"Torion, I—you feel?—"
"Don't stop, witch," I managed through gritted teeth, watching where we were joined, the incredible spread of her lips around me, the tight grip she held me in, welcomed me with.
I looked up and groaned as I found her watching the same point, her mouth open on a moan. I wished her hair was down, curtaining around us, but her throat was exposed, lean and strong, and my mouth watered at the sight of her swallowing a cry. I bucked and purred as the sound escaped in answer, bright and sweet and pleading.
"You're getting—" She grunted, eyes widening. "You're getting bigger. Oh, Torion, I want?—"
A stony ache was building at the base of my cock, and every time Brigid bore down the feel of her rubbing against it made me want to shout, to claw the bedding apart, to spread my wings and fly hard into the sun. The spot grew swollen, a dark and violent shade of red—myknot. My hands caught Brigid by the thighs, tugging her harder against the growing knot, watchingher spread wider over it and then retreat again with a soft cry of disappointment. She wanted it, even as her body resisted the effort, and still, my knot grew.
I sat up abruptly, bumping our chests together, wrapping one arm around Brigid's waist, holding her by the back of the neck with the other.
"Take my knot, Brigid," I rumbled, begged, whispered. "It's yours by right."
She whined, leaning back into my hold, and pressed down a little harder this time, a little longer, before rising up again, gasping for air. Her eyes met mine and I felt it between us, the way it always was, the way I could grab the very heart of her and hold it still, just for a moment, just with a look.
"I am yours, witch. Take me."
Her lashes fluttered, and her arms swung around my shoulders, our kiss clumsy. She bounced on me a few times, and I nearly rose up, forced her down, demanded what we both wanted. But with a delicious curl of her hips, her nose pressed to mine, our breath mingling, she swiveled her hips just so, seating herself with a sudden grace and ease.
She came with a cry, clenching around me, and a cannon went off in my body, rocketing through me, blacking my vision and denying me anything but the sudden boiling and pressured release that exploded through me. There was a roaring sound that matched the tired scratch in my throat, my own shout of release. On and on it went, heat and the throbbing pulse that started at my scalp and toes and grew unbearably dense at my core.
It didn't lessen, but I must've grown accustomed to it because eventually my vision cleared and the roaring subsided to a heavy, snarling purr. Brigid was on her back beneath me, mouth opened on a pleasured scream. Her body rolled to meet mine in the slow grind and press, her core still squeezing and milking myknot, keeping it hard, keeping us both riding that rough edge of ecstasy without end. She pulled my hair in her fists, squeaked out a strangled cry, and then drew my mouth down to hers, drowning sense from my mind again.
We were in the rut's grip now.
"Torion!"
My tongue swept through silky, swollen petals of flesh, and the nectar I found was a feast on my palate, sweet and rich and salty. I dug deeper, purring in approval as she nestled her hips into my face to offer more. She was so small now. No, it was the other way around. My dragon was swelling up inside of me, nearly bursting out through the taut stretch of my skin and the hard case of my rising scales.
Her soft little claws dug through my hair, and she cursed, called my name again. My name.
"Torion." A sweet little moan.
My omega. My woman. My…Brigid.
"Witch," I hissed, and lapped up a little flow of arousal once more as she strangled a cry and bucked against my mouth.
Mate. Yes, that was a better word. Mymate. My match. The boon I'd claimed for myself and my dragon.
Her legs were trembling over my shoulders, my curls caught in her grip like reins as she arched toward her own release. Greedy little thing. I chuckled at the thought, and she shuddered and whined. Her crown of auburn flames had gone crooked after a day, and now the fire was spread over the sheets.
You should brush it, braid it. You have to take care of her, some sanity whispered to me.
"After," I mumbled, but the word was buried with my tongue inside of her, just another low sound to echo for her pleasure.
Her toes curled against my wing roots, and I groaned. She was close now. I could plunge inside her once more, knot her and fill her and breed her like she'd told me I must. I grinned, and some man's reason returned at the recollection of Brigid at my father's desk, sorting my supremacy as alpha out with lists and plans. She deserved this softness, this moment for herself.
And I deserved the taste of her on my tongue before I took her again.
But the taste of her was better than whisky, and stronger too. Her scent fogged my head and filled it only with hunger and lust. And the feel of her, wet and glossy, sweeter than water and more refreshing, cool and hot at the same time… I wanted it coating every inch of me.
"Oh, Torion, I—Ahh!"
I purred as she shattered, my mouth open wide and tongue stroking inside of her, her little legs quaking and spreading wider in an invitation my knot was eager to accept. And her pulse, it pounded against my cheek. I could hear the blood rushing inside of her, the very life of her, the way the pace of her heart matched mine precisely. The life I'd claimed, the one that belonged tied to mine. I rubbed my face against her thigh, mouthing my way to where it thrummed, calling to me.
I wanted to know everything about my witch, every flavor, every texture. She belonged to me, with me. My mate.
Her leg stretched long as I set my mouth over the pulse at the crease of her hip, sucking and kissing and nibbling till the blood was so close to the surface I could taste the way it changed her, made her sharper, a bitter salt to balance the sweet. I wanted—no,neededto taste it, to quench the dragon fire in my throat before it burned us both.
