by Olivia Myers
The last few minutes had been so sudden, turning everything she’d thought topsy-turvy. Rhys wanted her. Not just once. Not even just twice.
Are you sensing a pattern here, Ms. O’Hare? he’d said, his obsidian eyes flickering with inner fire.
Rhys Maddox, The Dragon, wanted to date her. He’d wanted her by his side tonight as he wined and dined his colleagues and cronies. She’d been there, behind the scenes, making sure Andy Rosenberg’s pork medallion was kosher and that the soft music playing in the background throughout dinner wasn’t Bach (because that reminded Chelsea Thomas of her father, a concert pianist, who’d passed away only six months earlier from cancer), or making sure his tablet was beside his favorite chair in the parlor so he could refer to it when they discussed charities.
But he’d wanted her there with him.
She couldn’t quite believe it, despite the fact that the words still rang in her ears and his arms were solid and warm under her.
He had no trouble pushing open the door to his bedroom. She’d been there before, collecting fresh clothes for him or dropping off dry cleaning, but it looked different from the vantage point of his arms.
The rich, jewel tones of the fabrics glowed against all the pale wood. And the bed was enormous.
“I like your room,” she said, yipping in surprise as he tossed her onto the center of the vast bed as if she weighed no more than a down pillow. “Though, the bed is awfully high.”
She peered over the edge, wondering if she’d ever be able to climb in and out on her own.
“Redo it.” Rhys tugged off his tie and tossed it aside. “Redo the whole damn room if you’d like.”
Her giggle faded away as he finished with his cuffs and pulled his shirt free of his slacks.
“I told you I like it.” She swallowed in an attempt to wet her dry throat. “Maybe I’d get a step stool, though.”
And then his shirt was off and she forgot about stools, and jobs, and anything except for the burnished expanse of his skin.
Rhys made short work of the rest of his clothes before crawling onto the bed, his body gorgeous and gleaming and naked and ready. Watching his sculpted muscles flex and stretch as he moved over her was enough to make her nipples throb and her pussy clench.
“Rhys!”
She couldn’t take her eyes off him, but she would have heard the pleased grin in his voice even if she had.
“Oh, little rabbit. I do love it when you look at me like that.”
Cassandra didn’t need to ask him how she was looking at him. She could feel awe and lust and admiration and affection and love all well up in her when she watched him. She knew it was painted on her face and shining from her eyes and she didn’t care. She wanted him to see it.
He hadn’t said he loved her back, but that was okay. She didn’t need him to just yet. Him saying he wanted her by his side was enough for now.
Rhys took his time. He laid her back on the bed and kissed her until she was limp and shaking beneath him, clawing at his shoulders and rocking up against him in a desperate search for friction.
But he moved away, stripping her slowly of her dress and her bra. He rained kisses down on places Cassandra didn’t think anyone had ever kissed before. The inside of her elbows, the hollow of her throat, the underside of her chin.
Not that he neglected any of her other parts.
He once again feasted on her breasts, cupping them in his big hands, kneading them, and lifting them to his eager, sucking mouth. His tongue stroked and curled around the rigid crests. His teeth bit and nipped, making her whimper and cry out.
Those big hands shaped her ribs and caressed the slight swell of her belly and the roundness of her hips, lifting her so he could mouth the delicate skin of her navel.
This time, he drew her panties off gently instead of tearing them. Cassandra would have ripped them herself, she was so aching and needy, but his dark eyes kept her pinned in place.
She could only watch as he pressed his lips to her instep and ankles, nipped her calves, and swiped his tongue through the sensitive hollow at the backs of her knees. By the time he reached her trembling thighs, Cassandra was begging.
“Please, Rhys, please. You’ve got to…I can’t…I need!”
But his big, strong hands held her hips still as he blew warm breath against the damp curls above her pussy. His eyes burned into hers.
“Let me look at you, rabbit. Let me just look.”
Cassandra felt the blood burning in her cheeks and throat, but she spread her legs wider for him and watched as his gaze slid from hers down to the wet, open slit between her thighs.
“Just like that,” he crooned in a lust rough voice.
She shivered. “Rhys…”
“Fuck, little rabbit. You’re so gorgeous. And so open. Not just here…” He slid a finger down her sensitive sex, making her gasp. His other hand stroked upward to press between her breasts. He met her eyes. “Here.”
Her breath caught as his dark eyes blazed at her.
“I’ve been wanting to do this since you set foot on the hundredth floor.”
He lowered his mouth to her pussy, his tongue lapping at her drenched folds. Cassandra fell backwards, eyes squeezing shut, unable to keep watching as pleasure consumed her like the flames Rhys breathed in his other form.
