“Taken care of yourself,” Ellieth said promptly. She smiled over at him until his lips curved in a response.
“You think so?”
“You could breathe fire at the time,” she pointed out. “So yes, I think so.”
“A good point.”
Silence fell between them, and Ellieth trailed her fingers through the water.
“It was very brave, what you did,” she said at last.
“Oh?”
“Yes. You knew it was a trap, and you knew what he would threaten to tell your father… but you went anyway, because you believed peace was so important.” She raised one eyebrow. “And maybe just a little bit to prove you could beat your brother.”
“Am I that obvious?” He had closed his eyes again, and did not open them now. He sounded aggrieved.
“Yes. You may be centuries old, but brothers will always be brothers. If Allina…” Her throat closed. If Allina had betrayed her so, what would she do?
Savin saw her fear.
“Allina is as likely to turn into a bowl of fruit as she is to betray you,” he assured Ellieth.
“Thank you for that.” She gave a gasp when he took her hand and pulled her through the water to sit on his lap. “I…”
“You’re blushing.”
“It’s the heat of the water.”
“I’m sure it is.” One arm came around her waist and the other rose, dripping, to bring her face close to his. “So, wife. It seems we must start over.”
“Yes.” She could barely make her voice work. She was drowning in his black eyes, lost in the sensation of his skin against her own and the comforting strength of the arm that held her easily in place.
“As I recall, you said it was most important to charm me.” There was a laugh rising up in his voice.
“Are you making fun of me?”
“Not at all.” His voice was a purr now. “Tell me… do all human women go to such lengths to charm their husbands?”
“I, er…” She blushed at the thought of the very extensive instructions she’d received from the ladies of the human court, then giggled. There had been a great deal of advice to lie back and stare at the ceiling, none of which seemed especially necessary when her husband was now trailing his fingers lightly over her throat, brushing along the line of her collarbone, his eyes bright with possibilities that made her breath come short. “No one said anything about flying up mountainsides with dragons. Or fighting off treasonous younger brothers.”
“Are you sure? You seem very good at it.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I was going to recommend that every man in the Elven court find a human woman to marry.”
Ellieth’s laugh rang out over the pools.
“What about the Elven women?”
“I hadn’t thought that far ahead. But I suppose they’ll have to marry the human men. I think it will be popular— they all seemed quite charmed by your kind.”
“We are very charming.” Ellieth’s mouth was twitching.
“You are, indeed.” And he pulled her close for a kiss, his lips moving against hers as his arm tightened around her waist.
Ellieth heard herself gasp. Her arms were around his neck, and she was dizzy with the mix of steam and the cold air, the feel of the rocks and Savin’s skin beneath her fingers. Her lips parted for his tongue, and the kiss deepened until she swore she could not have told up from down, or said if it was night or day. She could see only one thing, feel only one thing.
“Savin.” A prayer. A dream. None of this seemed real.
“Ellieth…” His fingers trailed down her arm and dipped below the water to cup her hip, and slide along her legs.
“Should we…” She lost her train of thought when his lips found the soft skin of her throat. She arched against him as his arm tightened, and his other hand crept up to her breast. “Savin, please, we should go inside—”
“Oh, I don’t think anyone will bother us out here, do you?” His breath brushed against her skin. He was tracing his tongue along her collarbone, and he groaned when she tangled her fingers in his black hair. “After all, the court knows we came here for our honeymoon.”
Her laughter rang out into the clear air, and she brought his face up to hers for a kiss.
“Yes, of course. A very good point, husband.”
“I thought so,” he said smugly. His fingers traced down, around a nipple, and then he lifted her, so she could straddle him, pressing the length of their bodies together. “My God, Ellieth… I have wanted this since the first moment I saw you.”
“I have also—” Ellieth broke off with a cry. She could feel his fingers drifting lower, between her legs. When they slipped inside, she forgot how to breathe. “Savin, what are you…”
“Shhh.” His mouth covered hers, the arm around her waist holding her in place effortlessly as his fingers worked their magic. “Yes. Move your hips.”
“What are you doing?” Ellieth whispered. Her hips were moving, though she swore it was through no volition of her own. Pleasure was heating her blood and she only wanted more. She pressed against Savin’s fingers, whimpering, and bit her lip when they withdrew. But they were back in a moment, parting her, and she felt him press against her.
He waited, only his absolute stillness giving away the strength of his desire. His fingers curled around her hips, and he waited until she nodded before pressing her down along his length.
“Oh, my God.” Ellieth rocked her hips forward against him and gasped with the sensation. She had never felt such a thing. She felt herself clench, tight, around him and he groaned. He wanted more, and she flushed at the thought of it— wanting the same, and not knowing what that meant.
He showed her the way, his hips rising to meet hers so that he drove deep inside her. Ellieth heard herself moaning as her hips moved with his. She could not form her lips to any word other than please, over and over, and from his low laugh, he was more than happy to oblige.
