The Dragon Marshal's Treasure (U.S. Marshal Shifters 1) - Page 49

He knew the heat of the hot springs would eliminate any need for birth control; knew she was on it anyway. He spread her legs still further apart in answer and she whimpered, ecstatic and needy. He needed her so much too. Needed this, more than he’d ever needed anything. They were both scared and worried and alone except for each other. This felt like a promise they were making, he to her and she to him, to be sufficient to themselves, to be tender, to be there.

He thrust into her slowly but fully. Her inner walls tightened around him to the point where he had to

bite his lip hard to keep his focus. It was difficult. When he went so long without shifting, his skin seemed thinner and more sensitive, more attuned to tiny gradations in temperature or pressure. All his senses were heightened. He could smell the feminine musk of her even through the water. There was no way, he thought, to ever get all of what he wanted from her. He wanted to rub away the barrier between their two bodies until they were one. But that couldn’t be.

Jillian proved him wrong.

Lacing her hands around the back of his neck, she eased her hips forward and back, rocking him in and out of her. She was going gently because he was still hurt, but not only because of that. There was a hesitancy to her movements that it took him a moment to translate.

This was the first time they had made love since they had said that they did love each other. They were truly mated now. This was a kind of consummation: now, at last, they both knew everything and believed everything, and they were choosing each other. Jillian was going slowly because she was savoring the feeling of him inside her.

The only distance between them, the only separation, was being put there by his old habit of hoarding loneliness. But he knew better now. It was time to put that knowledge to work.

His dragon roared in agreement. Yes! We are worthy of our mate! We will bring our mate fire and gold!

His blood burned. He stroked his hands down her silky-smooth back and then down onto her ass, pulling her closer to him, changing the angle so that he could go even deeper inside her. Jillian moaned, her head falling back. He kissed her throat, wanting to give her a love-bite there like some overeager teenager, wanting to mark her, claim her in some way. He bit her earlobe instead and that was when she came. Her back arched and her whole body tightened around his cock to a point of exquisite, almost unbearable tension.

No, actually unbearable. He gave up on perfection for good and found his climax with hers. Some primitive part of him loved the idea of filling her with his seed—there was the mark he’d craved, the scent of his body on hers.

Her face was beautifully flushed, pink from the lovemaking and the steam, and her eyes glittered like jewels. No—better than any jewels. Like stars.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you too. I can live without anything if I have you.”

“Without your wings?” She traced his shoulder blades with her fingertip. “I know it’s hard to wait.”

“It is, but—I know I’ll be fine.” He wryly thought that the best gift he could give her would be to not talk her through the winding maze of his self-doubt, but he wanted her to have a more tangible—and knowable—gesture than that. Something that would really prove that he was with her now and that he would be fine.

Something that said, I don’t have two halves of my life anymore, a dragon half and a human half. When I’m with you, I’m whole. You can have all my life. I trust you to think it’s worth sharing.

Also something fun.

Make love to her on top of your hoard, his dragon said.

We just made love, Theo pointed out. And I think you’re forgetting how many sharp angles there are in our hoard.

He grinned suddenly, sure he had thought of exactly the right solution.

“You have such a beautiful smile,” Jillian said.

“There’s a ball tonight,” Theo said. “Would you like to accompany me? We can find you a gown.”

“Balls? Ball gowns?”

“I know. Fairy tales.”

“Fairy tales,” she said, shaking her head. “I know you think you’re not interested in them, but I think this whole valley is very into the idea of reclaiming fairy tales. We have dragon antiheroes instead of villains. Yes, please, I’d love to go to the ball with you, Prince Charming.”

“I am honored.” He meant it.

But her smile faltered. “I need to tell you something.”

Adrenaline spiked through his veins, chilling him even in the midst of the hot spring. “What is it?”

She started off by looking a little over his shoulder, but before she spoke, she turned firmly back to him and locked her eyes on his. She was still straddling his lap, her thighs squeezing him just a little, as if she couldn’t give up being close to him. Like she wanted comfort.

“Sometimes in fairy tales there’s a wicked king,” Jillian said. “Someone who would burn down his own castle before he’d let anyone else have it. That’s my dad.”

Tags: Zoe Chant U.S. Marshal Shifters Paranormal
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