Page 17 of Davoren (Dragon Master Daddies #1)
When his thumb finally brushed across my nipple, I cried out at the sensation.
The oil made everything more—more intense, more immediate, more overwhelming.
He worked with methodical precision, one hand attending to my breast while the other traced patterns on my stomach, always moving lower but never quite reaching where I needed him most.
"Please," I gasped, not even sure what I was begging for.
More? Less? Everything? Nothing?
"Patience," he chided gently, but his hand finally moved between my thighs, fingers sliding through the wetness there with devastating accuracy.
The first touch to my clitoris made my vision white out for a moment, pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.
"There we are. So wet for me already. Your body knows exactly what it needs, doesn't it? "
His fingers worked with the same precision he'd brought to everything else, building a rhythm that had me pulling against the chains, hips moving desperately to meet his touch.
The oil made everything slick and hot, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through me that the bond amplified and reflected back.
I could feel his arousal building with mine, his satisfaction at my responses, his determination to push me exactly where he wanted me to go.
The pressure built with impossible speed, my transformed body far more responsive than my human form had ever been.
Every nerve ending seemed connected directly to my core, every brush of his fingers sending me higher.
My breathing came in gasps, my thighs trembling, that familiar tension coiling tighter and tighter in my belly.
"That's it," he encouraged, his free hand coming up to stroke my hair, a gesture so tender in contrast to what his other hand was doing that it nearly undid me completely. "Let yourself feel it. Let the pleasure build. You're so close, aren't you? So ready to shatter for me."
I was. I was so close I could taste it, that perfect edge where one more stroke would send me over. My entire body tensed, ready for that release, desperate for it—
And then he stopped.
His hand withdrew completely, leaving me empty and aching and right on the precipice with nowhere to fall. The denial hit like a physical blow, making me cry out in frustration, pulling hard against the chains that held me perfectly in place.
"No, please, I was so close—"
"I know," he said, stepping back to observe my frustration with what I could feel through the bond was deep satisfaction. "That's the point, little one. Your pleasure belongs to me now. I decide when you fall, if you fall."
The absence of his touch was agony. My body throbbed with need, every nerve ending screaming for the release he'd denied me. I pulled uselessly against the chains, my hips moving desperately, seeking friction that wasn't there.
I writhed against the chains, chasing the phantom sensation of his touch, my body screaming for release that had been so cruelly snatched away. The frustration was a living thing, clawing at my insides, making me pull uselessly against restraints that held me perfectly displayed for his pleasure.
"Please," I begged, not caring how desperate I sounded. Pride had been burned away by need, leaving only the aching emptiness where his fingers had been. "Please, Daddy, I need—"
"Patience, little one." His voice carried amusement and that dark satisfaction I could feel thrumming through the bond.
He moved back to the table of implements with deliberate slowness, letting me watch as he considered his options.
"We're just beginning. Your body has so much more to teach you about need. "
My eyes tracked his movements as he selected one of the implements I'd noticed earlier.
This close, I could see it was carved from crystal—the surface impossibly smooth, with an inner fire that seemed to pulse with its own heartbeat.
It was shaped with deliberate purpose, curved to hit specific spots, thick enough to be intimidating but not impossible.
"This," he said, holding it up so I could see it properly, "is carved from crystallized dragon flame.
It holds heat, responds to arousal, and knows exactly how to find the spots that will make you scream.
" He moved closer, and I could feel warmth radiating from the toy.
"And unlike fingers, it never gets tired. "
He traced it along my inner thigh first, letting me feel its temperature—warm but not burning, present in a way that made my mark pulse with recognition. The surface was slick with the same oil he'd used before, and when he finally pressed it against my entrance, I gasped at the sensation.
"So wet," he murmured, working the toy inside me with slow, deliberate movements. "Your body welcomes this so eagerly. See how you open for me?"
The crystal seemed to know exactly where to press, finding spots inside me that made my vision blur.
