About a Dragon (Dragon Kin #2)(44)

When Briec did finally say something, it startled them both—but not Talaith.

“Where’s the bread?”

Turning the page of her book, but not looking at him, she said, “I finished it.”

“You didn’t save me any?”

“Is that my role now? I’m supposed to save you food? If you wanted it you should have claimed it.”

Gwenvael looked at Éibhear and his brother shrugged helplessly. He remembered quite clearly after Annwyl and Fearghus’ first time together, how the two of them f**ked constantly and anywhere convenient. Going at it relentlessly.

Perhaps the bedding between these two hadn’t been as amazing as Gwenvael first thought.

“Would it kill you to not keep the food all to yourself, like a rat storing for winter?”

“Would it kill you not to eat as if it’s your last meal? Is sharing with others so inconceivable to you? Should I add that to the list with ‘please’ and ‘I’m sorry’?”

“Only if you add ‘glutton’ to your list of ‘never shuts up’.”

Talaith gave an almost royal wave of her hand. “I’m done with this conversation.” She shoved her chair back and stood. “And I’m done with you.”

“Conversation too much of a challenge, m’lady?”

“More like too boring. Kind of like you.”

“Now if you gentlemen,” she looked at Briec, “and whatever you are, will excuse me.”

She turned and walked out.

“What is wrong with you?” Éibhear snapped.

Briec looked truly confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Why were you so mean to her?”

Briec stood. “I wasn’t mean to her. I was arguing with her. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go discover—to my horror—that the little witch hasn’t made the bed.”

He grinned and Gwenvael knew exactly what was going on. He shook his head in disgust. Never. He would never get this way over any female—ever.

Unfortunately, Éibhear was still confused. “You never make your bed, Briec. Mostly because we rarely sleep in beds.”

Briec sighed and shook his head. As he walked out, the mighty erection straining the front of his black breeches leading the way no doubt, he tossed over his shoulder to Gwenvael, “Explain it to the pup, would you? I’m busy.”

Éibhear frowned. “Explain what to me?”

* * *

She squealed as he threw her back on the bed. “Didn’t I say I wanted this bed made?”

Lifting herself up on her elbows, “You most certainly did not. And I’m not a servant. You want the bed made…make it yourself!”

The dragon growled at her and Talaith squealed again, trying to scramble away. He grabbed hold of her ankles and yanked her to the foot of the bed.

“Get off me.”

“No. You need a good lesson, I think. Saucy wench.”

He flipped her onto her stomach and dragged her back until only her chest rested on the bed and both of them kneeled on the floor.

She tried to look over her shoulder to find out what he might be up to, but he tossed the end of her dress over her head.

“Och! Briec, you arrogant bastard! Let me go!”

He didn’t answer her, but he did pry her legs apart.

Talaith gripped the fur coverings in her hands and bit her lip.

“What are you going to do?” she whispered, working hard to keep the giggle out of her voice.

“Nothing you don’t deserve.” She felt the head of his erection pushing against her sex. “And definitely nothing you don’t want.”

“That sure are you, dragon?”

He pushed his c**k home with one thrust and she cried out. His big hands ripped the dress open from the back, then deftly stripped it from her body. When he gripped her br**sts tight, she moaned and slammed back against him.

“I’m very sure, little witch,” he whispered against her ear. “Now tell me how much you want me.”

His thrusts started off slow but powerful, forcing her into the bed.

Panting, her body delirious with lust, she said, “I’ll tell you anything you want, dragon.”

“Mmmhhm. Good.”

“As soon as you beg me for it.”

He bit the back of her neck, making her wince at the slight sting then moan when he licked the wound. “Evil wench,” he muttered against her sweating flesh.

“Presumptuous snake.”

Then they stopped talking all together.

* * *

Briec intertwined his fingers with Talaith’s and pushed her arms over her head. Her eyelids fluttered open and she smiled up at him. “You never let me sleep.”

“Why sleep when there are more interesting things to do?” He kissed her neck and nuzzled under her chin. “You’re a Nolwenn witch, you have centuries for sleeping.”

“In other words I should enjoy you while I have you?”

His grip on her hands tightened and he kissed her chest. “Exactly.” He didn’t want to give her false hope. In another hundred or two hundred years, he’d be done with her. Or three hundred. He hadn’t made up his mind yet. Maybe even four if her already brilliant oral skills continued to improve. Or five if she continued to scream his name at the best times. But no more than that. And to promise more would be wrong.