Page 102 of The Dragon Warlord

He should laugh in my face and finally push me off his lap. He doesn’t. He responds with a firm hand to my nape, pinning me there.

“No.”

Huh?

“Because I’m going to kiss you.”

My head is guided to his and while I wouldn’t call it a yank, there’s unrelenting firmness at the helm. Our lips meet like we do when we’re about to cover each other in battle. There’s familiarity and knowing where the other is and how we’ll move. There’s assurance like no other even more solid than his thighs underneath my arse.

And then he takes my breath and it’s a good thing I can live without oxygen for a little while. His tongue passes over my dragon fangs as he explores every crevice of my mouth. Every moment he’s deprived himself of touching me is released into his kisses, his sucking, his ramming his tongue down my throat as he tries to crawl further inside of me.

He rips his face away from mine to stare as we both grasp at the air desperately for breath and then he dives in again. It’s hurried and impatient kissing this time like he’s unable to get enough of me at once. My inner dragon preens at the possessive potency of his kisses.

“You mean everything to me,” he says between sucking the life out of me. Standing, he brings me with him, carrying me easily with his massive Elf form and dragon strength. I squeeze my legs around his torso anyway. He’s the kind of man you have to hold onto for dear life. I allow my hands to cup his jawline.

We don’t stop kissing as he travels to the bed—his bed—and lays me down. “Are you warm, you little kissing minx?”

I smile. “Very. I’m heating right up.”

“I wonder why?” His words are laced with all the sarcasm he intends. I get to watch as he removes his long-sleeved white night shirt and admire his dark-olive Markaytian skin. His fingers slip under the waistband of my shorts, and they’re unceremoniously tugged off.

Is he…? Is it going to be tonight?

“No,” he says, laughing.

“Did I say that out loud … or through our connection?”

He shakes his head. “Neither. I just know you too well and it’s written on your face.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“I’m going to show you how awesome blowjobs are.”

“What?”

That’s all I have time to push out as far as words go. His mouth is on my hardened cock, and I think I might die. It would be a good death if not an honorable one. Who needs honor? Deviant deaths are the way to go. I can confirm that now.

I don’t have anything to compare him to, but I can say with certainty he’s skilled. A man with three husbands has got to be, right? I don’t know what to hang onto. The sheets? His head? So, I scrabble until I settle on both—one hand clawing the sheets and one securely gripping his long dark hair.

A thumb presses over my hole. It doesn’t even go inside, just presses against it and I almost lose my mind. His wet mouth, fondling my secret never-been-touched places is too much.

And not enough.

His mouth pops off and I whimper. “So far, so good?” he says.

“Mhmm. Please don’t stop.”

“As you wish.”

This is the dirtiest thing I’ve ever done—done, not dreamed up—a simple blowjob and yet I’m feeling worshipped. It’s like he’s serving me and not the other way around. I don’t have an alpha bone in my body, and I don’t wish to be served, I only want to serve, but this feels different than what I do for him. Almost like a thank you. Like doting.

He uses the slick that’s leaking from me to oil my cock and then sucks it off me when his hot mouth inhales me again. Fuck that’s dirty. Would others think that’s dirty? Who can I ask? I don’t want the Warlord to think I’m a child.

“Riv? Where’d you go? I lost you. You went from howling like a screeching to Hymta-level silence.”

“Sorry, Alpha. I was thinking.”

“Aaaaaaand I’ve lost my touch.”