by Dixon, Ruby
The other? My copy of Outlander? Oh. “You got me a book?” My heart squeezes with affection.
Of course. Whatever will please my mate. His eyes gleam as he hunches down and squats next to me on the ground. Did I do well?
“Very well,” I whisper, determined not to cry out of happiness. He doesn't really understand the concept of “happy tears” just yet. “Thank you so much, Rast. You're the best.”
I know.
I bite back a smile. “Today was wonderful. I hope you weren't too bored.”
He tilts his head and studies me, that gorgeous waterfall of golden hair sliding over his shoulder. Bored? I had my mate at my side and she was full of joy. How can anything about that be boring?
I sniff. How indeed. “You just might be the best thing that ever happened to me, you know that?”
Instead of being pleased at my compliment, he looks a little on edge. My mate, do not mistake me for a good male. I am not kind or unselfish. I do these things for you because it brings me pleasure to see you so happy.
“I know you may think you’re a monster, but you’re not,” I tell him, and when he reaches out to caress my face, I lean in to his palm. “You can tell me how terrible you are all you want, but I know the truth.” And the truth is that my dragon is amazing and kind and loving and all of the things I ever hoped for when I tossed my panties into the grass those months ago.
He grunts. I cannot persuade you to see the truth, then. He sounds amused more than annoyed, though, as if it secretly pleases him that I think he’s amazing. You are tired, is all he says. Do you wish to bathe? I can hold you so your leg does not pain you.
Another sweet offer. I beam up at him and shake my head, clutching my book to my chest. “I’d like to do a little reading before bed. You can light my candles for me?”
Rast gives another surly grunt. I know he’s not a big fan of the candles because they’re scented and they bother his nose, but he understands that I don’t want to sit in the dark for hours on end. Come then, he says, moving to my side and scooping me up into his arms. Your leg bothers you.
I lean against his chest dreamily as he carries me to bed. “My leg always bothers me. Just do what I do and try to ignore it.”
I cannot. Your pain tears at me.
I feel guilty at that. I know he’s attuned to my emotions, just like Kael is to Claudia, and I know that my moods can affect him. If I’m upset, he gets that black swamp in his eyes that tell me he’s close to losing his control. I can only imagine how my constant pain must be irritating to him. “I’m sorry. I hate that you have a crippled mate. You deserve better.”
Rast growls, the sound so loud and angry that it startles me, my heart hammering in my chest. His eyes flick black for a moment before sliding back to a more comfortable gold. Amy, never say such things. You are my mate. There is none better than you. If you lined up twenty of the most perfect drakoni females with fierce eyes and bright scales, I would still choose you every time. You are the one for me.
Now I feel my silly, sentimental tears close to flooding to the front again. He’s so good to me. I do my best to blink them away as he gently lays me down in the bed and then blows on one candle to light it. He fluffs my pillows and hovers until he’s sure that I’m comfortable, and then caresses my cheek before wandering away from the candle and moving to the edge of the gaping hole, where the air is freshest.
I watch him go, his naked body taut and full of rippling muscle. God, he’s so good to look at.
I’m so lucky.
That thought keeps racing through my head over and over as I crack open the book—the book he got me, because he thinks of me—and smooth my hand over one of the dry, musty pages. I’m filled with so much love for Rast that I want to do something to please him. He’s spent the day doting on me and I want to give him pleasure, too. I try to stare at the pages of the Grisham novel, but all I can think about is sex.
Rast and I should definitely have sex again.
I peek over the book at him, but his back is still to me. It’s clear that he’s not listening to my thoughts at the moment, because if he was, he’d probably be over here licking my pussy. He’s done that so many times in the last few days that my toes curl just thinking about it. Gosh, I am so stinking lucky. I want to do the same for him…
The idea flares into my mind like a comet.
It can’t be that hard to give a guy a blow job. Mouth. Tongue. Enthusiasm. I’ve read lots of romance novels that describe it in great detail. I’m sure I can manage. And he loves to go down on me…why can’t I return the favor? I’m excited at the thought, not just because I get to touch him, but because I get to surprise him in such a sexy way.
