He reached for the flour bag, his movements too fast, too fueled by the need to just touch her.
Thwack.
A cloud of white powder burst across his chest, dusting his black shirt in a mock snowfall.
She laughed and reached out, tugging at his flour-dusted shirt with sticky fingers, deliberately leaving wet smudges.
“You’re making a mess, Rhavor. You’d better take it off before it is beyond washable,” she said with a smirk.
He didn’t need to be told twice. He ripped the fabric up and over his head, the cotton exposing his sculptured chest.
“Is there anywhere on you that isn’t solid?” she whispered, her finger traveling over the landscape of his torso, lingering on the faint, shimmering ridge of scales at his hips.
“There is,” he said, his eyes locking onto hers, glowing a faint, dangerous amber. “But not for long.”
He stepped behind her again, completely enveloping her. His hands closed over hers, pinning them to the floured worktop. Her ass pressed into him—soft, lush, perfect—and the dragon roared.
Mine.
He moved with her, guiding the dough between their joined hands. She leaned back, a soft sigh escaping as she surrendered to his strength.
“Don’t stop,” he murmured against her ear, his teeth grazing the lobe.
His hands slid from hers, working the front buttons of her dress. He cupped her bare breasts. His thumbs began to stroke slow, agonizing circles over her nipples until they peaked into tight buds.
She gasped, her kneading faltering. “Rhavor...”
“Keep going, Sylvie,” he growled, his breath hot. “You’re so sexy when you’re kneading like that.”
He could feel her wiggling against him, her curves grinding into his mounting hardness.
“You wiggle again and you have to deal with the consequences,” he warned, his voice lower by an octave.
She did it again. On purpose.
“That’s it. Bend over.”
She laughed—that light, breathless sound he adored—and leaned over the worktop, pulling up her dress to reveal the most delectable lace-covered ass.
He freed himself quickly. His cock was thick, the ridged scales at the base glistening with his arousal. He pulled her panties down and positioned himself, one hand brushing her wet folds, the other guiding his tip.
“You’re so ready for me, little berry.”
He squeezed her lush buttcheeks and she squinted with excitement.
“Rhavor, please. I need you inside,” she breathed.
He didn't wait. He drove into her with one powerful stroke, burying himself to the hilt in welcoming heat.
“You’re mine,” he growled.
She cried out, arching back, taking every inch as her walls stretched around him—hot, slick, perfect. She was tight, so fucking tight, her walls gripping him like velvet fire, and hegroaned at the sensation, every ridge of his cock dragging against her inner walls.
“Rhavor, please fuck me!” she begged, pushing back into him, her curves jiggling with every impact.
His hands gripped her hips, pulling her back onto him. He started moving, sliding in and out of her, his strokes growing deeper and longer as she adjusted to his size.
“You feel that?” he grunted, leaning over her to capture her earlobe between his teeth. “Every inch of me inside you. Taking me in like that.”
