Her Dragon King (Her Dragon King Duet 2) - Page 63

Now he shakes his head at me. “You expect me to believe you will not use Reverence against me in any way at all?”

“Oh, Damianos….” I move over to the couch and take his hands. Then I fix him with my most sympathetic look as I assure him. “Of course, I’m going to use Reverence against you. I am going to tease you about this for the rest of my life. I doubt a week will go by when I don’t point out that at least the males of my species don’t literally have to do whatever their mates say. When I’m on my death bed, I’ll pretend to die, then wake up and say, ‘Who’s the poorly designed bitch now?’ And then I’ll really die. That’s how bad I’m going to ride you about this.”

He looks down at me, his expression completely stunned.

And I answer his stunned silence with “You think I’m kidding, but I totally n—”

That’s as far as I get before he pulls me off the couch and hauls me across the room to a four-poster bed with red curtains that looks like it was designed by whoever decorated Caligula’s digs.

But this time, I don’t get a chance to appreciate all the fine detail work. Damianos throws me back on the bed. And good thing this nightgown’s on the easily replicated list because he tears it off my body and the next thing I see is his large head between my thighs.

Did I say that his fingers were even better than Licky Town? I totally take that back. He’s also better at this than Other Damianos. Aggressive, not afraid of hurting me. Maybe trying to hurt me? I don’t know and I don’t care. Whatever his intention, it feels so good.

His forked tongue plunges in deep. Deeper than his fingers could ever go. And then he adds in those magical curling fingers of his anyway.

No, playing it cool after that. “Reverence!” I cry out, before exploding into his mouth.

He pulls his tongue out of me and hisses and screeches something in that dragon language of his.

I have no idea what he’s saying, but my wolf thrills when he flips me over and puts his foot in my thigh before pushing into me on one hard stroke. I whimper happily when he braces himself above me and starts pumping into my still quivering pussy.

The sex at the North Dakota house had been hot, but this is something all-together different. He takes me roughly, screeching and hissing his harsh language in my ear.

And this time…. Oh God, this time…there’s no numbness over our mate bond, just raw, blazing hot hunger.

His mate bond. It is wide open.

I can now feel how wrong I was before when I came to the door.

He wants me. He wants me so bad, he’s taking me faster and faster, his strokes become unhinged and sloppy. “You are mine, not his. For as long as the both of us shall live,” he roars inside my head.

“Yours,” I agree, a yearning ache to be that exactly burns inside of my chest. And I can’t tell if the ache belongs to him or me. It has become impossible to separate our emotions out anymore.

All I know is the hunger. The fire. Then…the all-consuming orgasm, that flames through both of us.

“Reverence….” I sigh out loud as we both float down to earth.

He doesn’t answer. Just rests his forehead against the back of my braids for several moments, before pulling out.

He flops down onto his back and throws his arm across his eyes. Then his mate bond abruptly goes silent on me again. Okay, I guess that wasn’t as much of a breakthrough as I thought it was.

And cue the confusion.

I’m not sure what to do now. Say, “Haha, I knew you wanted this, no matter how cold you were acting before!” Or pick up the remnants of my ruined nightgown and try to figure out how to get back downstairs without any wandering party guests or servants seeing me.

Feeling embarrassed and stupid, I go for the nightgown option. But then his arm catches my wrist when I try to slink out of bed.

“Is that the proper way to bid a reverent good night?”

I turn to find Damianos staring back at me. His arm lowered, his glowing eyes blazing.

“Um, probably no?” I guess.

“No, it is not.”

A huge smile breaks out across my face. “Maybe you should teach me, so I don’t make that mistake again.”

“Maybe,” he repeats. “You have said this word often since that night at the beach. So as not to make me do anything I did not wish?”

I nod, liking that he gets it now. Loving that we both understand what my new “maybe” habit means. What I’m holding back, what I’m promising to never do.

He eyes me thoughtfully. “No, I don’t believe I will. Not this eve. Since you decided to invade my private sanctuary, you will pass the night here.”

Tags: Theodora Taylor Her Dragon King Duet Fantasy
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