She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth to stifle her cries. That the monks might hear, that other pilgrims might come into the gardens, should have turned her cold— but it was only a goad to her pleasure, making her greedy for more. When Savin’s fingers brushed between her legs once more, finding a place exquisitely sensitive, Ellieth had to bite down on her hand to keep herself from screaming. She was so slick inside, so wet, and as the pleasure built, she could hardly think beyond wanting more.
Something was building inside her, and she did not know what, knew only that she was desperate for it. His pace increased, and she moved her hips with his.
“Savin.”
“Give into it,” he murmured in her ear, his voice sending pleasure down her spine. “Let the pleasure take you. Come for me, Ellieth.”
The command was clear, and she did not even have time to ask what he meant before she tipped over the edge into oblivion, shuddering around him. Her nails scored down his back, and his arms tightened around her, and she felt the answering rush of his own pleasure. He poured into her, buried to the hilt, and she cried his name with her release as the pleasure spiraled out, and she lost herself in him.
When she came back to herself, her head was lying on his shoulder, and his fingers were playing idly over her skin. She shifted her hips and felt pleasure ripple through her once more, and he gave a sound that was half-laugh, half-growl.
“Mine,” he said softly.
“Mine,” Ellieth agreed, laying her palm against his chest.
She gave a startled gasp when his hips moved.
“Ready for more?” He asked her.
“Yes.” Ellieth raised her head and kissed him deeply, writhing her hips against his. “Show me everything.”
The End
BONUS
Thank you for supporting this book. To extend your reading pleasure, here is a selection of romance books that you may like.
Enjoy!
Bad Boy Romance
Part I
Fight For Love
Romantic Com
edy
Chapter One
By the time Jasmine stormed into Gentleman Jackson’s Boxing Club, she’d had a full forty-five minutes for her anger to pick up steam, and she was in no mood to do anything other than cry her eyes out over a glass of wine. She was exhausted. She had just spent ten hours at the hospital, and hadn’t even had the chance to change out of her scrubs before Emma peeked out of her bedroom and announced that Michael had gone off somewhere to do boxing, of all things.
Boxing? Jasmine knew what that meant. It meant bruises, scrapes, violence, and concussions…if this was, in fact, boxing and not just some makeshift fighting ring someone had set up in an alleyway. It took her ten minutes to find out from Michael’s friends where he went, and another half hour to take the requisite busses. Now that she was here, she was far from amused by the pretentious name of the boxing club. The mortified look on Michael’s face only partially made up for it all.
“Michael.” Her voice was a hiss.
“Um…” Michael, sixteen and unusually thin—some people had all the luck—looked like he wanted to melt through the floor at being confronted by his older sister, in front of all of his boxing buddies.
Jasmine would have thought that was funny, but she cringed at the thought of what they were all seeing. Her wild mess of curls was only partially held back with a headband and an elastic, she was still wearing scrubs with God only knew what on them, and there wasn’t a scrap of makeup on her face. In clubs, in the right light, with makeup and jewelry, she looked almost okay. Right now, she was just chubby and disheveled. She swallowed, trying to decide whether to cut and run.
Like hell she was going to be shamed by a bunch of sixteen year olds. They could be polite to her, or she would teach them a thing or two about boxing. She swept her eyes over the group and was pleased to see that all of them quailed.
Or…all but one of them.
“May I help you?” The voice was a drawl. When her head jerked around, she saw him. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. A banner over his head proclaimed an upcoming tournament, and he was smiling at her. He had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.
“Yes,” Jasmine said promptly, scowling. Those blue eyes were set above chiseled cheekbones, a mouth far too full and sensual for a man’s face, and a jaw just as chiseled as the cheekbones. His nose might have the slight irregularity that came from having been broken more than once, but looking at the self-satisfied smile on the man’s face, all Jasmine could think was that he must have deserved it. “What is going on here?”
“You must be Michael’s older sister.” He gave a smile and looked out over the crowd of boys. “Pushups and sit-ups, everyone. You too, Michael.”
“No, he’s coming home with—”
He ushered her over to the side wall. “What seems to be the problem?”
“The problem?” Jasmine glared at him. “Okay. The problem is that my younger brother is not at home doing his homework and waiting for dinner, he is here, getting beaten up so that he can come home covered in bruises, with a concussion, start fighting all the time at school, worry our mother, and probably drop out before he can apply to a college.”
“That’s a lot to assume from the fact that he’s trying MMA.” The man didn’t look exactly pleased. His white tee-shirt stretched snugly over bulging biceps as he folded his arms and stared her down.
“What the hell is MMA?”
“Mixed Martial Arts,” he explained tiredly. “It’s a fighting style that combines Muay Thai with Jiu-Jitsu, boxing, some Tae Kwon—”
“So, fighting.” Jasmine crossed her own arms. “You’re teaching him to fight.”
“You have a problem with that?”
