Kiss of a Dragon(39)

He pulled out and stroked into her, his face falling into an intense mask of lust. “I believe,” he said, his voice becoming more ragged, “that one orgasm is truly an insult to any woman. Unless the time and space required do not otherwise permit.” He was punctuating each word with another thrust inside her with that gloriously large cock. And his words… God, the words alone were going to make her come again.

Again. Holy shit. He was doing it again.

Then he fell silent, grasping hold of her hair and her hip, angling her so that he could possess her body more deeply and strongly, and he kept thrusting and thrusting. It took no time at all before she was shrieking and clutching at him and calling out his name. The second orgasm was even more powerful than the first. Black stars swam in front of her eyes with how hard she was breathing and screaming and bucking.

But when he sunk deep inside her and groaned through his own release, she felt sure that she had actually died and gone to heaven. This wasn’t just a man in bed with her… this was some kind of god. A gorgeous, kind, passionate sex god.

And she could feel herself tumbling down and down and down…

Her track record of recognizing True Love was completely fucked—but this was unlike anything she had ever felt. She should hold back, try not to feel this way, pull back from the soul-deep intimacy of this thing she was doing with this man.

But the way her heart was falling… it was already too late.





Lucian flew hard enough to nudge the sound barrier.

The crackle of compressed air against his wings, the screaming absence of sound, the tumbling turbulence he felt pulling at every scale, every ripple of his body, every not-smooth part that dared to disturb the airstream… all of it washed him clean of her scent, scrubbing him dry and raw with a scourging of high-speed air.

But none of it erased her from his mind.

As if that were even possible.

Dipping his left wing a fraction of an inch, he rolled out of the magic-propelled surge of speed. Two fast loops, then two more—anyone watching would think he was tumbling out of control, but he was merely slowing down in the least painful way possible, absorbing the blows of wind and turbulence across the span of his body rather than head-on. He pulled out of the spins and checked his location—he’d passed into Canada while he was trying to outrun his problems. Given he was supposed to be on his way to Seattle to relieve Leksander from his patrol, he should probably bank west and head back down the coast. Although he was early anyway—he had time to spare.

The danger for him lay not in demons roaming Seattle, but in his bedroom back in the keep. He’d held Arabella captive in his bed, hour after hour, resting only when they’d each been sated and fallen asleep in each other’s arms. Then he would rouse her again, hard and ready to please her some more and bury himself in her sweetness in every way he could imagine.

Leonidas was right. It had been far, far too long. Lucian needed this release as desperately as Arabella. And now that he’d taken his fill, he’d flown away from the keep, heading for his patrol, drunk on the elixir that was her soft scent, mouth-watering skin, and delicate screams.

But he was not falling in love with her.

That he even had to say this to himself was a horrible, terrible sign. He knew this. Just as he knew she was everything he had first tasted in that alleyway and more. Strong. Vibrant. Gloriously responsive in bed. He thought he could take his fill and have it sate him, but every time he left her body, he immediately craved more.

He had intended to simply slake her thirst, her obvious need. And his own. If he still possessed any talent for seduction whatsoever, she would be falling madly in love with him in another day or two, possibly even willing to undergo the sealing. But under no circumstances could he afford to lose his heart to this girl. If that happened, he would send her packing and find someone else to fulfill the treaty. A thousand demons couldn’t force him to do otherwise.

He tipped away from the glare of the late afternoon sun, heading southwest and sending a magical kick of power to boost his speed. He had spent nearly a day in bed with her, but now it was time to return to his responsibilities. He and his brothers were taking shifts, covering the city around the clock in hopes of finding a demon and tracking it back to its sire. Whichever fae had loosed it upon the human world, Lucian needed hard magical evidence in the form of the demon’s DNA. Whatever the Winter Court was playing at had to be stopped.

Plus a night of demon-hunting would help banish this enthrallment Arabella had cast over him. Not that she was trying. He could see that easily enough—the tentative looks between rounds of screaming sex; whispers of gratitude, as if bedding her endlessly were some kind of favor he bestowed upon her, one that would soon come to an end; and finally, the fluttering of her eyes as she attempted to stave off the feelings that came in the aftermath of their couplings. Heady feelings that made him drunk as well.