Page 24 of Davoren (Dragon Master Daddies #1)

My answer was wordless—a nod, a breath, a trembling that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with need.

I was ready. Had been ready since he'd first denied me, since Solmar's interruption, since perhaps the moment I'd first seen him in that cave.

Ready to be transformed one more time, not by magic but by pleasure so intense it would remake me at levels the bond hadn't touched.

Davoren stepped back from me with the slow deliberation of someone beginning a ritual.

His hands moved to his shirt. Each button came undone with maddening precision, revealing copper skin that the lava's light turned to living bronze.

The golden marks on his chest blazed brighter as each inch was exposed, creating their own light show against the caldera's glow.

His pants followed, and when he stood naked before me, I understood why humans had once worshiped dragons as gods.

His cock was impossible and perfect, that scaled texture catching the light like precious metal, the golden precum that beaded at the tip literally glowing with its own inner fire.

The tiny flames that danced along his length didn't burn—I knew that from before—but seeing them here, in this sacred space where he'd first taken form, they seemed more real.

This was dragon fire at its most intimate, creativity and destruction given the same root, the force that could make life or end it.

"You're staring," he said, and his voice carried amusement and heat in equal measure.

"How could I not?" The words came out rough, honest, making him smile in a way that transformed his austere features into something devastatingly beautiful.

He moved toward me with that liquid grace, and I thought he would undress me, but instead he lifted me—just lifted me like I weighed nothing, one arm under my knees, the other supporting my back.

The gesture was so tender, so at odds with the sexual tension thrumming between us, that it made my chest tight with emotion I couldn't name.

When he lowered me into the nest of solidified dragon flame, the sensation defied every expectation.

It was soft—impossibly, inexplicably soft, like being laid on clouds that had been woven from light itself.

But more than soft, it was warm in a way that went beyond temperature.

The dragon flame recognized what I'd become, welcomed me like I'd always belonged here, and I felt it adapting to my body, cradling every curve, supporting me perfectly.

The dress had to go, but Davoren didn't rush.

He traced the neckline first, fingers following the edge where fabric met skin, and even that light touch sent cascades of need through me.

When he finally pulled the silk up and over my head, the exposure felt like revelation.

Here, in his most sacred space, naked except for the collar that marked me as his, I felt more myself than I ever had.

"Look at you," he breathed, and the reverence in his voice made tears prick my eyes. "My fierce little mate, transformed and perfect, wearing my marks like you were born for them."

He joined me in the nest, and the solidified flame adjusted to accommodate us both, creating a perfect cradle for two bodies about to become one.

But he didn't rush to claim me. Instead, he kissed me—really kissed me, not the demanding possession of before but something deeper.

His lips were soft against mine, moving with a tenderness that spoke of millennia of loneliness finally ending.

I tasted copper and flame on his tongue, felt the rumble of his dragon nature in the way he hummed against my mouth.

The kiss went on and on, deep and drugging, until I was dizzy with it.

His hands framed my face like I was something precious, thumbs stroking my cheekbones with devastating gentleness.

Through the bond, I felt his emotions—not just lust but something profound, something that had been sleeping for eons and was finally waking up.

Love, maybe, though that word seemed too small for what moved between us.

When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard, and his eyes had gone from ember to molten gold.

"Let me worship you," he said, and it wasn't a question.

His mouth traced the path of the golden lines on my skin, starting at my collar and working downward with methodical precision.

His tongue was hot—dragon-hot, almost burning but not quite—and everywhere it touched sent sparks through my nervous system.

He followed the marks down my arms, across my collarbones, between my breasts.

He spent long minutes on each nipple, sucking and licking until I was writhing beneath him, my hands tangled in his white hair.

"Please," I gasped, but he was far from done.

His worship moved lower, tongue tracing the golden lines that spiraled across my stomach.

He found sensitive spots I didn't know existed—the hollow of my hip, the crease where thigh met pelvis, the soft skin of my inner thighs.

Each discovery made him hum with satisfaction, the vibration traveling through his tongue directly into my skin.

When his mouth finally found my center, I nearly came from the first touch alone.

Three denied edges had left me so sensitized that his tongue felt like lightning.

He worked with the same patience he'd brought to everything else, but now I could feel his control fraying through the bond.

He wanted this as much as I did—wanted to taste my pleasure, to feel me shatter against his mouth.

His tongue circled my clit with devastating precision, then pressed flat against it, alternating patterns that had me pulling at his hair, my thighs trembling uncontrollably.

"That's it," he murmured against me, the words sending vibrations through already oversensitive flesh. "Let go, little one. Let yourself feel everything."

He slid two fingers inside me, curling them to find that spot that made my vision white out.

The combination of his fingers and tongue working in perfect rhythm was too much.

The pressure that had been building since our first interrupted scene came roaring back, concentrated and powerful and impossible to resist. I was climbing, climbing, almost there—

"Look at me," he commanded, and when I forced my eyes open, his gaze held mine with intensity that went beyond physical. "Fall for me, my mate. Shatter."

He sealed his mouth over my clit and sucked, fingers pressing that perfect spot, and I screamed as the first edge crested.

But he didn't stop, didn't let me come down.

He worked me through it and straight toward another peak, his dragon strength holding me in place when I tried to writhe away from the overwhelming sensation.

"Again," he commanded, and I did, coming so hard my back bowed off the nest.

Still he didn't stop. A third orgasm built impossibly fast, my body no longer fully under my control. I was sobbing now, tears streaming down my face from the intensity, every nerve ending on fire with pleasure that bordered on too much.

Only when I came the third time, screaming his name to the stars visible through the caldera's opening, did he finally pull back.

He moved up my body with predatory grace, his cock pressing against my entrance, the scaled texture and impossible heat making me clench with need despite the three orgasms he'd just given me.

"Now," he said, voice rough with his own need. "Now I claim you properly."

He looked into my eyes, ember meeting whatever fire now lived in mine, and pressed forward in one slow, deep thrust that seemed to go on forever.

The scaled texture dragged against my inner walls in ways that made my oversensitive body sing.

The heat of him, the golden precum that sparked and sizzled, the sheer size stretching me to my limit—it was overwhelming and perfect and exactly what I'd needed since he'd first denied me.

When he was fully seated, buried so deep I could feel him in my soul, we both stopped breathing for a moment.

The connection was complete—not just physical but spiritual, the bond singing its satisfaction through both of us.

Here, in the place where he'd first drawn breath, he was inside me in every way that mattered.

He began to move, and I learned what it meant to be claimed by a dragon in his place of power.

Each thrust was deliberate, measured, the scaled texture of his cock creating friction that sent sparks through every nerve.

The rhythm he set was slow at first, almost gentle, but I could feel through the bond how much that control cost him.

His need crashed against mine in waves, building with each movement until I couldn't tell where his pleasure ended and mine began.

The solidified dragon flame beneath us responded to our joining, growing warmer, glowing brighter, until we were making love in a nest of living light.

The lava lake seemed to pulse in time with his thrusts, the entire caldera becoming part of our union.

Above us, the stars wheeled across the volcano's opening, silent witnesses to something that transcended human understanding.

"Mine," he growled against my throat, and the word carried harmonics that resonated in my bones. His hips snapped forward harder, the gentleness giving way to something more primal. "My fierce little mate, my precious one, mine forever."

"Yours," I gasped back, my nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks that healed instantly. "Daddy, please, I need—"

"I know what you need." His hand came between us, thumb finding my clit with devastating accuracy.

The combination of his cock stretching me, the scaled texture dragging against that perfect spot inside, and his thumb circling with exactly the right pressure—it was too much and not enough and everything.