A Destiny of Dragons (Tales From Verania 2)

“That’s not what I said—”

“Not that I have a problem with that,” I’d assured him, just in case he was worried. “I’m finding that I rather enjoy being in charge. I was doing some research, and it’s come to my attention that I’m probably a power top.”

“Research? When the hell would you have had time to do research? We haven’t even left the room!”

“Obviously the sex we just had counted as research.”

“Obviously.”

I’d turned over on my side to face him, reaching over to trace a finger over his eyebrows. He’d hummed a little and leaned into the touch, and I thought, I can’t believe this is mine, I can’t believe I get to have this. “It’s okay, you know,” I’d said lightly.

“What is?”

“That we do this here. You and me?”

He’d flushed, refusing to look at me. “It’s not… I don’t… I just.” He’d bitten his bottom lip. “I just like it, is all,” he’d finally said quietly. “I don’t have to think. With you. I know it’ll be okay. That you’ll take care of me. I don’t have to worry about anything else.”

I’d grinned at him. “Ergo, sex god.”

He’d rolled his eyes, but he’d also been fighting a smile, and that was pretty much my undoing. The fifth time had been spectacular.

And we’d refined it over the last year, turning it into something more. Sure, I was still a sex god and said sex was hot. But there was a familiarity to it now. I knew him as well as he knew me. I knew what made him tick, the little things he liked. I knew what it meant when his eyes glazed over as he panted below me. And he knew what it meant when I started trembling, how close I was. I had something that he never gave to anyone else, something to call my own, and I protected it at all costs. It wasn’t something I even really talked about with Gary and Tiggy. For all the bluster, for all the shit I could talk, there were some things that needed to be protected.

I figured I’d given him enough time. I made my way to our room, the door cracked, candlelight flickering inside. I took a breath and pushed it open.

And promptly lost said breath like I’d been punched in the stomach.

Ryan Foxheart was on our bed on his back, trousers discarded and forgotten on the floor. His hand was shiny with oil as he jerked himself off, head rocking back. But it was his other hand that caught my attention. That hand was between his legs, moving slowly as he fingered himself, stretching himself open as he pressed his feet flat against the bed, pushing up to try and get a better angle. From where I stood, it looked like he was already two or three fingers deep. It normally took longer than that; I’d only been in the hall a few minutes or so. Ruv must have really gotten under his skin if he was this worked up.

I watched his toes curl into the comforter as he arched his back slightly, bowing up and off the bed. He groaned my name, long and drawn-out, and it was all I could do to keep from running over and pouncing on him. This was going to be fast and messy, and I wanted to let it build just a little bit more before I took him.

My magic was singing underneath my skin, rushing through my blood. The thousands of tiny little strands that connected us, the facets of the cornerstone we’d built so far, were thrumming. It was a heady thing. Not just the sight of him, even though that was enough to almost knock me off my feet. But the threads that built between us, the little offshoots of green and gold and blue that sparked off in the corner of my eyes, just out of reach. It made me feel more powerful than I’d ever felt before. Sex didn’t always need to be a component for cornerstones; Morgan was proof of that. But it was for Ryan and me, and I had no problem with that whatsoever.

“You ready?” I asked him in a low voice as I locked the door behind me. His hips jerked a little at the sound of the lock clicking.

He shook his head frantically. “Not yet,” he said hoarsely. “Can’t reach. Can’t get where I—”

“You’re getting close, though. Aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” He jacked himself another time or two. “Yeah, Sam. I’m close.”

“Can’t have that, can we? Put your hands above your head.”

He groaned in frustration but did as I asked, pulling his fingers out of his ass with an obscenely wet sound. He rested his hands against the headboard, biceps flexing, fingers shiny in the candlelight. His dick twitched against his stomach.

“That’s real good,” I said lightly. “Keep them there.”

He turned toward the sound of my voice, eyes wide. I waited until his focus was on me before I stalked toward him slowly, first pulling my jerkin off. I might have been a born sex god, but even sex gods could be insecure. It had taken a while for me to feel comfortable under his scrutiny. He was chiseled out of stone by the gods. I was a stick that had fallen out of a tree. But Ryan didn’t seem to mind, seemed to like it in fact. I didn’t know what that said about him, but I wasn’t going to complain.

I let the jerkin fall to the floor, and he made an abortive movement with his hands. He caught himself, though, and let out a long, slow breath, trying to maintain some semblance of control. It was a sight to behold, the Knight Commander of Castle Lockes all spread out and wanting in our bed. No one else got to see him like this. This was only for me.

I popped the button to my trousers, wondering how much longer I could string him along. I was already half hard and itching to close the distance between us. But sex gods couldn’t show they were affected. Sex gods played it cool and collected and sexy.

“You’re thinking about being a sex god again, aren’t you?” he asked, voice rough.

I snapped my head back toward him. His eyes were a little clearer than they’d been just a moment before, and he had that fond and exasperated look on his face that I knew so well. His cock was still hard, and his arms were still above his head. His legs were drawn up, feet down on the mattress. He was exposed but comfortable. He trusted me.

So of course I lied. “No, I wasn’t thinking about that at all. I was thinking about what I was going to do to you.”