I put my book aside and blow out the candle. “I’m tired. Come to bed.”
In the darkness, he slinks back to the bed and I feel the weight of him press down on the mattress. Excitement washes through me and I wait for him to settle under the blankets before leaning over and pressing a kiss to his mouth.
Rast grunts with pleasure at my spontaneity and tongues me with enthusiasm, trying to take the lead as he always does. Kissing him is so good and so very distracting, but I have a mission and I don't want to get sidetracked. I put a hand on his chest and push him gently back, then peel the blankets away from his body.
Is something wrong? he asks, curious. I can tell from his thoughts he has no idea what I'm doing, and it's charming and funny both at once. I feel him probe at my mind, trying to pick up hints, and since I know I'm bad at keeping things from him, there's no time to hesitate or feel girly and shy. I slide my hand to his cock, caressing it boldly, and then move my body down the bed.
Before I can put my mouth on his cock, he goes stiff against me and I feel a flare of intense displeasure in his mind. He jerks away from me. What is it you do, my mate?
Well, I didn't expect that response. I can feel the embarrassed flush creeping up my cheeks, but I'm determined not to feel ashamed. He loves tasting me, why wouldn't I love the same? “I want to suck on your cock,” I tell him, feeling all kinds of brave for getting the words out without choking. “Until you come.”
In the moonlit shadows of our dark bedroom, his eyes flash dark before swimming to gold again. Why would you do such a thing?
“Because I like touching you?” Now my feelings really are starting to get hurt. “Is that such a terrible thing?”
You know it is not terrible at all, he tells me, and moves forward, his hand caressing my neck as he moves close to me again. He presses a kiss to my brow and my nose, peppering attention across my face. Let me touch you and I will show you how pleasant I find your body.
I push him away, because I need to understand this. “Rast, why is it okay for you to touch me but not for me to touch you? I don't understand.” I put my hand on his chest. “I want to touch you. More than that, I want to taste you. Why is that bad?”
He pulls my hand from his chest and brings it to his mouth, pressing his lips there. I do not understand why you would insult yourself so, my Amy. I cannot bear the thought of it. No matter how you think of yourself, I will not let such a thing happen.
Insult myself? “Now I'm really confused. What do you mean, insult myself?”
I can feel the confusion swirl in his thoughts. By forcing me to spill myself outside of your cunt?
“Why is that bad? I kind of thought it would be sexy.”
He leans in and his gaze meets mine. It is the gravest of insults a courting male can give a female. Amongst the drakoni, a male never spills inside a female unless she is his chosen mate. After a challenge is won and the female submits, he can claim her body. If he does not wish to take her as his permanent mate, though, he pulls out and spills his seed on her back, letting it go to waste. There is no greater shame. It tells her that he does not find her worthy. He caresses my cheek. I would not do such a thing to you.
Wow, that's…strange. “Have you courted many females?” I can't help but ask, feeling a stab of jealousy at the thou
ght of him touching a strong, pretty drakoni woman with gold hair and equally golden skin.
A few. But I have never given my seed to anyone but you.
I'm going to ignore how green with jealousy I am at the moment and remind myself that it's a compliment. He's never wanted anyone but me since he saw me, and those other faceless women with two good legs aren't a threat. I stroke my hand up and down his chest, feeling the scorching warmth of his skin. “But that's your people,” I tell him, more determined than ever to get my way. “Amongst my people, it's considered sexy to take a man in your mouth and pleasure him until he comes.”
He growls furiously and his hand knots in my hair, holding me against him. His nose presses against mine and I get the impression of just-tethered violence. Not directed at me—but at the men he's imagining. And have you pleasured males like this?
“Never,” I whisper. I'm not afraid of him. I know he'd never harm me. I actually find his intense possessiveness arousing. No one's ever wanted me so badly that they nearly lost their shit at a hint of my mouth going on another man. “I want you to be my first. My only.”
