"I—I don't know, sire."
We must claim her. We must take what she can only give once. We must own her. Fill her belly with our seed.The dragon stirred within me, and it was all I could do to force it downagain._
She flinched as my hand moved with startling speed, grasping the thin fabric of her kirtle and tearing it with a single violent motion. The cool night air rushed against herexposed skin as her breasts spilled free, pale as moonlight in the darkness.
"Yes," I murmured, my voice dropping to a husky growl that sent gooseflesh racing all over her skin. "Hard as a pebble, just as I thought."
"Please, sire." She attempted to cover herself with the ripped remains of the fabric. I pushed the pieces out of her hands and turned her so I could see all of her glorious flesh in the moonlight.
"Tell me, little temptress," I said, my fingers hovering just above her nipples. "Do you wish for me to touch you?"
Her mouth opened, but no sound emerged.
"Answer me." My other hand reached for her hair, holding her head back so she had no choice but to look up at me. "Do you wish for me to touch you?"
Take her,the dragon yelled.Fuck her. Put our child in her belly.
She bit her lip, clearly unable to form words.
My grip on her hair tightened, pulling her head back further. "I want to hear you say the words," I insisted, my eyes burning into hers. "Tell me you want me to touch you."
"I—" Her voice broke, barely audible even to my own ears.
"Louder. Tell me what you want me to do to you."
I could not say why it was imperative that she admit her desirous feelings toward me—perhaps because I did not want to believe myself the only one consumed by this forbidden entanglement, this illicit dance between predator and prey. Was I alone in this obsession that clawed at my insides day and night, or did she feel the same desperate, maddening hunger?
The way her body responded to my touch suggested I wasn't suffering this torment in solitude, that perhaps she too lay awake at night, haunted by possibilities and plagued by wants she dared not name.
The words finally tumbled from her lips. "I want you to touch me, sire."
My lips curved into a triumphant smile. "Good girl."
Finally, my fingers descended to brush against one exposed nipple. When I pinched it hard between my fingers, she gasped, her back arching slightly toward me. Heat pooled low in my groin, and I could feel my prick getting hard, ready to claim what he already considered his.
"You still haven't told me your name." My voice was lower now, almost conversational, but no less dangerous. "Yourrealname."
Desire radiated from her in waves that matched my own, evident in the hardened peak of her nipple between my fingers. And speaking of her nipples—gods above—her breasts were nothing short of exquisite. Each perfect mound was heavy and full against my palm, the soft weight filling my hand entirely. The contrast of her pale skin against my sun-darkened fingers made something savage stir within me.
Her flesh yielded to my touch, warm and pliant, yet the woman herself remained an enigma that threatened everything I'd built. How could someone so seemingly vulnerable wield such power? The contradiction made my head spin as much as the scent of her skin—like wildflowers after rain. That scent clouded my judgment with each ragged breath I took.
"What is your name?" I growled, my voice much rougher this time than before.
"I-I—" The words caught in her throat as I slid my hand down her body with purpose.
"No more hesitation. Your name."
I thrust my hand beneath her thighs, feeling the muscles tense beneath my palm as she gasped sharply at the sudden contact. The sound sent a bolt of satisfaction straight throughme—part conquest, part arousal. With casual strength that brooked no resistance, I pushed her thighs apart, my fingers splaying wide to keep her open and vulnerable beneath me. The position left her completely exposed to my touch, unable to close herself off from what I intended to do.
The thin fabric of her shift offered no real protection against my exploration, the delicate muslin so fine it might as well have been nothing at all. Through the gossamer material, I could feel every curve, every hollow, every secret place that no man had ever touched. My fingers pressed against her opening, separated from her most intimate place by only that whisper-thin layer of cloth that grew damper by the second.
Her breath caught sharply in her throat, the sound rough and desperate as heat bloomed beneath my touch like fire catching kindling. Even through the fabric barrier, I could feel her body's betrayal—the way she grew slick and ready despite her protests, despite the fear that made her pulse race beneath my fingertips. The contradiction fascinated me: her mind might resist, but her flesh sang a different song entirely.
The dragon in my chest rumbled with approval, its ancient voice whispering dark promises of what was to come.Make her burn for us.The beast's hunger merged with my own until I couldn't tell where Arthur ended and the dragon began.
My eyes never left hers as my fingers pressed more firmly against the outside of her quim through the thin muslin.
She placed her hand against my arm as if to push my hand away from her, but once I began to rub the small bud just above her opening, her fingers closed over my arm instead.
