Page 11 of Curvy Girl and the Single Dad Dragon (Cedar Falls: Fated Mates #2)
I can't believe I'm holding hands with a dragon. A six-hundred-and-thirty-something-year-old dragon who just kissed me senseless on his couch after showing me literal magic fire in the palm of his hand.
What the hell am I doing?
But as we walk the short path to the guest house, I can't deny whatever is happening and growing between us.
Damon Thorne is nothing like the men I've known before—boys, really, compared to him. He carries himself with a confidence that comes from centuries of experience, not arrogance. Every move he makes is right and sure, as if he's constantly aware of his own power.
And God, is he handsome. The moonlight catches in his dark hair and illuminates the sharp angles of his face. His golden eyes seem to glow in the darkness, and I remember how they brightened when he summoned that flame, how the embers danced around his head like a crown of fire.
Since that moment, I've been fighting an increasingly losing battle with my own body.
I've always been hornier than most—embarrassingly so, according to my last boyfriend who seemed to think my natural lubrication was somehow excessive.
I'd learned to be self-conscious about it, but right now, I couldn't care less.
My body is reacting to Damon in ways I've never experienced before.
We reach the door to the guest house too quickly. I turn to face him, reluctant to end our evening despite knowing we both need time to process what's happening between us.
"Thank you for walking me back," I say, my voice sounding breathier than I intended.
"My pleasure."
His deep voice seems to rumble through me, sending another wave of heat to my core, and, at this point, I’m way past dripping. I shift slightly, pressing my thighs together to ease the ache building there. "Well... goodnight, then."
He nods, but neither of us moves. The tension between us is palpable, crackling like the embers that floated from his fire.
I should go inside. I should say goodnight properly and close the door and take a very cold shower. Instead, I find myself leaning toward him, drawn by some invisible force I can't resist.
His lips meet mine again, and this time there's nothing kind about the kiss. His mouth is hot, demanding, his large hand coming up to cradle the back of my head. I press myself against him, feeling the solid wall of his chest, the incredible heat of his body.
When we finally break apart, I'm dizzy with want. I fumble with the door handle, needing to escape before I do something truly reckless, like invite a dragon into my bed on our first real day of knowing each other.
I step inside the guest house but turn back to say goodnight one last time. To my surprise, Damon remains on the threshold, his expression intense, almost scary. His golden eyes are glowing now, not with magic but with something equally powerful.
"Is everything okay?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
He takes a deep breath, and his nostrils flare slightly. "I'm having... difficulty maintaining control."
"Control?" I repeat, confused.
"Dragon senses," he says, his voice rougher than before. "I can smell your arousal, Luna. And it's getting stronger."
Heat floods my face as embarrassment and excitement war within me.
"Oh God, I'm sorry, I didn't—"
"Don't apologize," he interrupts, taking a step toward me. "It's intoxicating. Like honey and spice and something uniquely you."
I swallow hard, my heart pounding against my ribs. "Damon, I—"
He moves with inhuman speed, suddenly standing before me when he was at the door a moment ago. I gasp, startled by the display of his supernatural abilities.
"W-what are you doing?" I stutter, backing up until my legs hit the couch.
"Taking what belongs to me," he growls, his voice deeper, rougher than I've ever heard it. Then he blinks, and something changes in his expression. "If you'll allow it," he adds, a hint of the gentleman I know returning.
I should be scared. I should be running. Instead, I'm melting under his gaze, practically vibrating with need. He's like something straight out of the fantasy novels I love—powerful, ancient, dangerous—but he's real. And he wants me.
"Yes," I whisper, the word escaping before I can overthink it.
He scoops me into his arms, one strong forearm supporting my weight while his other hand gently brushes my hair away from my face. I feel weightless in his embrace, completely at his mercy.
"You can stop me at any time," he says, his eyes searching mine. "Say the word, and this ends."
"I don't want it to end," I assure him, wrapping my arms around his neck. "I want you, Damon."
That's all the permission he needs. He carries me to the bedroom as if I weigh nothing, laying me gently on the bed before joining me. The mattress dips significantly under his weight, reminding me again of how much larger, stronger he is than me.
I notice a faint glow around his ears—tiny embers escaping with his quickened breathing—but my attention is quickly drawn to the prominent bulge straining against his jeans.
My mouth goes dry at the sight. He's proportional to his size, clearly, and the thought of him inside me sends another rush of wetness between my thighs.