He groans. I will give you anything, my Amy…but not that. It feels wrong.
“It's not wrong,” I whisper to him, and then lightly brush my tongue over his lips in a tease. “Haven't you ever touched yourself until you came? I know you have. Remember what you did to my dress when we met?”
The image flashes through my mind, of him bunching up the fabric and fucking it like he wanted to fuck me. He remembers that, too. I can feel the heat surging through his thoughts, and it's making me all aroused. That is different.
“It is different,” I agree. “Because instead of your hand—or my dress—I'd use my mouth to pleasure you.” And I send him a visual that makes him groan.
But still he denies me. I refuse.
My hurt feelings are gone, but now I just think he's not being very fun. “You could tease yourself for me.”
I will not. It is the same thing. The look he gives me is stern. All of my seed is yours now. I will wait to spill inside you.
It's not that I don't want that, of course. I love him being inside me. But I don't want to take no for an answer when it comes to this. The more he refuses and looks flustered, the bolder it makes me. For once, I have the upper hand in bed and it's a heady feeling.
I feel very bold as I slide a hand between my legs, determined to entice him. “Come on,” I whisper, a tempting note in my tone. “Now you won't even play at all. Want me to show you how sexy it can be to touch yourself for your partner?”
And even though my heart is pounding and I'm half panicked at the thought of being so very forward, I'm also ridiculously excited and I love that I have him all agitated. I touch my pussy and slide my hand over my folds.
His nostrils flare, as if he's picking up my scent, and his gaze locks on mine.
I love how intensely he looks at me. I also love that hand that's clenched in my hair, as if he can't bring himself to let me go. That's sexy, too. I rub my hand up and down on the curls of my pussy, and then delicately part them, teasing a finger over my folds. I'm not surprised to find that I'm wet. My thoughts for the last few minutes have been utterly filthy, and it doesn't take much to make me aroused lately. Just being with him is an aphrodisiac of sorts, and I love it. I stroke my finger over my folds, and when my lips part, I notice his do, too. He's watching me so intensely that he can't help but mimic what I'm doing, as if my pleasure is feeding his.
I circle a finger around my clit and a shudder rocks through me. “Mmmm, Rast.”
He growls low in his throat, pressing his forehead to mine again. Say my name once more. Just like that.
“Rast,” I breathe, and the sound is as sultry as I feel. Our faces are pressed together, his gaze locked to mine, and his body is so close that I can feel the heat of him radiating next to me. I lift one foot and rub it against his leg, feeling the slight spines that line the backs of them like his arm spines. Just touching him makes the masturbation fiercer, and I drag my foot over his skin once more before circling my clit again.
I gasp and have to stop, because if I keep going, I'm going to come really fast. My breasts feel achy with need, and I lean in and rub the tips against his chest. I'm using him to get off, and it makes me feel so very…powerful. I love the sexy little growl he gives, too, as if he realizes exactly what I'm doing. I'm tormenting him in the most fun way possible.
“You're missing out,” I whisper to him as I dip my fingers down the wet channel of my pussy and into the entrance of my core, where I'm slickest. I caress my entrance and then drag the wetness back up to my clit, teasing it again. The added lubrication makes everything feel better and I'm gasping with need as I tease my clit. “Been so long since I've done this,” I tell him. “I couldn't touch myself while I was in hiding.” My breathing is rasping, and it's getting harder to form complete thoughts as I keep touching myself, drawing little circles around my clit. It doesn't feel as good as his tongue, but I know how to tease myself with a rhythm that will get me off quickly. “If I did,” I pant, “Someone might smell all the juices on my cunt and come looking for me. So I couldn't touch myself while I waited for you. I had to save it.”
His nostrils flare again and he groans, closing his eyes when I slick my fingers over my folds and it makes a wet sound. God, I didn't realize I was so very wet doing this. Wet for him.
“Rast,” I pant again. “Want to watch me come? I'm so close.” I arch my hips, rubbing my body up against his as I move toward the pinnacle.
