Page 20 of Beast of Blood and Ash (Drakarn Mates #6)
He surged across the platform, heat rolling off his skin to cover me in a protective, intoxicating shadow.
His body bracketed mine, claws carving furrows into the blanket beside my thigh, but never touching me.
The restraint in him was a jaw-clenching, painful thing to witness.
I could see it in the flex of his biceps, in the tense coil of his wings.
We kissed, mouths crushed together, gasping in a frantic prayer. His tongue explored the seam of my mouth, the sharp spark of his taste, a blend of honey and fire, passing back and forth between us.
His claws, deadly and strong, curled under my thigh.
He used the flat of them to nudge my knees apart, careful and gentle, never once scratching.
His wings flared behind him, creating a cocoon of heat and shadow.
My legs fell open, wide and welcoming, my nerves thrumming with the fear of being this exposed, and the wild power in letting him see me wrecked for him.
He didn’t hesitate. Omvar dropped lower, his breath hot and unsteady on my thigh as he trailed open-mouthed kisses from my knee to my hip. His thick tongue, longer than any human’s, started at my inner knee and made its way up, slow, torturous, leaving a slick, blazing line in its wake.
When he reached my core, I nearly jerked away, the shock of pleasure so sharp it hurt. His mouth sealed over my clit, his tongue flicking and swirling in a rhythm that stole every rational thought.
I collapsed backward, my spine arching, my fists gripping the twisted bedding above my head.
He was relentless. His tongue plunged inside me, then out, alternating between slow, worshipful swipes and rapid-fire flicks that sent shudders crashing through me.
The tip was impossibly agile, pressing patterns into the swollen, needy flesh.
His teeth grazed so gently that even the threat of pain amplified the pleasure.
His claws stayed splayed, carefully bracketing my thighs and hips, their lethal points catching the light but never once threatening. They curled just away from my skin, broadcasting the truth.
He could destroy me, but he was trying so hard not to. I’d never felt safer. I’d never felt more adored.
I let myself go. I let myself be devoured, cherished, undone by the firestorm building between my legs.
The old terror was still there, an echo of cages and chains, but it was smaller than this.
It was smaller than the want flooding my veins, smaller than the wild sound tearing from my throat, smaller than the way my body clenched and shook as Omvar coaxed every ounce of pleasure from me.
I came, loud and brilliant, pleasure shattering through me in shockwaves. I let myself scream, let the whole city know I was alive. Let them know I had survived. That I was his.
Not Skorai’s, not Ignarath’s, not a victim, not anymore.
When my body finally stopped twitching, I opened my eyes to find Omvar crawling up the length of me. His body moved like a predatory god, nothing human in his grace or hunger. He captured my mouth, kissing me deep. I tasted myself on his tongue, sweet and salty and new.
I wanted more. I reached for him, drawing him down until his weight bracketed mine, careful but unyielding. "Touch me there." My hand guided his, dragging his claws to my breast, to the aching heat between my thighs.
He followed every order. He kissed where I begged, his tongue rolling over every desperate inch. He asked for nothing and gave me everything.
The burning, unique pressure of his cock pressed against my entrance. The tip pulsed, weeping slick fluid, his scent wild and primal. “Are you ready?” His voice was hoarse, a guttural rasp.
“Yes,” I gasped. “Now. Please.”
He pressed in slowly, careful as ever, the ridged flesh stretching me with a heat and fullness unlike anything I’d ever known.
The mobile lip worked against me, caressing my clit before he sank deep.
The veins and scales provided a friction that rocketed me back toward the brink.
Every pump drove him deeper, the heat and difference of him making my body ring like a struck bell.
We moved together, bodies slick and frantic, breath mingling.
My hands grasped the sharp lines of his hips, pulling him into me, guiding his thrusts.
He grunted, a raw, open sound, twisting his hips to grind that strange, writhing tip against every sensitive spot inside me.
I sobbed his name, chanted it, my voice breaking each time lightning forked through my center.
I felt something ignite within me. It scorched every cell, burning away old scars and shame, leaving only the bright, impossible joy of being exactly where I belonged.
We came together, loud and undone, each of us clinging to the other in the wreckage of our own surrender.
Omvar’s body shook, his roar muffled against my neck, his cock flexing inside me, releasing more heat and scent. I held him, held us, and let myself believe, for once, that healing could be this wild.
That it could be this real.
He collapsed beside me, gathering me under his wing, our chests heaving together. Warm, dense silence spread between us.
I curled into him, a little raw, a little wild. My legs still quivered, every muscle slack with aftershocks. The stone was cool under my back. His body radiated heat, his scales sticky with sweat and pleasure.
He was stiff beside me, not quite at ease. His arm was locked tight, his gold eyes watching the door.
“No one will lay a claw on you as long as I breathe,” he whispered, his voice a promise forged between worlds.
If I could believe in anything, I could believe in that.