But she had a feeling that Damian was trapped in his, with gates he’d locked himself—for the world’s protection.
“People around me don’t tend to live long lives,” he told her. He was in three-quarters light, and it was like she could see his own pain casting him in shadow. “I should’ve never picked you up. Even at the bus stop, I knew you’d be trouble. But I have a habit of playing with fire.”
And she could almost feel it in the air around him now. Caution, girl. “Comes with the territory, I assume?” she said, purposefully keeping her tone light.
He groaned. “I walked into that one, didn’t I?”
“Pretty much,” she said, thinking about him as he tried not to look at her. How could he do what he did and continue? No wonder he was haunted by a pervasive sense of loss. A thing that both of them had in common—at least tonight.
Andi put her hand on his wrist. “You did save me,” she told him.
“Of course. What am I, some kind of monster?” Damian gave her a feral smile in the dark. And then he looked at her and then to where they were touching, where she could feel his skin against hers, burning hot, and she remembered reaching up to touch his dragon. He slowly turned toward her, reaching for her, giving her ample opportunity to push him away.
“I should let you go,” he said, his voice low.
“Then do it,” she whispered back, even as she felt her own heat rising.
His hand clenched her wrist tighter, and then without thinking, she was kicking her shoes off and flowing over her seat toward him, silk whispering against the leather. He pulled back to pull her in on top of him, taking her onto his lap, his hands around her waist, his lips against her hair, until she looked up and saw him waiting, watching, taking all of her in.
“You know you’re an arrogant asshole, right?”
“You ask too many questions, princess,” he whispered with a grin, half a second before his lips met hers.
His hands swam up the outside of her dress as his tongue pressed in, unbuckling her coat, and the only reason any of this even vaguely worked inside the sports car was because she was so small. Her coat fell against the steering wheel, then down, and he reached around her to pull the lever to push his seat all the way back, stretching him out and laying them both down. She went with him, her mouth still searching his like she was trying to drink him up, and as one of his hands brushed over her silk-covered breast, she paused to moan.
His other hand wound into her hair and pulled her up from him as he kissed down her throat and she froze on top of him. There was something dangerous in that—how close his mouth was to her pulse, and how fragile she knew she was compared to him. She’d been with other men before, of course, and many of them had been stronger than she was, but none of them had ever been predators. Not like he was.
Then Damian’s mouth found the spot behind her ear and kissed her there, and she shuddered—came to life again—her hands caressing his abs so artfully exposed by his torn shirt.
He growled comfortably against her and bit her nearest dress strap in two. The other one he just broke with his hand, and he pushed the silk off of her, to pool about her waist. His hands moved over her ribs and breasts, taking the measure of her body. She breathed with each stroke, as she became electrified.
“That’s not fair,” she said softly, looking down at him—part of his shirt was still on. She hadn’t gotten skin earlier in the restaurant, and she wanted it desperately. She needed to feel his hot body—in all senses of the term—pressed against her. She wanted him to warm her from the night, and erase everything she’d been afraid of earlier.
“Life isn’t fair,” he said, but reached up for his own shirt collar, ripping the cotton off easily and arching up to pull it away. Andi put both her hands on his chest then and felt the swell of muscles there—skin just as hot as she’d imagined. She tilted her head lower to listen, but he knew what she was doing and caught her first. “Don’t. I can’t afford to have a heart.”
She tilted her head back and looked up his chest at him. He was breathing heavily enough to rock her—like waves on the ocean.
“Okay,” Andi whispered and lowered her mouth to kiss his chest.
Damian’s hands moved against her then—one low and one high. The low one sinking under the last of her dress to cup at her ass, the high one pulling up between them to cup her breast in its palm—stroking it, gently pulling at her nipple—as her mouth wound up his chest, her sliding herself against him. He groaned as her tongue licked up his clavicle, and he leaned down to catch her mouth again. His hands abandoned her body and tangled themselves in her hair, pulling her into his mouth, showing her what he wanted to do to her there, probing her deeply with his tongue, taking control just as fast as she relinquished it. She moaned into his mouth, and his hands flowed down her, pulling her against him even though her legs were still sidesaddle and closed, asking her, begging her, to open up. One of his hands slid between her legs, catching what little remained of her dress, to start rubbing her with its silk.
She could’ve easily remained there—his hand was so skilled—she caught his wrist and ground it into her, but she knew she wouldn’t be satisfied. Not when so much more was so close. Andi turned toward him, grabbing his shoulders with both hands, using his body to pull herself up, the remaining silk of her skirt rising to let her legs slide astride him, feeling him rock beneath her in anticipation, no matter the fact that his jeans were still on.
“Yes,” he whispered, catching her up with one arm and easily holding her there, kissing her breasts as they presented to him, sucking at each of her hard nipples, as his free hand navigated his belt and jeans below. He rippled beneath her rather like a snake, and she knew that he was free and that all she had to do was to carefully slide back down, where she would find him—hard and ready—below. She knew she didn’t need to look, that her body would perfectly fit him—this evening’s time at the restaurant had proven that—but she paused, waiting, and she didn’t know why.