Each movement sent waves of pleasure through me that the golden lines on my skin amplified and reflected.
The second edge built faster than the first, my body already primed and desperate.
Within moments I was gasping, pulling against the chains, my hips moving desperately to meet each thrust of the toy.
"Look at you," Davoren said, his free hand coming up to stroke my hair again, that tender gesture that contrasted so perfectly with what he was doing to me. "So beautiful like this, lost in pleasure, chasing your release. You're close again, aren't you?"
I was. The pressure built with impossible speed, the crystal seeming to pulse with its own rhythm that matched my heartbeat. My thighs trembled, my breath coming in desperate gasps, every muscle tensing as I approached that edge—
He pulled the toy away.
The second denial was worse than the first. I actually screamed, pulling so hard against the chains that they flared brighter, adjusting their grip to keep me from hurting myself.
Tears gathered in my eyes from pure frustration, my body clenching around nothing, searching for stimulation that wasn't there.
"No, no, no, please, I can't—"
"You can," he said firmly, setting the crystal aside with careful precision. "And you will. One more edge, little one. One more lesson in patience."
I was sobbing now, tears streaming down my face, my body a live wire of need. When he dropped to his knees in front of me, I almost didn't understand what was happening. Then his hands gripped my thighs, spreading them wider, and his mouth—
The first touch of his tongue made me scream again, but this time from pleasure so intense it obliterated thought.
His mouth was impossibly hot, his tongue carrying that same dragon fire that marked his blood.
The sensation was unlike anything I'd ever felt—wet heat and pressure and a rhythm that seemed designed specifically to drive me insane.
He worked with the same methodical precision he'd brought to everything else, but there was something different about this.
Through the bond, I could feel his own arousal spiking, his control beginning to fray at the edges.
He wanted this—wanted to taste me, to feel me come apart against his mouth.
But his determination to teach me patience held firm.
His tongue found my clit with devastating accuracy, circling and pressing in patterns that had me pulling desperately against the chains.
One of his hands moved up to press against my lower stomach, holding me in place as his mouth worked its magic.
The pressure built faster than before, my body recognizing this might be my last chance, desperate to tip over before he could deny me again.
I was babbling now, words pouring out without thought. "Please, Daddy, please let me come, I'll be good, I'll be so good, I need it, please, please, please—"
He hummed against me, the vibration sending shockwaves through my core, and for a moment I thought he would let me fall. I was right there, right on that perfect edge, one more second would do it—
He pulled away completely.
The third denial broke something in me. I went limp in the chains, sobbing openly, every thought driven from my head except need.
I was nothing but sensation now, nothing but aching emptiness and desperate want.
The golden lines on my skin blazed like threaded suns, and through the bond I felt Davoren's satisfaction at my complete surrender.
"There we are," he said softly, standing with that liquid grace. "Now you understand. Your pleasure is mine to give or withhold. Your release happens at my command, not your body's demand."
I could only hang there, trembling, tears still streaming down my face, my body one raw nerve of need. Through blurred vision, I watched as he stepped back and finally, finally began to disrobe.
Each button he undid seemed to take an eternity.
His shirt fell away first, revealing a chest carved from copper and shadow, muscles that belonged on temple statues rather than living flesh.
The golden marks that matched mine traced patterns across his skin, glowing with their own inner fire.
His pants followed, and when he was finally naked before me, my breath caught in my throat.
His cock was impossible.
Not just the size—though it was intimidatingly large, thick enough that I wondered how it would ever fit—but the way it seemed touched by his dragon nature.
The skin had a subtle scaling pattern that caught the light, and the head literally glistened with golden precum that sparked and sizzled where drops hit the floor.
Tiny flames danced along the length, not burning but present, dragon fire made manifest in the most intimate way possible.
I'd never wanted anything more in my life.
"Please," I whispered, the word barely audible.
His smile was pure predator as he moved toward me. "Now, little one. Now you get your reward."