A Destiny of Dragons (Tales From Verania #2)(50)

“Not yet,” I said, pushing my hips forward again. “You can hold on for just a little bit longer, can’t you?”

He shook his head back and forth.

“I think you can,” I said, squeezing his wrists tighter, the way I knew he liked.

He tried to buck his hips up, but I pushed them back again, his dick sliding against my stomach as I rolled myself down again.

“I’m ready,” he panted. “I promise. I’m ready.”

I leaned forward and brushed my lips against his. I kissed my way down his jaw to his neck. He turned his head to allow me better access. I sucked on the skin near his collarbone, just low enough that I knew any mark would be hidden by his uniform. That was a lesson learned the first time we started this thing between us. Not only was it unprofessional (which Morgan scolded me for while the King just laughed at me), but Ryan’s knights weren’t exactly a subtle bunch, and they gave him as much crap as they possibly could.

He was begging me for more, begging me to fuck him, to just fuck him godsdammit, and I knew he’d reached his breaking point. The lovely flush had crawled down his neck to his chest and stomach, skin overheating as he tried to wriggle against the friction.

“Just fucking get on with it,” he snarled at me, teeth bared. “Just fucking do it if you’re going to do it, gods.”

And oh. Oh. That’s how it was going to be. He was goading me, and he knew I knew, but I was too far gone to care. It gave me something back, lording over him like this, making him squirm until he was pleading for me to fuck him. I don’t know why, and I certainly hadn’t expected anything between us to bloom like this.

But it did, and he was provoking me.

There was green and gold, and my magic said, mineminemine. He let out a happy groan when I dropped my grip on his wrists and flipped him over. He went willingly, knowing what he’d been working me toward. I knocked his legs apart with my knees while he pulled himself up on all fours, resting his weight on his elbows, face pressed to the side against the pillow.

He jerked his head forward when I breached him with my fingers, two, then three, working them in and out of his hole. “I’m good,” he chanted. “I’m good, Sam, I’m good,” and I slapped his ass, just once, in warning and he stopped. He breathed into the pillow, letting me do what I wanted.

There was a fourth finger, but it only lasted a moment before he growled at me to get on with it. I pulled my hand out and lined myself up, pushing down on his back, causing his chest to hit the bed and his hips to cant up toward me. The muscles in his back twitched as I pushed my cock into him. He sighed and closed his eyes, pushing his hips back toward me slowly until I was pressed flush against him. I waited a beat, and then another one. And another. Then he nodded, just once, a barely there thing as he breathed through his nose. I brought my hips back out and in again, fucking into him as I held him down.

It didn’t take long for him to start those little sounds again, those little noises of grunts and please and more, I can take more. He gasped, eyes flying open, as I angled my hips differently.

“I bet he can hear you,” I said through gritted teeth. “Ruv. You think he can hear you? I bet he can. Groaning like that. Saying my name. Acting like my cornerstone.”

Ryan growled low in his throat, probably a little pissed that I would even say that name while we were fucking. He pushed himself up onto his hands and bowed his back, meeting me thrust for thrust. I slowed down my own movements, letting him fuck himself on my dick. I ran my hand up his back until I reached his hair, curling my fingers into it, getting a good solid grip. I pulled, arching his back even further and fucked into him again. The muscles in his arm bulged as he dug his fingers into the blankets.

I felt a little drunk, a side effect of the magic and the bond between us. It always hit hard in moments like this, making me feel detached and floating but like I was still tethered to him. His grunts were becoming louder, careening us both toward the end. I tugged on his hair sharply, and he pushed himself up until his back was flush against my chest. The angle was awkward, the mattress too soft to allow me to do anything but thrust shallowly.

But it was enough. As soon as my hand was around his dick, still sticky with oil, I only had to fuck into him two or three more times before he was coming over my hand, a strangled moan falling from his mouth. His ass squeezed around my cock, and I pushed up into him as deep as I could, sank my teeth into the meat of his shoulder, and shot off inside him.

All that green. All that gold.

How it sang.




I CLEANED him up as best I could, knowing he’d be sore and sticky still in the morning. He didn’t seem to care, a blissed-out look on his face as I stripped the comforter off the bed and threw it to the floor. The fireplace kept away the worst of the chill, but one learned to ignore the cold when living in a castle. The drafts were always there, even during the summer. When the snows came in winter around All Hallowed Day, the fires never went out.

I pulled the blankets up and over us, tucking into his side. His leg came up and over mine, arm around me pulling me close. I rested my head on his shoulder, face pressed against his neck. I was drawing circles on his chest, and I felt his heart beating underneath my touch. I loved that heart, almost more than anything else in the world. It was important to me.

I said, “You know you have nothing to worry about, right?”