With every thrust, she clenches on my cock. My hands grip her hips to hold her still for my battering ram of cock. She tips forward, rubbing her needy clit against the bed.
Fate, I can’t take it. She’s too much. Too perfect. She’s undoing me.
I pull out and crack my palm against her upturned ass, punishing her for being such a damn temptation. Such a torment to me. She flips her hair and looks over her shoulder at me, her teeth bared like she’s the wild beast, not me.
I spank her again and again, loving the way the sound fills the room. Her little cries followed by labored breath.
She snarls and flips around. My beautiful unabashed female. She wants it all from me, but I can’t give it.
I have to stay in control. I won’t claim her with my fire until I’m certain I can do it without causing her harm.
Desperate to maintain control–of myself, of my bride, of everything–I wrestle her down, pinning her by her delicate wrists to the bed.
“Take off your clothes,” she demands, her eyes lit with the glow of the fire, as if she’s a dragoness and not a delicate, docile human. “Why are you still wearing that goddamn fancy robe?”
I am still in the robe, but the tie’s undone, and it gapes open in the front. She drinks in the sight of my bare chest like she’s starved for it.
“At least your hair is mussed for once.”
I don’t have the brain capacity to decode her meaning–why she wants my hair mussed and dislikes my robe so much. Too much of my blood has traveled south to my other head.
Tabitha still fights me for control, wrapping her legs around my waist and pulling me into her. I forget to hold her down, and she gets a hand free and grips my cock.
I nearly come from her touch alone. A shudder runs through me, the fire in my Mercurial center flaring hot and sending steam billowing from my nostrils.
Tabitha guides me in. “Fuck me,” she orders and digs her nails through the robe into the heavy heaving muscles of my back.
I’m losing my mind. The flames of need and desire take over.
“You’re so hot,” Tabitha moans as I thrust into her.
I force myself to slow the thrusts. To pull back and look at her face. “Too hot? Do I burn you, my love?”
She rolls her head on the bedcovers, her eyes glassy and bright. “No, no, no, no, no. Not too hot. Stop stopping. I mean, don’t stop, dragon.” She grips the lapels of my robe and yanks me down, her sweet lips seeking mine for a kiss.
I bury my head against her neck, instead, letting my teeth graze her skin.
“I need you,” she sobs.
My dragon goes wild within me, the desire to satisfy our mate too strong.
I stop moving, closing my eyes to force him back into his chains. Into the golden cuffs that keep him locked safely away.
“Stop stopping!” she screams, beating her fists on my shoulders, even as her legs yank my hips closer.
She thinks I’m teasing her still, denying her orgasm.
I pretend it’s so. I lift my head and give her a smug look.
She certainly deserves the torture after what she put me through. Risking her life like that.
She deserves to be punished all week.
Her frenzied gaze seeks mine. “Please.”
I’m incapable of denying her. I resume thrusting, making her body rock with each instroke.
“Your muscles are like stones heated on a fire.” She grips me, fighting to be closer. She rocks her hips up to meet each thrust, taking me deeper. “I need to feel it. I need to feel it all.”
“Gabriel. I need you. No more Mr. Control.” She cranes her neck and nips at my shoulder.
I shudder and buck, fucking her hard enough to send her through the bed.
“Come on, come on,” she chants, locking her ankles over my back. She arches her back and writhes against me, rubbing her nipples over my robe and chest.
I find her G-spot with my cock, and she snaps. She shakes and trembles, her cry turning to a keening pitch as she bounces with every savage snap of my hips.
My dragon’s growl reverberates in the room, and the castle shudders at the power of it.
Fuck.
My skin glows from the fire stemming from my power center, but brightest around his heart. “Come, Tabitha,” I order in a guttural voice. I shove in deep and stay, using every ounce of will I have not to come myself. Not to let loose the seed that will brand her womb. The essence that will brand her soul. The fire that will forever mark her as mine.
Tabitha cries out, her muscles squeezing and contracting around my cock. “Are you coming?” she gasps, as if I'm not struggling enough to hold back.