach, stroking her sex until the aftershocks subsided, and then slowly began building her up again.

He kissed his way upward, one hand still between her legs, leaning on the other elbow as he kissed her breasts, her neck, her lips.

Her hands were at his zipper, opening his pants and finally, finally wrapping around his shaft. Emon growled deep in his throat, a dragon’s rumble, but his beast was staying inside, like hers. No danger tonight.

Trish stroked him, sending waves of sensation up his spine, shoving at his pants so she could touch all of him.