Page 95 of Nine-Tenths

"Satisfied," he corrects, sliding up to worry a bruise onto my collarbone.

"You mean your dragon-instincts are satisfied," I protest, and it's no less impressive for the fact that I have to stop to yawn in the middle of it. "You're taking care of me. You fed me, you gave me a spectacular orgasm, and now we're going to cuddle and sleep."

"Cuddle," he scoffs playfully.

"Cuddle," I insist, and burrow into his chest. His heartbeat is right under my ear, a slow three-chamber waltz I assume all dragon hearts dance to.

Davsighs. So quietly. So contentedly. So… earnestly. It strikes like lightning, somewhere behind my eyes, pouring brightly down my throat, pooling warmly behind my heart. Is this what it means to be a Favorite? Is there something in the claiming that changes my own instincts, the way that it satisfies Dav's?

"Hmm," Dav says and I love the way Dav’s happiness makes me all bubbly and stupid in a good way. "I finally get to be the big spoon."

"Only because you’re being cute and kinky about it."

After that everything becomes a blur of skin, and heat, and kiss after kiss after kiss, as Dav gets his second wind, and applies himself like it's his mission in life to taste every last bit of my skin. He's making purring squeaky noises, which I assume is what all happy dragons sound like.

By the second orgasm, I'm flying high.

By the third, I'm ready to pledge my life to Dav, so long as he doesn't make me get out of this bed. I'm too noodle-limbed to even reach for the carafe of water on the side table. Dav catches my longing glance, and pours me a glass, holds it gently and tenderly to my lips.

It's sweet. It's service-toppy. It's perfect.

I amso goneon this guy.

Hydrated and content, I tuck up under his arm, my leg thrown over one of those glorious thighs. There's something intimate and trusting about the way he's letting me rest my soft dick on his bare hip. "Will you tell me now? What ‘I did it again’ means?"

"Tell you, hmm?" he asks, voice heavy with bliss.

He’s asleep before I can elaborate.

Never mind.

I'll ask again tomorrow.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Iquit. I had thrown five years of friendship in Hadi’s face, like a complete fuckhead. I have no job to go to. And no reason to be awake.

So why am I awake?

There's no alarm. No one is knocking on the door. Dav closed the curtains. And yet there’s light, right beside my face. Warm, golden light and the soft, gentle sound of birds chirping, and—

"Youasshole—"I laugh, bolting up and whacking him with a pillow. "You got a sunrise alarm clock?"

Dav giggles. It’s free and unfettered, andthank god.Watching the way his eyes squinch and that furrow between his eyes disappear sends desire unspooling down my spine. When I wind up for another whack, he yanks away the pillow and somehowgets me under him all in the same move and, fuck,yeah. I trap his waist between my thighs, and leer.

"Are you chafed?" he asks. Wow. A word likechafedshould not be sexy. And yet.

"Bit sore," I admit. "But I could go again."

"Best not," Mr. Bossypants Top decides.

His fingers brush idly through the short hair of my nape. I need a haircut. I didn't mind it shaggy before, when it helped hide my face from the paps. But now, laying in this meticulous room, with my carefully groomed boyfriend, (owner?boyfriend) I feel unkempt.

"How's this instead?" I ask, getting a hand wrapped around both of us. His eyelids flutter. He scrabbles for the lube he'd shoved between the mattress and the headboard last night.

"You're being pretty fucking smug," I point out, neck straining as I lean up to keep my eyes on the prize. Not that he doesn't deserve to be smug.

Dav slips a pillow under my head so my neck won't cramp. "I have everything I've wanted for months. Years, if I'm honest."