I blew out a breath, almost afraid to take this step with her. What if she hated me after, if I hurt her?
“Are you sure?”
“Trajan, I’ve been muzzled and voiceless foryears.” She pressed her palms to my chest again, drawing a purr from my dragon. “I want you to hear me and know it for the truth. I want you, not just for my pleasure. I want to give it to you too.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I admitted.
She bit her bottom lip, glancing down at the giant tent beneath my towel. “Let me lead then,” she said then added, “Lie back on the bed.”
XXILELA
It was my turn to take control. Trajan removed his towel and lay back against his pillow, lacing his fingers behind his head. I lifted myself over him, straddling his cock. My heart raced, but not with fear. It was nowhere in this room. Trajan watched me. So did his dragon as I slid down and rocked my cunt over the length of his cock. His eyes rolled closed on a groan, pulsing his hips gently in rhythm with mine.
I rocked my cunt over his cock, soaking whatever fabric was between us. His grip tightened in my hair.
“Lela,” he breathed—a warning.
His control was slipping, or perhaps gone already. Rather than wonder at the odd realization that I wanted this man inside me, I simply acted.
Reaching down between us, I lifted the hem of the towel out of the way. I stared down, pausing at the sight of him. He was beautifully made. Then I gripped the base.
“Fuck,” he muttered, thrusting up into my hand.
Raising myself above him, I held his gaze as I sank down, taking him inside me. I whimpered at the intrusion, his gaze holding mine, his fingers curling into the flesh of my bare hips under the folds of my dress. The flood of pleasure shocked me, my mouth agape at the foreign sensation.
I’d forgotten what this was like. It had been so very long.
I rose up then sank down again, noting his pupils had slit, his dragon purring a growl.
“Ah.” I released a small cry as I seated myself fully on his thick cock.
His grip on my hips tightened, holding me still. Sitting up, he opened his mouth on one nipple and sucked, flicking his tongue around the tight nub. I squirmed, wanting to move.
“Don’t move,” he commanded, scraping his teeth against my sensitive nipple.
I curled one hand into his muscular shoulder, the other sliding into his hair, holding his head to my breast.
“I want you to move,” I whispered.
He ignored me and tended to my other breast, suckling and flicking, teasing me into a mess of arousal. I tried to rock my hips, but he kept me still, unable to lift up.
“I want it,” I confessed in the dark. Now I was the one pleading.
“What do you want?” He breathed against the base of my throat, kissing up my neck, the bristles of his beard tickling my skin.
It felt so good, I could hardly believe it, my heart hammering fast behind my breast.
“I want it hard and fast,” I told him.
“You need it soft and slow,” he rebutted.
I made a sound of frustration, pulling on his hair. “You’re supposed to let me lead.”
“Trust me,” he murmured.
He then lifted and laid me back on the mattress then eased between my legs, sinking slowly back inside me. He gripped my thighs, spreading them wider. Gently, he pulled out and slid back inside me. It was a slow, sensual grind.
“Faster,” I pleaded, scraping my blunt nails at the bare skin of his nape, the tenderness of his handling too much for me.