Two thick, twisting fingers drove into her tight, slick tunnel even as his lips and tongue worked her clit. Sharp, hot, pulsing lust poured through her veins, lighting up her entire nervous system. Her body shook with it.
Other men had gone down on her, but none of them had done it the way Rhys now did. His hungry mouth defined “eating out.” And then she remembered what he’d said to her that first day, and a thick chuckle poured from her throat.
Rhys paused in his attentions, lifting his head. His lips glistened with her juices. He licked them.
“Something funny, little rabbit?”
Her breathing was beyond ragged, and she could barely pull a breath she was so turned on, but she nodded. “Always…worried I’d get…eaten by a dragon,” she finally managed with a wide grin.
Rhys smiled back. “Oh?” He dipped his head to lap at her clit with a wide, flat tongue. “And is it as frightening as you imagined?”
She arched against his hold, shuddering as he curled his fingers within her and rubbed.
“Terrify — oh!”
He wrapped his lips around the nub of her clit and sucked, pumping his fingers, and pushed her over the edge. She squeezed her eyes shut so tightly she saw swirling colors behind her lids as pleasure sparkled through her.
She called his name and his mouth was on hers, tasting of her but also of him. His own unique, smoky flavor. He stroked his hand down her side, shifting her legs and then returning to cup one heavy, soft breast.
Then he was gliding into her, her flesh still swollen, wet, and twitching with pleasure. He moved torturously slowly, working himself into the tight clutch of her body inch by incremental inch, until he was seated completely inside her.
All the while his burning dark gaze remained on her face.
He kissed her, then kissed her again, but he didn’t move.
“Rhys,” she begged.
He brushed her hair back from her face, and she saw the edge of reddish-gold in his eyes, the first hint of his change. An instinctual quiver of fear moved through her, though she knew he’d never hurt her, and his nostrils flared, the black of his eyes narrowing further.
Strange eyes stared down at her, but it was still Rhys. When he spoke, his voice was smoke and fire, but it was still him. Just, more.
“I’m keeping you,” he said. And then he began to move.
Last time, at work, they’d been a storm, crashing against each other. It had been hot and quick and tempestuous and amazing.
This time, they were like the tide. Slow and long and inevitable. Their bodies slid against each other, slick with sweat. Instead of grabbing, hands stroked and caressed and explored.
Their
mouths only parted to breathe, and then only briefly. Each time he withdrew from her, she chased him, lifting her hips. He followed her back down, pressing her into the soft mattress.
Cassandra didn’t know if it was because that first thrust of his cock had come in the midst of her orgasm, or just that it was Rhys, but the pleasure never seemed to stop. It built and built, every twist of his hips and flicker of his tongue feeding the flame. Every word he whispered in her ear — sweet, filthy, tender, and dirty — added fuel to the fire.
She wrapped herself around him, twining her legs tight around his waist, pulling him into her again and again. She reveled in how he stretched her and filled her, the perfect hot slide of his flesh against hers.
“Rhys.”
She chanted his name, telling him all the things she’d been holding back since that day in her office. Earlier, really. Since they’d met.
He responded to each whispered revelation with deeper, harder thrusts and more passionate kisses. His hands stroked every inch of her, learning her by touch.
She was burning, her skin like ash, ready to crumble with pleasure.
Cassandra met Rhys’s dragon eyes and let that winding, tightening, building pleasure spiral out and higher. Her body clenched, squeezing him with rhythmic, fluttering pulses.
She cried out, the words garbled between their lips.
His thrusts grew harder, more rapid, that familiar rumbling swelling in his throat. He rode her through the long waves of pleasure as she fell apart, and then he followed her. Cassandra felt the throb of his thick shaft, the flood of heat.
Just as he’d done when he’d come inside her at the office, Rhys roared his satisfaction.
She held him as he shook and poured himself into her, stroking shaking fingers down tense, sweat-slick flesh.
They collapsed, quiet and breathless, into a soft, warm, boneless heap.
Rhys rubbed a kiss along her jaw, his voice a bass rasp in her ear. “Don’t think I didn’t hear what you said, little rabbit.”
Cassandra smiled against his damp shoulder. She’d wondered if he would understand her whimpered confession, if he’d acknowledge it. She licked the salt from his skin, tasting smoke and sweetness and Rhys.
“Good. And do you know what else, my dragon?”
He sifted fingers through her hair, his obsidian irises sparkling. “What’s that, rabbit?”
She kissed him, hard and sharp, her answering grin just as toothy and feral as his ever was.
“I’m keeping you, too.”
THE END
Thank You
I hope you have enjoyed this book. As a new author in the big world of publishing, it’s hard to get noticed. I’d love if you would leave me an honest review.
Thank you for downloading my book!
–Olivia Myers