And God help me, I love it. I love it when he takes me like this. Rough. Demanding. No pretense of gentleness or romance. Just raw need and possession.
"That's right. Fight me. Clench around my cock like you're trying to push me out."
Yes. Yes, talk to me like that. Call me names. Degrade me. Make me feel something other than the endless nothing.
Hunger. I'm hungry for him in a way that terrifies me. Hungry for his touch, his voice, his massive cock splitting me open. Hungry for these moments when I feel real, when I exist as more than just a consciousness floating in darkness.
His words send heat flooding through me even as shame burns in my chest. What's wrong with me? Why do I crave this? Why does my trapped body respond so eagerly to his degradation, to being called his slut, his whore, his desperate little fucktoy?
I love him. God help me, I love him more than I've ever loved anything. More than I loved my family, my freedom, my own life. The thought should horrify me. It does horrify me. But it's also the truest thing I know.
My walls clench around him involuntarily, on purpose, answering for me.Yes. Yes, I'll take it. I'll take everything you give me because it's all I have. All I want. Because you're everything to me and I hate that you're everything to me, but I can't stop it, can't change it, can't make myself want anything else.
And here, in the darkness, in this prison of flesh and silence, I don't have to question it. I don't have to examine it or justify it or understand it. I can just feel.
"Such a good little slut for me. You'll take every inch I give you. Won't you?"
The stretch is intense. It always is. His thick cock forces my body to accommodate something it was never designed for. But my body knows him now. Seventy-three years of this, and my body has learned to soften and yield and accept every impossible inch.
More than accept.Crave.
I'm climbing toward orgasm already, my body responding with practiced ease to his brutal rhythm. The pleasure builds with each thrust, each drag of those ridges, each degrading word that falls from his lips.
"Such a desperate little whore. Your cunt clenches every time I call you that."
Three times. Four. Five. He takes me over and over, and each time I come silently, trapped in my body, the pleasure crashes through me with nowhere to go. Each time I think maybe this will be enough, maybe now he'll stop.
When he finally collapses beside me, pulling me against his scaled chest, his wings draping over us both, I feel the familiar comfort of his presence. The weight of him. The warmth. The rumble of his deep voice as it reverberates through me.
Then he speaks, and everything changes.
"Adelaide. I need to tell you something. Something I learned. About us."
His voice is shaking. I've never heard him sound like this before. Uncertain, almost afraid.
"Things have felt off for a while now. Maybe they’ve felt that way for you also? I’ve been more… aggressive… Anyway… I went looking for answers in my library. In my spell books. There isn't an easy way to say this. But… from what I can tell… you're... you're my mate.”
My mind is spiraling. What is he talking about? There are too many questions in my mind to narrow them down.
“I know it sounds unbelievable but... we're fated mates. It's the only thing that makes sense. I didn't know—I swear I didn't know. But somewhere along the way, my magic recognized you. Claimed you. And the curse…" He’s breathing heavy. "The curse can't coexist with a mate bond. It's failing. We're both failing."
No. No, that's not possible. That can't be possible.
I'm human. He's a dragon. A monster. How can fate be that cruel? How can the universe look at a girl who was tricked and poisoned and imprisoned and decide that her captor is her destined mate?
“You're... you're my mate.”That’s the part that echoes in my mind. How?
Except... except it makes a horrible, perfect sense, doesn't it? Of course fate would do this to me. Of course the universe would look at my suffering and decide it wasn't enough. Of course my soulmate would be a dragon who stole my life.
A dragon.
My mate is adragon.
The absurdity of it crashes over me. I should be mated to a human. A prince, maybe, like the ones who keep trying to rescue me. Someone kind and gentle who would have courted me properly, who would have asked my father for my hand, who would have given me a normal life with normal children and a normal death at a normal age.
Instead, I'm bound to a creature of scales and wings and ancient magic. A creature who will live for thousands of years. A creature who has already lived for a thousand years.
And I'm... what? Human. Mortal. Temporary.
