Pia Does Hollywood (Elder Races, #8.6)(5)

Dragos lifted his head, and in the shadows of the front hall, his gold eyes flared incandescent. He looked hungry, and angry. It was all the warning she got.

Grabbing her by the waist, he lifted her into his arms. Laughing and trying to muffle the sound, she managed to hook an arm around his neck as he strode the short distance to his office.

“What are you doing?!” she whispered, breathless from trying to hold back her giggles.

“I’m taking my wife.” Slamming the door with one booted foot, he carried her to the massive desk and swept everything out of the way as he set her on the polished surface.

Her body knew what was coming next. Her pulse rate ratcheted up, until she felt she had a fever, and a hungry ache throbbed in the private place between her legs. “I thought we didn’t have time for this.”

“Screw it,” he growled. “We’ll make time.”





Chapter Two





Dragos knew he was throwing off heat as if he were on fire. He felt like he was burning up. He loved the fact that she never minded his heat. When they were in bed, she cuddled close, even in the warmest weather.

She spread slender hands across his chest. Her plump, inviting lips were unsteady as she whispered, “What about the roads?”

“They won’t freeze in the next ten minutes.” Undoing the fastening of her jeans, he hauled them and her panties off, taking her slip-on shoes with them. Then he yanked her legs apart.

She burst out laughing again. “Eva’s outside in the car!”

“She knows her job,” he muttered. “She’ll wait.”

Dragos knew when he got like this, there was no reasoning with him.

But fortunately, when he got like this, there was no reasoning with her either.

She didn’t waste any more precious time arguing, not when he could tell she wanted this as much as he did. Arousal perfumed her scent. He took in deep breaths, gripping her shoulders as she worked to get his jeans open too.

When she did, and his stiff, aching erection spilled into her waiting hands, they both sucked in a breath.

It was a terrible thing to grow to need someone the way that he had grown to need her. For so many millennia, he had been content to be a solitary creature. The dragon in him was baffled by the unrelenting drive he felt to be with her, and stupefied at the experience of being in love.

Because he did, he loved her. He didn’t love often, or very many people, and he was content to have it that way, but she consumed his life. She burned him up, until there was nothing left but his essence, taken out of his massive body and flying weightless again in the endless, unmeasured spill of profligate golden sunlight, just as he had once flown in the earliest days of his very long life.

Their lack of time lent urgency to their actions. She pumped his cock once, twice, three times, spiking sensation along his nerve endings until he could have spilled right then and there into her welcoming hands, but he didn’t want to climax that way. He wanted to bury himself into her velvety soft, tight sheath.

As he yanked her soft sweater up, she obligingly raised her arms. Shimmering pale blonde hair tumbled over her laughing, sensual expression. He tossed the sweater to the floor and greedily filled his palms with her round, soft breasts, framed prettily by a cream lacy bra. Bending his head, he licked and bit lightly at the luscious swell of flesh. When he put his mouth over one nipple and sucked at her teasingly, through the material of the bra, she moaned and hooked her legs around his waist, trying to pull him close.

It was impossible—he couldn’t suckle at her breasts and still come up to nestle against her pelvis. After a last hard pull and nip at her breast, he gave up, straightened and put an arm around her hips to pull her to the edge of the desk.

As she wriggled eagerly into position, he put a hand between her legs, fingering her soft, delicate folds. She was wet for him, but he already knew that from the arousal in her scent. Relishing the liquid glide of velvet flesh against his callused fingertips, he probed until he found the tight, stiff little pearl he was looking for.

She sucked in an unsteady breath as he caressed her, tightening her fists in the material of his shirt. He could feel the muscles in her inner thighs shaking against his hips. For a few moments, she thrust her pelvis against his hand, mimicking the rhythm they found when they were joined together, until his blood caught the rhythm, pulsing urgently through his veins.

Then she pushed his hand away, hissing, “Stop being so damn considerate and get inside me already, will you?”

Laughter welled up. Gods, he loved how frankly sensual she was with him, and her unabashed enthusiasm for sex.

She took hold of his cock again, rubbing her thumb along the broad sensitive head until moisture came out of the tip. Then she positioned him at her entrance, and gripping her hips, he pushed inside.

It never got old, never. Each time, he caught fire like it was the first time. When he planted himself deep inside her, she let her head fall back. Her gaze was unfocused, and her breathing came in short, quick pants.

Bending over her arched torso, one arm wrapped around her hips, he f*cked her in short, hard jabs. The friction was excruciating, delicious. She was delicious. He bit at her neck, sucking at the delicate skin.

She raked her fingernails down his back, leaving trails of fire. Relishing the small pain, he growled and accelerated his pace. His erection felt huge, impossibly hard and thick. If he didn’t spill soon, he was going to go crazy.