Page 43 of The Dragon’s Good Girl

I have to go slow. She's so fucking tight and hot, her pussy gripping every inch of me like she was carved out just to take it, and the drag of her undoes every scrap of my control in one long, perfect stroke. She whimpers when I bottom out, hips flush to hers, buried to the root inside her.

Her hand slides down between us and finds the thick ridge at my base, and her eyes go wide. "Is that your knot?"

"Don't worry, I won't knot you. Not tonight." I catch her wrist and press a kiss to her palm, holding on to my control with my teeth.

The sound she makes tells me she's already thinking about it.

"Fuck." It punches out of me. "Fuck, Angel, you feel like coming home. Like you were made for me."

Heat surges through me, sudden enough that I lose my grip on the parts of myself I usually keep hidden. I feel my pupils narrow first, my vision sharpening, and then bronze scales begin to surface along my forearms.

I notice them a second too late.

Six hundred years of control, and Margot is enough to make my body forget it's supposed to look human.

Her fingers close around my arm.

For one awful second, I expect her to pull away.

Instead, she runs her fingertips over the scales, slowly at first, exploring the ridges with open curiosity. Her hips roll against mine as she does it, drawing me deeper, and when I look at her face, there isn't a trace of fear there.

She's watching me.

Not the human shape I've spent centuries perfecting.

Me.

She isn't afraid. She's chasing more.

I start to move again, and whatever restraint I had left goes with the touch of her fingers over my scales. The careful pace I'd been holding onto disappears, turning harder and more demanding. I fist one hand in the sheets when I feel my claws threatening to surface, while the other stays beneath her thigh, holding her open as I drive into her. She takes all of it. Every thrust, every filthy word I growl into her throat. "That's it, take all of your dragon's cock."

"You feel so fucking good wrapped around me." The room fills with the sound of it—the slap of our skin, our ragged breaths, her voice climbing higher and higher.

"Right there," she gasps. "Don't stop, please, please—"

"I've got you." Heat pours off my skin in a wave. "Come on my cock. Give me that pretty little orgasm, Angel. Let me feel you milk me."

"Please—" Her voice breaks open. "Please, Daddy—"

The word goes through me like a lance. Smoke pours past my nostrils, and my rhythm stutters for the first time in hundreds of years.

"Say that again."

"Daddy." Softer now, sure of it, her eyes on mine. "Please."

She comes around me a second time, her inner walls clenching so hard she nearly takes me with her, and I hold on by a thread, working her through it while everything I've wanted and never let myself keep pours into her.

When I follow her over, when it finally takes me apart, the word that leaves my mouth isn't a term of praise.

"Mine."

I roar the word as I empty myself into her, pumping my seed deep inside her, filling her to the brim as I grind my hips down, the word torn out of me before I can think. Not a Dom speaking to his sub.

A dragon over its hoard.

I stay in her after, braced on my forearms so I don't crush her, my forehead dropped to hers while both of us come down. The scales along my arms gradually disappear, though my eyes take longer to return to normal. Margot watches the change without comment, one hand still resting against my arm as though she's reluctant to lose the last of them.

I don't take it back. I meant it.