Dragon Bound (Elder Races #1)(52)

It was then her shattered consciousness caught up with what he had growled in her ear as he f**ked her. Mine, he had said. You’re mine. You’re mine.

She drifted, looking at the silhouette of the back of his head against the sky as she rubbed her cheek against his, as his weight bore her down. Something in her was sputtering and trying to shift into overdrive in reaction to what just happened. It was too much. She couldn’t think.

He started to move his hips again, pulling out, pushing in, his breathing deepening. Oh God, he was still huge and hard. Not human. She made an amazed noise at the back of her throat, clutching at him as he worked inside her. It was too gorgeous. She thrust up with her hips, matching his pace.

This time a moan tore through his chest and he shook all over as he started to pulse. She worked inner muscles and rocked him through the climax, murmuring in his ear. He turned his face into her neck.

He pulled out, face drawn. She woofed in surprise as he flipped her onto her stomach and yanked her hips up so that she was on her knees. Her tangled hair settled in a cloud over her face. “Not deep enough,” he groaned. “Got to get deeper.”

More than willing, she spread her knees and arched her pelvis back. She reached between her legs to help guide him as he pushed into her from behind. The slick, hot, velvet length of his c**k felt even bigger this way. She murmured a throaty encouragement as he buried himself to the hilt. She was taken over not just by his overwhelming sexuality but by this strange creature who lived inside her body and who felt more sensuous, more female, and more desired than she ever had before.

He covered her, one arm low around her waist to hold her for his frenzied thrusts, the other hand planted on the ground beside hers so that he bore most of his weight. This time the pistoning of his hips was relentless. He drove hard and steady as he buried his face in the back of her neck, his breath shuddering against her skin. The pressure built again, but this time she wasn’t sure she could take it. She sobbed and clutched at the ground for purchase. Grass tore under her fingernails.

He sank his teeth into the back of her neck as his Power curled around her. Come with me. He shifted to put his hand between her legs, to rub long fingers along the place where he entered her and to pinch her clitoris. He shoved in hard one last time and held taut. His Power rippled over her, through her, with his climax.

Her mind went incandescent. She flew apart.

Dragos poured everything he had into her. It came roaring up from the base of his spine as he locked himself in the tight glove of her sheath. This wasn’t sex. He’d had sex countless times. Sex was a simple coupling and release. More often than not, half an hour later he would have already forgotten the female’s name.

This was something he’d never done before. This was something far more elemental and necessary than sex. Feasting on her didn’t ease his hunger but fed his need. Working inside her wasn’t enough. Climaxing didn’t assuage the lust. It built the frenzy. She absorbed everything he did to her and amplified it back, and bloomed even more lustrous and intoxicating. He had to drive into her so deep he never came back out.

He came back to awareness. He still covered her from behind, was still inside her, his hand spanning the graceful are of her pelvis. Tremors quaked through her body. The slender muscles in her thighs quivered against his. She gasped for breath in quiet sobs.

What had he done? He pressed his lips to her neck and drew them along the sleek angle of her shoulder. He withdrew his hand from her pelvis to brush the tangled cloud of her hair out of the way as he tried to see her face. “Ssh,” he murmured. “Easy.”

She was too weak to stay on her hands and knees without his hold supporting her. His softening penis slipped out of her as she sank to the ground. She rested her head on her arms. He shifted to lie on his side, one thigh draped over the back of hers. He smoothed her hair, rubbed her shivering back.

Her face seemed wet. Was she crying? Had he hurt her? The questions knifed him. He could have sworn she was with him the entire way.

He stopped breathing. He eased fingers under her chin to coax her head up and turn her toward him. Her face and those brilliant eyes were devastated and wide-open. She looked as beautiful and fragile as cut crystal. His gut clenched.

“I lost control,” he whispered.

That, along with the worry darkening his eyes, anchored her back in her body. Was he trying to apologize?

“So did I,” she whispered back.

“I’ve never done that before.” He touched the delicate skin at the corner of her eye, rubbed the ball of his thumb along her lower lip.

“Neither have I,” she confessed. A smile broke over her face.

His fingers dropped to trace the curve of her lips. “Are you—all right?”

She was a mess. She was euphoric, an emotional train wreck. She needed to go into a quiet, dark room somewhere and try to make sense of everything that had happened—and that he had done—to her.

But first she had to wipe that uncertainty off his face.

Her smile widened, and she told him the truth. “No,” she said. She leaned over and pressed a kiss to those incredible seductive lips. “You demolished me. I had no idea anybody could do the things you did. And I want to know how soon we can do it again.”

The worry vanished and an answering smile lit his eyes. He looked at her mouth. “I want a lot of things.”

“What you do with your tongue is a sin,” she teased.