“I shouldn’t want you,” she whispered, even as the heat in her kept growing, knowing that he was so hard, so close.
Damian brought his hand up to hold her cheek. “No, princess, you shouldn’t.”
There were some words when you hear them, you instantly know that they are true—even if you want to pretend that they are not. Andi saw it at the hospital all the time—patients fighting against dire diagnoses—in part because on some level they knew that they were truthful and that doctors wouldn’t lie.
You didn’t fight against what you didn’t believe in.
And so, she knew the truth when she heard it coming from Damian’s mouth. He was a dangerous man—and also a massive and horrific beast—and there was no way any part of this was right or safe, and they both knew that.
But nothing on this world—or any of the others—could stop her from sliding down.
Everything stilled waiting on her, and for the first time since they’d started making out, Andi could hear the cars flying by above again—making the bridge echo with their passage one by one—and somewhere under the remnants of her skirt her thighs were parted, and she was ready to take him in, sight unseen. She found him—or he found her—and she pressed against him and she heard him moan, just as she did, both of them feeling her begin to part around him.
“Oh, Andi,” he whispered, his hands tightening around her waist, barely stopping himself from dragging her onto him.
And slowly, in time with the beating of the cars driving above, she began to find a rhythm, rising and lowering, entirely in control of her own ride. He hissed with anticipation each time she lowered to take more of him in, and he groaned when she rose up too high, leaving him bereft—and then slowly, almost so slowly she didn’t notice it was happening, he began to move with her too, stroking into her in her own time, until she was as low as she could be, stretched totally around him, and he was hilt deep inside.
It was the final line of her invitation to him. He grabbed her ass,
pulled her close, and started to thrust in earnest and then she couldn’t hear the cars anymore over their own sounds—the way she moaned when he filled her, the way he was breathing rough, the slick-perfect-wetness of the place where they met—again and again. He used an arm to push himself up, crushing her to him with his other one, kissing anything he could reach—hard—pinning her on him again and again, her thighs wide, her clit grinding against his perfect abs—and then he paused, falling back on the seat behind him, breathing hard, staring up at her like she was a goddess.
“Show me how to make you come,” he said, his voice low and serious.
“What?” Andi laughed nervously, her voice rising.
His hands caught her hips again and rocked her back and forth. “There’s no room in here for me to eat you out again.” He held her still and slowly thrust up into her, reminding her of how far they’d already come. “And I have to see you—feel you—come again. I have to.”
She looked down at him, panting, wiping her sweaty hair away from her face and breasts with one hand.
There are dragons in this world, my dear. Real dragons.
“Anything that you desire,” he said, arching his hips into a slow stroke.
To know a dragon is to be cursed.
“Name it, princess,” he growled, rocking deep in her once more.
Beware.
“No,” she said aloud, throwing her head back, chasing Auntie Kim’s warning from her mind. Andi looked down and saw the determination in his eyes, felt the heat of his hands on her ass, and the way that his cock throbbed inside her as she slid herself up and down it. She was in control right now—she was riding him. And even if he was a dragon, he was begging to release her. She wasn’t going to let any amount of superstition stop her from taking this. “I’ll show you.”
Damian made an acquiescing rumble deep in his chest.
She leaned down and worked her way up his neck to kiss on him the spot she wanted to be kissed on, the spot below her ear that made her go insane, and he chuckled darkly. “Then this,” she whispered, taking one of his hands to pull it underneath her breast. He took the hint and kissed at it, looking up.
“And what’s next?” he asked, after swiping his tongue across her nipple.
“This, at the end,” she said, taking his other hand and bringing his thumb to her mouth, sucking on it to get it wet before pushing it down to where they joined—right beneath her clit—to use it as another point of friction, grinding herself down. He purred at this.
“All right…let me see,” Damian said, releasing his hand. He brought her down into his arms and breathed against her ear, licking up its outer shell, before sinking back to kiss the perfect spot, the one that made electricity shudder through her no matter what, so that her thighs clenched and pulsed against him, fluttering in a way she couldn’t help.
“Oh, that’s delightful,” he murmured, doing it again, and then he breathed and licked his way down to pull her nipple into his hot mouth, rolling his tongue across it and sucking hard, while pinching the other, until his mouth and hand were reversed—the heat of his mouth and the heat of his hand were interchangeable, and both of them were stoking a fire she kept secret within her—and he started to thrust into her again with intent. Then he reached up a hand and pressed his thumb into her mouth, to trail it wetly down between her breasts and stomach until she couldn’t wait for what was next, settling it between them, rubbing at her as his hips arched up.
She put her hands against his chest and ground on top of him. He curled forward to catch her waist with his free hand, pulling her into him, pushing her hair out of her face to kiss her fiercely, then twining her hair around his hand like a rope, using it to keep her over him—his mouth never stopping, his cock never stopping. Any time she came up for air, she found him almost burning her with his intense golden gaze. Andi started to moan as the fire in her expanded, giving herself over to his relentless onslaught, as he did everything she asked of him, again and again.