Mine, he snarls in my head, and then he pushes me onto my back, his hands going to my rocking hips. He slides between my legs and buries his face in my pussy, frantically licking at my wet heat. This is mine, my Amy. Mine to pleasure. Mine to taste. There's such possessiveness in his thoughts, such intense need that it's like a bomb detonates inside me. I cry out as he sucks on my clit, and then he's snarling and rubbing his face against my folds, trying to drag out my orgasm. His mind is awash with possessive need, as if he's jealous of my hands for touching what's his, and I've never felt so sexy or cherished even as he wrings wave after wave of the orgasm from me with his tongue. My thighs clench and jerk against his shoulders, and he keeps tonguing me with his ferocious devotion long after I've come down from the wave, as if he's determined to send me back there again before I can catch my breath.
“Rast,” I gasp. “Stop. Please.” I'm trembling with every swipe of his tongue because it feels like he's never going to quit. He's just going to lick my pussy until I melt into a puddle of sated woman. “Let me do you now.” I send him mental images of me leaning over him as he sprawls out on the bed, his hand in my hair, feeding his cock to me.
He lifts his head then, his eyes so gold that they're shining like beacons in the moonlight. You wish for my seed?
God, yes. I don't even speak it aloud. I'm too busy whimpering with need.
He nuzzles my pussy. And are you still bruised here? His tongue skates lower, flicking against my core before teasing the entrance.
I moan, my head thrown back. I don't care if I am. I want you so much.
I care. I do not want you to hurt.
It only hurts because you won't fill me up. Please, Rast. I need you.
He gives another growl that sounds sexy and delicious all at once and then he's pushing my thighs apart. Eager, I put my hands on his shoulders and kiss him with all the need and fierce desire I feel.
Wait, he tells me as I tug my good leg around his hips. I must turn you over so I can mount you.
“We can do it like this,” I whisper to him, realizing that we've never made love face to face. He always flips me over. Another dragon thing, I wonder? “It's not naughty,” I promise. “And you can still give me all of your seed.”
Rast groans and closes his eyes, as if pushed beyond his limits. Your…your people mate like this? I can feel the strain in his thoughts, and it makes me even hotter.
“Oh yes,” I breathe, running a ha
nd down his chest. “We can look at each other as we mate. I'd love to do that. To look at you.” Not that the other way isn't hot, too. But this just feels more…intimate.
He settles his weight on top of me and I realize I've won whatever argument this was. He moves over me and it feels so strange to have a man on top of me like this, but so very nice, too. I hold him close, wanting to touch him everywhere. I hate that my bad leg aches and is too weak for me to put it around his hips, because I like the thought of wrapping my entire body around him and being nothing but a circle of twined limbs.
You are perfect, he tells me as he leans in to kiss me again. I do not care about your leg and how strong or weak it is. All I care about is Amy, my mate, my fires. His tongue slicks against mine even as I feel the heat of him press against the entrance to my core. And I am going to claim you.
“All yours,” I whisper, and I mean it. I'm completely and utterly Rast's. I don't even care that there's no fairy-tale prince. I don't care that my dragon isn't the kind and gentle soul I imagined he'd be. He's everything I ever wanted and he makes me feel so beautiful and special. Even if that handsome prince showed up tomorrow, I'd want to be with Rast. He may not be what I thought, but he's perfect for me and he's helping me become a better, stronger person.
He pushes into me with one of those low rumbles in his chest, and then I'm gasping at the tight sensation. It's been days and days since we had sex—real, going-all-the-way sex—and I thought it wouldn't hurt this time. It doesn't, not really, but I can't deny that it's a little uncomfortable.
Rast stiffens over me, his gaze worried.
I smile up at him. “I'm fine.” And as soon as I say it, I realize that it's true. There was an initial twinge, but it's gone almost immediately and it's left behind nothing but the pure sensation of feeling completely filled by him. I feel like I've been speared all the way to my heart, like he's possessing me one inch at a time.