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She ached to the point of pain. If he didn’t fuck her soon, she felt as if she’d burst. She whispered, “Please.”
He slapped her other ass cheek. “Female. Ready. Now.”
“Yes.”
And without preamble, he thrust into her with one swift motion. She fisted the sheets in her hands at the intrusion. In this position, the fullness was almost too much to handle.
Then he started to move. His hands were now on her hips, guiding her forward and back against his cock, his rhythm picking up pace until his balls were slapping against her clit with each thrust.
If she’d thought he’d taken her rough before, then now he was downright brutal. He was in complete control of their rhythm and the movement of her hips, but she loved the feel of his hairy legs against hers, the pure male dominance of his touch as he pulled and pushed her hips against his. She would be bruised later, but right here, right now, she didn’t care about anything but her next orgasm.
For a second, she wondered what had happened to her; she wasn’t this sensual, demanding creature. Then Tristan slapped her right ass cheek and she moaned, gripping the sheets tighter in her fists. She was so close.
Tristan let out a roar as he stopped pounding and held her firmly against his cock. Again, she felt the heat of his seed and she was blinded by another intense orgasm. If Tristan hadn’t been holding her up by her hips, she’d have fallen over.
Then all too soon, Tristan pulled out and she felt empty again. She must’ve made a noise, because Tristan flipped her on her back and said, “Again. Now.”
His pupils were flashing between slits and round globes. The dragon was insatiable.
And yet, despite how exhausted she should be feeling after two wild bouts of sex, her core throbbed, wanting more.
Then Melanie did something she’d never done with a man before, and bent her legs up before running a hand to her clit. As she stroked it, she purred, “Yes. Again.”
Without warning, Tristan pushed her legs wider and thrust into her again. Somewhere in the back of Melanie’s mind, she wondered if she could be killed by too much sex because it was certainly looking like that might happen.
ChapterEight
“Melanie, wake up.”
Melanie turned her head into her pillow. “I’m tired. Go away.”
Someone shook her shoulder. “Melanie.”
She was awake enough now to realize it was a female voice speaking to her, which meant it wasn’t Tristan-slash-dragon waking her up for more sex. She peeked open an eye and saw it was Samira.
She was beyond exhausted, and not to mention sore, but somehow her brain realized that the presence of someone other than Tristan in her cottage was significant. She turned her head a little and asked, “What?”
Samira brushed Melanie’s hair off her face. “How’re you feeling, my dear?”
She grumbled. “That is what you woke me up for?”
“No. But I need to make sure you’re awake before I tell you why I’m here.”
She was naked, but under a sheet, so Mel turned onto her back and stretched her arms. She grimaced at the soreness between her legs. “How long was I locked up in here?”
“A week.”
Wow, a week. She vaguely remembered the sun coming and going, but it was a haze of sleeping, eating, and fucking. Oh, and orgasming. There had been lots of orgasming.
She looked over to the other side of the bed, but it was empty. While she’d done very little talking with Tristan over the last week, she’d grown used to his heat and weight either beside her or on top of her. His absence felt...wrong.
She looked back over at Samira. “Where’s Tristan?”
Samira’s face went expressionless. “He went back to his job this morning.”
“Training the young dragons?”
Samira nodded. Melanie’s brain was almost fully alert now, and she made the connection. She looked down at her belly. “That means I’m pregnant.”
