Page 103 of Academy of the Wicked: Year Three

“Gwen—fuck—” I snarl, but she just tightens her grip, swallowing around me, sucking every drop like she’s starved for it.

The orgasm is blinding. Dragon magic floods my system, burning through my veins, and for a second, I’m afraid I might hurt her with the force of it. But she doesn’t flinch. She takes it all, then lets me go with a long, slow lick up the shaft, tongue cleaning up the last bead of seed.

Fucking extraordinary…

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, eyes glassy and triumphant. “Not bad for remedial coursework,” she says, smirking.

“But I’m still waiting for the real test.”

My knees almost buckle, but I manage to stay upright, every muscle trembling with aftershock.

For a moment I just stand there, cock still twitching, staring at her like I’ve never seen a woman before.

“Stars above,” I manage, finally, “you’re…dangerous.”

She laughs again, a sound so bright and sharp I want to drink it straight from her throat.

Then she stands, closing the gap between us, and kisses me—hard, messy, her mouth hot and tasting of dragon and defiance and victory. I kiss her back, hungry and grateful and desperate for more.

If this is what she can do with her mouth, what will she be like when I take her for real?

The thought alone is enough to stir me back to full hardness, and she feels it, pressing her body against mine, hand sliding down my chest to wrap around my cock once more.

“Are you ready for the finale?” she whispers, eyes glowing, fangs glinting just behind her lips.

I nod, because there’s nothing else to do.

I want her. I need her bad…especially now that I know what she can do.

We won’t have another chance for this,

So I am determined to be the one who comes out on top.

I close the distance, cupping her jaw in both hands, and kiss her. Not the savage, blood-soaked kiss from before, but something slow and—gods help me—almost tender. My tongue strokes hers, careful and soothing, letting the chill of my magic cool the burn I know she’s feeling in her throat after taking me so deep.

She softens into me, just for a heartbeat. It’s a different kind of vulnerability, and I savor it, savor her, even as I feel the heat of her body trying to undo my careful restraint.

We break apart, breathless, foreheads pressed together, and I ask the question that matters.

“Are you sure you want this?”

There are a million reasons for her to say no. The trauma of the last day. The blood. The magic. The looming shadow of what waits for us when we leave this little pocket of sanctuary.

But she just laughs, low and rough and real, and climbs into my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck.

“Mortimer Kaine,” she says, rolling the words in her mouth like she’s savoring them, “I want this so bad it hurts. I know its maybe odd if you think it logically, but we’re shifters aren’t we? Do we spend all this time thinking logically?”

No. We don’t.

It makes me smirk.

She reaches down, finds my cock, and strokes it with deliberate slowness, like she wants to see how long it’ll take for me to crack. I can feel her slickness as she lines me up, hovering over the head, teasing both of us with the promise of what’s about to happen.

But she hesitates, just for a second, and looks me dead in the eye.

“Why did you wait so long?” she asks, voice softer now, edged with curiosity.

I’m caught off guard. It’s not a question I expected, not in this moment.