Oh God, she was so close. She put a hand out against the low ceiling, pressing herself down even harder so that the movements between them were so subtle—yet sharp—and the friction so hot—his hand, his mouth, her breast, her clit. “Fuck me, oh…Damian…don’t stop… just fuck me,” she whispered.
“Take what’s yours,” he commanded in a groan.
Everything inside her tightened up into one impossibly tight clench, and then everything let go. She screamed as she roiled above him, as he didn’t stop. He rode her through, into each wave and then out of it again—her entire body alight, bursting with one flame after another—until finally they were quenched and she collapsed above him like a burnt-out star, panting into the vicinity of his neck. “Oh my God,” she whispered.
“God has nothing to do with it,” Damian said, twisting his head to kiss her forehead.
Damian moved his hands to hold her to him and to stroke her back. He’d been with so many women in his lifetime, but none of them had come for him like that—so completely letting themselves go, holding nothing in reserve. She was gasping on top of him, with him still hard inside her, and even the smallest movements she made were deliciously tortuous. “Shhhhhh,” he soothed her and pulled her up so that his cock was free. She moaned at this, unsettled by its absence, and he kissed her cheek.
“You—” she protested.
“Don’t worry about me.” It was enough to have seen her and felt her explode on him. He would cherish memories of how she looked, how she felt, giving herself over, for decades to come.
She frowned down at him. Any makeup she’d had on earlier had sweated off a long time ago, and yet she was still impossibly beautiful. “I’m a nurse; you can’t tell me not to worry. It is literally my job.” She reached back with one hand and swirled the remaining silk around her waist up until her hand found his still wet cock and gently took hold.
“Andi,” he began, starting her name as a protest, but taking it into a moan. He’d been so close inside her earlier. The only reason he hadn’t come was because he’d wanted to fully appreciate her coming—now somehow, as she started stroking, he found himself getting harder still. “I don’t want to lose control around you,” he admitted quickly as her hand traced its way down his shaft.
“Why not?” she asked, lowering herself down to kiss his chest again.
“You saw the wall at the restaurant. It’s not safe.”
She paused in kissing, but her hand still stroked. “For me? Or for you?” She leaned over and gently bit his nearest bicep.
He closed his eyes, moaning softly, and then his dragon was there. His dragon had been riding him, close and quiet. In certain ways, these were the only times they overlapped easily, him inside his dragon when it was fighting, and his dragon inside of him when there was sex.
Keep going, his dragon urged him.
And now he would have to talk both of them down, dammit. Damian closed his eyes, trying to ignore her touching him.
It’s not safe, he explained. And then he showed his dragon a montage of all the times they’d already put Andi in danger tonight.
His dragon was momentarily confused, and as it relented, he somehow found the strength to reach for her wrist to stop her.
“Damian,” she whispered, setting her forehead against his. “I need this. Please. Just help me forget everything else a little longer.”
She’d come into his life and reached into his chest and had somehow shaken everything up again, bringing things to the surface that he’d forgotten he possessed. How on earth was he supposed to fight her when the thing she wanted most was what he wanted too? She leaned forward against him, enveloping him with her sweet perfume, her hair sliding over them both, her breasts temptingly close to where he could kiss them, her hand still wrapped around his rock-hard cock.
“I know, Andi, but,” he began, his voice guttural—and his dragon cut him off.
You would never hurt your mate.
Damian’s hand paused in surprise and she took
that as permission not to stop.
She’s not, he protested.
Can’t you feel it? Can’t you smell it? his dragon asked.
All he could feel was her hand around him, and how much he yearned to be back inside her. And the entire car smelled like sex, obviously, but something in Andi’s scent—the caramel and apples and ocean that he was familiar with—had deepened into a sweet and heady musk—a scent that he would follow anywhere, were it made into perfume.
Don’t you know? his dragon pressed, showing him memories from his own mind. The way his chest had tightened when he’d first seen her at the bus stop, how aptly she’d handled Austin and he’d approved, how safe he felt leaving Zach with her—even when she’d operated on him, fucking hell!—and how he hadn’t been able to bring himself to steal her memories away when he’d never had any compunction about doing it to others before. And then, at the restaurant, when he’d known he had to have her—everything else be damned. All of it made sense now.
What was happening between them wasn’t just lust. It was some strange kind of fate.
Oh…God…yes, he whispered to his dragon in rising horror. But we can never, ever, tell her, he told his dragon, as he opened up his eyes and saw Andi smiling softly down. Promise me.
His dragon paused again at this, and he felt the confusion swirling from it before it gave up on trying to understand. Human words are yours, not mine, it said. But we both share this body.
“I can stop if you want?” she asked, slowing down. She looked as confused as his dragon felt, but he released her arm.
“You make things harder for me,” he said hoarsely.
She snorted with a grin. “I don’t think you have any problem with that yourself.”
No wonder she drove him mad; no wonder being with her felt right. “Hmmmm.” He made an accommodating sound and leaned forward until he was almost upright and she was scrambling for purchase. “Here,” he said, picking her up and setting her back into her seat gently.
Dragon Called: A Slow Burn Sexy Paranormal Romance Page 18