He was hard as an anvil already. The gods were still swirling the storms of passion outside.
Einin explored his chest with her slim fingers.
He flattened her hand against his hot skin under his palm. “I don’t want to hurt you even more.”
She stilled. But a moment later, her lips brushed against his shoulder, as if she couldn’t stop.
He knew how she felt. The air was thick with lust. And now the cave held the scent of their lovemaking and mutual arousal. His sensitive dragon nose could not avoid it. His body pulsed with need so sharp as to be on the edge of pain.
“When will it stop?” Even as she asked, she bit him.
Hot pleasure cut through him as her small teeth sank into his skin. “When the gods finish.”
She moved over him, sprawling over his body, burying her face into his neck as if trying to hide. “I can’t. I can’t,” she begged, but then she kissed his collarbone and sucked on his skin.
He wrapped his arms around her, the thought that he couldn’t keep her safe killing him. “I know.”
She squirmed on top of him, on his hardness. “But I need…” She nearly cried with the words.
He soothed the delicate curve of her back with his large hands. “I know, sweeting.”
A sob escaped her.
“Straddle me,” he said.
She sat at once, one knee on either side of him, her pale breasts glowing in the darkness of the cave.
Draknart folded his hands under his head so he couldn’t grab her. “Do what you want, sweeting. Take what you need.”
She squirmed in distress, not fully understanding. “I need…” She gasped in distress. “Inside me.”
“Take it, then. As slow as you need. As much as helps.”
Understanding at last, she rose to her knees, then reached for his full hardness. When her fingers closed around him, he couldn’t help the groan that tore from his throat. He thrust into her hands. When she didn’t protest, he kept thrusting. He didn’t stop until she brought him to her opening.
He didn’t want to hurt her again, so he held himself completely still as she slowly, experimentally lowered herself onto him.
She took in only the swollen head at first, then sank a bit lower, then another bit. She winced and gasped all the way down, but she took him in to the root. Then she squirmed to adjust to him being inside her again, and the next gasp that left her lips was a sound of pleasure.
Her gaze begged him. She was clearly at a loss as to what to do next.
“Ride me as you would a horse.”
The image that immediately invaded his head was nearly enough to make him spend inside her all over again. He gritted his teeth to hold still instead of grabbing her hips and pumping into her with wild abandon.
She began to move, up and down, riding, grinding. She let her head fall back, her silken hair cascading down her sweet body. Her puckered nipples thrust forward with every move she made.
He wanted to touch them but didn’t dare remove his hands from under his head. He would not take over. He would stop himself.
Yet he couldn’t stop himself completely.
“Take your nipples between your fingers for me, sweeting,” he told her, “and roll them.”
She looked shocked, but she was desperate for something more, and she trusted that what he advised would help. So she cupped her firm breasts in her small hands, covered them with her palms first, ran a tentative caress over her nipples, and moaned, her eyes glazing over.
“Now pinch them,” he ordered.
She did and cried out in shocked delight.