As if reading my thoughts, he pulls his shirt over his head revealing a torso that makes me gasp aloud. His chest and abdomen are sculpted to perfection. A light dusting of dark hair trails from his chest down to disappear beneath his waistband.
I'm overcome with need, my body aching for relief. Without thinking, I slide a hand down my body and between my legs, pressing against the seam of my jeans where I need it most. The pressure is a momentary relief, but nowhere near enough.
Damon's eyes widen, then darken as he watches me touch myself. A slow, delighted smile spreads across his face. "Already ready for me, I see."
"I can't help it," I admit, beyond embarrassment now. "I've never wanted anyone like this."
"Good," he growls, his hands moving to the button of my jeans. "Because I can't wait another second to be inside you, to feel you, to be one with you."
I try to help him remove my clothes, but my fingers are clumsy with eagerness. He gently moves my hands aside, undressing me with care until I'm lying before him in nothing but my matching red bra and panties.
His eyes roam over my body with obvious appreciation.
"Red," he notes with a playful smirk. "My favorite color."
"If you love red so much," I taunt, finding my confidence in his clear desire, "maybe these should be decorating the floor too."
In response, he hooks a finger under the waistband of my panties and slowly, torturously drags them down my legs. My bra follows, and then I'm completely naked before him, exposed and vulnerable and so, so ready.
He stands to remove his own clothes, his movements quick and urgent now.
When he pulls down his jeans and boxers, I can't help but stare.
He's magnificent—thick and long, with a prominent vein running along the underside.
I instinctively reach for him, wrapping both hands around his shaft, marveling at how I can't quite make my fingers meet.
I give him two experimental strokes, then lick my palm to ease the friction before continuing. His head falls back, a groan escaping his throat, and I feel a surge of feminine power knowing I can affect him this way.
Releasing him, I lie back on the bed and spread my legs in invitation. "Well? Are you coming in?"
"You're going to be the death of me," he mutters, positioning himself above me.
"For an old dragon, you certainly have your weaknesses," I tease, running my hands up his powerful arms.
He lowers himself until our faces are inches apart. "You're not a weakness, Luna," he says with unexpected tenderness. "You're a strength."
Before I can respond, he guides himself to my entrance and begins to push inside. The stretch is intense, bordering on uncomfortable despite how ready I am for him. I grip the sheets, tilting my head back as I adjust to his size.
"Okay?" he asks, holding still with obvious effort.
"More than okay," I assure him, wrapping my legs around his waist to draw him deeper.
He begins to move, establishing a rhythm that has me gasping with each thrust. His hair falls forward, framing his face as he watches me with those incredible golden eyes. A drop of sweat trails down his temple to his jaw, then falls to my heated skin.
The pleasure builds rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter in my core. Just as I'm about to topple over the edge, he stops moving completely.
"Damon," I whimper, digging my nails into his shoulders. "Please don't stop."
"I'm not done with you yet," he says, his voice rough with desire. "Turn over. On your knees."
I've never been particularly submissive in bed before, but something about Damon—his age, his power, his complete confidence—makes me eager to follow his lead.
I roll over, positioning myself on all fours as instructed. He moves behind me, one large hand gripping my hip while the other gathers my hair, using it to gently guide me into the position he wants: back arched, face pressed into the pillow.
When he enters me again from this angle, I cry out at the new, deeper sensation. He sets a relentless pace, one hand still in my hair while the other wraps around to circle the sensitive bundle of nerves at my center.
The dual stimulation is overwhelming. I'm completely at his mercy, pinned beneath him, filled by him, surrounded by his heat and scent and power.
The pleasure crests suddenly, violently, my entire body shuddering as waves of ecstasy wash through me.
My vision blurs, and I'm vaguely aware of my own voice crying out his name.
As I'm coming down from my high, Damon gently turns me onto my back again. His eyes are glowing now, actual embers visible in their depths as he positions himself above me once more. He enters me slowly this time, his gaze locked with mine.
"Luna," he murmurs, and just my name on his lips sends aftershocks of pleasure through me.
Each thrust hits something inside me that makes my whole body shudder. Just when I think I can't take anymore, he stiffens above me, his whole body going rigid as he finds his release. I feel the heat of it, the pulsing inside me as he empties himself with a groan that sounds almost pained.
As he collapses beside me, careful not to crush me with his weight, I feel the warm brush of smoke against my skin. I turn my head to see wisps escaping his nostrils with each heavy breath.