He fought it, muscles locking, sweat breaking out on his skin. He wanted to lose himself in her mouth, but not like this. Not the first time.
“Isla,” he gritted out. “Wait.”
She released him with a soft, wet sound, looking up with dazed, questioning eyes. He reached for her, his hands trembling slightly as he pulled her up his body.
“Not like that,” he said, his thumbs stroking her flushed cheeks. “I want to come apart inside you. I want to feel you around me when I do.”
Isla hovered above him, her warm skin flushed with desire. Damon lay on his back, his body a taut line of anticipation, every muscle coiled with the effort of restraint.
“How do you want me?” His voice was rough, stripped of its usual control.
Her hazel eyes, bright even in the dim light, held a spark of determination. “I want to take control.”
A surge of possessive instinct flashed through him—the Alpha, the protector, the one who should lead. But he smothered it. This was her choice.
“Go ahead,” he said, his gaze locked on hers. “Take what you need from me.”
Settling over him, she straddled his hips, her knees pressing into the mattress beside him. The sight of her there, her auburn hair cascading around her shoulders, her breasts swaying gently with her movement, was a vision of such raw, devastating beauty that his control frayed. His dragon surged forward. But Damon clenched his jaw, focusing on the feel of her warm thighs against his and the soft pressure of her weight. He forced the beast back into its cage.
Tonight was about her. About giving.
Her hand dipped between them, her fingers cool against his heated skin. She grasped him, her touch confident, and guided his cock to her entrance. The head of his shaft met her slick heat, and Damon’s breath hitched.
Then she began to sink down.
It was an agonizing, exquisite descent. Inch by inch, she took him, her body opening to accommodate his large size. The sensation was beyond anything he’d ever known—a perfect warmth that fit him like a lock made for a single key. She was so tight, so warm, so utterly perfect that it felt like the universe itself had designed them for this union.
She let out a loud, shuddering moan as she finally took him fully, her body stretching to its limit. “Damon…”
His name on her lips, gasped with that mix of pleasure and slight overwhelm, was a prayer. He reached up, his hands settling on her hips, his grip firm but not forceful—an anchor, not a command.
Then she began to move.
Her rhythm was slow, deliberate, a maddening rise and fall that sent waves of pleasure crashing through him. Each time she lifted, the cool air kissed his heated skin; each time she sank back down, he was enveloped in her perfect heat. His body responded instinctively, his hips lifting in a controlled, steady thrust to meet her descent. It was a dance, synchronized and deep, the mate bond between them humming like a plucked string, resonating with shared sensation.
He could feel her pleasure mounting through the bond, a tightening coil of need. And soon her rhythm faltered, becoming less steady and more urgent. Her breaths turned to sharp pants.
“Let go,” he urged, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh of her hips. “Take all you need from me.”
As if his words broke a dam, her pace quickened. She rose higher, sank deeper, her movements growing frantic.
“Harder,” she pleaded, her voice breaking. “Damon, go deeper.”
He willingly obeyed.
With a grunt of unleashed power, he thrust up into her, driving deep. He angled his hips, seeking that spot he knewwould unravel her. When he found it, her cry was a sharp, beautiful sound of pure ecstasy. Her inner walls clenched around him, a rhythmic, milking pulse that signaled her climax.
The sensation of her coming undone above him, the shared explosion of pleasure rocketing through the mate bond, was the final trigger.
His own control shattered.
A century of restraint, of frozen solitude, of denying any release, exploded out of him. His orgasm was a cataclysm, a raw force of nature that tore through his body. He roared, a sound more beast than man, as he spilled his seed deep inside her, claiming her in the most primal way his body could. He pulsed into her, each wave of release a surrender to a need he’d forgotten he possessed.
It was not the full claiming. He did not give her his dragon’s mark; that would wait for her conscious choice. But this was a claiming nonetheless, a physical bond that sealed them together in the aftermath.
As the last tremors of their shared climax faded, he gently guided her collapsing form against his side. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight against the rapid beat of his heart. Her skin was slick with sweat and her hair a tangled veil over his shoulder. She nestled into him, her body soft and pliant, and made no move to leave.
That simple choice—to stay—sent a flood of joy through him that was almost painful in its intensity. He held her through the night, listening to her breathing settle into a deep, even rhythm. The warmth of her in his arms and the weight of her trust were a treasure he’d never imagined possessing.
