“Nyfain,” Finley said, her voice husky. She jerked her hips over me, working my cock in a way that made my eyes roll back in my head. “Fill me up, Nyfain.”
I bucked up into her without meaning to, my hands slapping down onto her hips. I did it again and again, my dragon half stealing control, desperate to fulfill our end of the bargain.
Fuck she felt good.
I pushed up to sitting, ramming my cock up as she slammed down. Her breasts bobbed, and I captured a nipple with my mouth, making her groan and her head loll. She worked her clit as I pushed into her, chasing my orgasm, knowing she was getting close. Power pulsed between us.
“Nyfain,” she begged, over and over, needing me to come. Needing me to explode inside her.
Out of control, loving it, I rolled her over and settled between her legs, still inside her and now pounding into her tight cunt. The sounds of wet slapping filled the room. She groaned and writhed, and I was right there with her, on the edge.
“Command me,” she said, her eyes fluttering. “Command me to come.”
She raked her fingers down my scales, and I barely managed to do as she said, the command almost incoherent as I hit my peak and shuddered over her. Her eyes snapped open, wide, and her fingers stilled. Sweat made her beautiful face shiny, and then she moaned, her insides squeezing me tightly as she hit her climax.
“Yes.”
She said it like she always did when she hit these moods, long and low. It was like she was giving me a pat on the back for fulfilling her wishes.
This time, though, her eyes went wide again after her final shudder. She looked almost scared, like a cornered rabbit.
I frowned and pushed up a bit. “What is it?”
“N-nothing. Get off. My head hurts.”
Turbulent emotions raged within her. I suddenly understood. She’d run her hands down my scales and felt the brokenness. She’d felt the failure. This wasn’t the first time her hopes had been dashed.
“Listen, sweetheart, it doesn’t—”
“Off!” Her will gave me a mighty shove, toppling me backward.
Something is amiss, my dragon said, confused. Her dragon is delighted.
Her dragon is always delighted after we service her when she’s in these moods.
He couldn’t argue the point, so he fell silent, still close to the surface but watching. He’d never admit it, but when Finley got unpredictable, he got a little nervous. There weren’t many who could rattle him, but our mate was high on that short list.
I slowly stood as Finley climbed off the bed, holding her head. In silence, she dressed in the clothes I’d brought up for her last night. I pulled mine on as well, intending to shadow her until she’d had her cure and I could talk to her somewhat rationally.
She brushed her hair and teeth in a rush, not waiting for her maid’s help, and then ran into Leala on the stairs.
“Good morning, milady.” Leala offered her a curtsy and a smile. “How do you feel this morning?”
“How do you feel this morning? You don’t look affected at all by last night.”
“No, milady. I’ve had a lot of practice with parties and heavy drinking. May I bring you some breakfast?”
Finley pushed past her, her mood dark.
“She’ll breakfast in the everlass house, as usual,” I told Leala.
Finley continued down the stairs, and I followed. She didn’t spare me a backward glance, but she didn’t tell me to fuck off, either. I considered that a win.
When we reached the everlass house, Mom and Dee were already inside working on their elixirs and draughts, earlier than normal. Usually they waited until after flight training. Then again, given how much wine they’d plied Finley with last night, maybe they didn’t expect to do flight training at all. Finley grunted in acknowledgment and went about gathering up herbs and dried everlass, presumably for her hangover cure.
“How’s the head?” Delaney asked Finley, barely looking up from her work.
“Not ideal,” Finley mumbled.
Mom glanced at her with a little smirk. “Do you have a remedy that will help you? Dee and I have one if you don’t.”
“I do.” Finley ground the herbs and everlass and then mixed it with water before drinking it down. After she was done, she went and stood in the doorframe, staring out at nothing.
“And how are you, son?” My mom glanced up at me before doing a double take. Her eyes narrowed. “Is it just me, or are your scars less defined?”
I shrugged. I hadn’t noticed. It had been a long time since I’d cared about my reflection.
“Take off your shirt,” Finley said, rubbing her temples.
“Me?” I asked, taken aback.
“I am certainly not talking to your mother,” she replied tersely.
A high-wattage smile lit up Dee’s face. She clearly liked when Finley was in a dark mood.