“Of course I have a problem with it!” She was going to punch him if he kept smiling at her like that. He was a pretty-boy, used to getting everything he wanted when he flashed those blue eyes, and she was sure as hell not going to fall for that. She pointed one finger over at the boys doing sit-ups and pushups, and leaned closer to hiss at the instructor. “Michael is smart. He might be a sixteen-year-old, but he’s a good kid. He doesn’t fight in school. He gets good grades. I’m not going to let him mess that up.”
The man sighed and leaned his head forward, running one hand over the back of his scalp. When he looked up, his eyes were more direct, and grave, than she expected.
“Look. I grew up in Detroit, okay? So I’m not just…some rich guy coming here to tell you how to behave. You know how hard it is for kids like your brother. I’m not making him violent, I’m giving him an outlet—the same outlet that saved me. Look over there. They’re not doing drugs, they’re not joining gangs—well, most of them. I’m working on it. These are good kids. They’re doing something physical, something good for their bodies, and they’re getting out a lot of the anger they can’t get rid of any other good way.”
“This isn’t a good way!”
“Why not? Did you hear a word I just said?” He shook his head, looking away. “Maybe you don’t get it, but I do. I needed this when I was younger, just like they need it now. It kept me out of way worse things. It taught me to push for something. It gave me something to achieve. That saved my life.”
“Well, maybe it saved your life, but Michael has things to push for. He’s going to be more than just a boxer.”
“What’s wrong with being a boxer?”
“He’s going to spend half his life beat up! When he gets older, he’s going to start forgetting things.”
“Most people do.”
“You know what I mean!” Her shout echoed, and the boys looked over. Jasmine clenched her hands.
“Hey. I’m not going to let him be harmed.” His voice was unexpectedly gentle. “I have rules about that. No head strikes in sparring here. I don’t do any of the crazier Muay Thai stuff.”
“Oh, yeah? He’s covered in bruises.”
“Bruises heal.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“I don’t want his teachers thinking he’s turning into one of those boys.” Her voice was rising again.
“Lady, what is your problem?”
“What’s my problem?” She clenched one hand in her hair. “Are you serious? Okay. Well, here’s something. Our dad died of cancer eight years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not finished. We never got out from under that debt. You know how much we owe now? Three hundred thousand dollars. You know how we’re going to pay that off? We aren’t. My mom works three jobs, and she’s too sick to be working at all. The chemicals she works with at the cleaning job are ruining her. She thinks I don’t know that she’s dying, but I do.” Jasmine could hear the tears building up in her voice and she knew she should just walk away, but she couldn’t seem to stop talking. “I graduated a year early so I could go to nursing school. It’s steady work, okay? And for the past four years, I have been trying as hard as I can to get my brother and sister through school so they can get the hell out of here. So they don’t end up working cleaning jobs. So they don’t get stuck here for the rest of their damned lives, paying off someone else’s debt! And I was doing fine, by the way.” She felt tears escape her eyes and dashed them away angrily. “I told you Michael’s smart. Well, he’s scientist smart. He looks at math and he just gets it. He’s too smart to be stuck around here, and even if he wasn’t I’d try to get him out. And Sarah? She’s got the prettiest voice, but she’s studying up to get her nursing degree, too. They’re smart. They’re pulling their weight. They’re going to get out.” She glared at this man, this smug man who’d come in to tell her how fighting wasn’t going to ruin her brother. “I’m not going to let you mess this up for him. Because you know what? Losing him would actually kill my mom.”
She turned on her heel and marched away before he could say anything else. She knew Michael’s bag and so she snatched it up from the side.
“Come on. We’re going.”
“But—”
“Now.”
At least he didn’t contradict her
. He hung his head as he pulled on his tee-shirt, and he followed her humbly out into the cold.
“Where’s your coat?”
“I didn’t bring one.”
“Are you entirely stupid?” Jasmine rounded on him, and felt the tears start again. She squeezed her eyes shut. “I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry. Michael…what are you doing? What is this?”
“I just…like it.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s hard not to get angry sometimes. It isn’t fair that dad died. It isn’t fair that—” He shook his head. “But when I’m here, I can forget about it—and then sometimes I feel better for hours. Days. I’m still getting As, Jazzy.”
“That guy?” Jasmine jerked her head at the gym. “He’s bad news.”
“No, he’s really nice. He—”
“He’s bad news,” Jasmine repeated. “And I don’t want you going back there.”
Chapter Two
There was a silence as the door slammed shut behind the two of them, the woman ushered her younger brother out into the evening dark and all of the other boys stared after them. Then someone started laughing.
“Mike got in trouble!”
They were all joining in, shoving each other and shouting jokes over the noise, until Tyler pounded on the wall for them to be quiet. He had been so consumed in staring after her that he’d let the joking go on far too long. Those eyes, those lips…
They stared at him, and he tried to remember how to speak.
“All that talk means people aren’t working hard enough!” He let his eyes sweep over all of them, and then pointed to the back wall. “Sprints. Come on.”
“This is boxing, not running!”
“This is MMA, not boxing—and go on, just try to get in the ring without being fit, huh?” Tyler let his genuine amusement show in his face. “You’ll be on YouTube forever.”
Married to the Dragon Page 4