Page 18 of Veiled Flames (Destiny of Dragons #1)

My heart skips a few beats and then fills with joyful anticipation, wondering exactly what he means. If he means more of the kissing, then I very much want to continue that too.

“But I don’t think it’s wise,” he says softly.

I drag in a ragged breath as if I’ve been punched. “Why not?”

Once again, I’m left feeling as if I’ve done something wrong. Like I’ve failed to please him. And at this moment, I’d give everything I possess to please this man.

“My reasons are many and complicated.” Removing his hand from my hair, he rakes his own back from his face. Suddenly, I want to bury my fingers, my nose, my whole body in his golden hair to better learn the scent of him.

“For one thing,” he says, “I’m much older than you.”

“You’re much younger than the man I was meant to marry.”

He chuckles, but then his expression turns serious again. “And I assume you are a maiden?”

I tip my head to the side, not certain what he means. He already knows my secret; he knows I’m not a boy.

“What I mean is,” he continues, “I assume you haven’t…have not yet been taken by a man…” He runs his tongue over his teeth. “Do you even know what that means? For a woman to be taken by a man?”

“I…” Images of Sky Stallion and the mare flash again. “I have some idea…”

His hand slides onto my thigh, and I inhale sharply as heat spreads from the contact. Then, while looking into my eyes, Saxon slides his hand, shifting it toward the inside of my thigh as it rises higher.

His touch sets me on fire. My back arches, my breaths come even more quickly, and my legs part to ease his progress. My body yearns to have him touch me between my legs again, even though I sense that it’s wicked.

As we gaze into each other’s eyes, his pupils widen, and his jaw hardens. Then he cups his hand between my legs, pressing its heel against the base as his fingers stroke over the seam of my breeches.

Shock makes me stiffen, but I quickly yield, leaning back and spreading my legs to welcome his touch over my most forbidden place. My breaths come even faster, like I’ve run across our entire kingdom and back.

What is happening to me?

He softens his pressure, and one of his fingers strokes alone, barely touching my breeches, tracing over the leather to tease the soft flesh below.

“Oh, I… Ah…” This feels even better than the harder stroking, each brush sending tingling fires to spread out from the point of contact.

Repeatedly, his finger flicks over me, and then his other hand draws mine forward, placing it firmly over his breeches.

Shocked by the hot hardness there, I try to draw my hand back.

He releases my wrist, but I return my hand to where he placed it, marveling at the shape and size and heat of his rod. And as I touch him, his thick hardness shifts, moving under the leather like a snake, like Surath’s tail.

“That hardness you feel?” His voice is very deep and hoarse now. “Do you know what that is?”

“I’m not—please tell me.”

A soft smile paints his lips. “That stiffness is what happens to a man when he desires a woman. A man’s cock becomes hard when he longs to push it inside a woman. Push it in here.” He flicks between my legs again.

My back arches. “Into my cleft?” I’m panting now, so overcome by physical sensations it’s difficult to speak.

His gaze intensifies, and his entire expression darkens, as if his features are shrouded by the hood he wore when we first met. But even though he’s no longer a stranger, Saxon remains a mystery. A commander. A dragon master. A dangerous predator, and I’m fully ensnared in his trap.

“That sounds…” I can barely speak. “That sounds…” I’m not sure what to say, even if I could form a full sentence. What he’s describing sounds scary and painful. It sounds dangerous, yet also exciting.

“Do you want—” My breath catches. “Do you want to press your rod inside my cleft?” If he does, it means he finds me desirable.

His hands fall off me, and he abruptly stands, bumping his head on the sharply sloped canvas of the tent.

Shifting my legs together, I clasp my hands on my lap, and something uncontrollable tightens inside me, throbbing and pulsing between my squeezed legs. It’s as if my heart is now beating down there, and the feeling is both strange and wonderful. The dampness there builds.

“Not tonight,” he says with obvious regret in his voice. “You must carefully consider this, before we go any further. You can only offer your maidenhood once, and that gift should rightfully go to your wedded husband.”

“Oh!” I swallow, hard, making a face.

If I’m discovered and returned to King Vyktor, I’ll face something far worse than his beatings. If I marry that horrid man, he’ll try to push his rod inside of me.

“I would prefer to give that gift to you, instead of my intended.”

Saxon grins. “That, ma chérie, is not a difficult threshold above which to rise.”

I grin. We both chuckle, and I’m glad that we can make jests, without spelling out every meaning. “What did you call me?” His words sounded so beautiful on his tongue.

“They are words oft used in Catha and Sidonia. It means…” he tips his head to the side “…it means my dearest one.”

“Oh!” My heart pounds even harder. I like that he’s called me that, but it’s yet another name he cannot use in front of anyone else.

“If you want to take me…” My teeth graze my lower lip. “I have considered it, and I am willing.”

“No, ma chérie.” Bending over me, he gathers my hair in his hands. “Not tonight. You must consider this for at least a day, perhaps more. And then, after time passes, if you are still …willing.” He grins. “You may visit my tent again.”

“Thank you.” It seems like the right thing to say, and he smiles as he looks down into my eyes.

I’m hoping he’ll kiss me again, but he drops to sit on the cot and pulls a long blade from a sheath in his boot.

Turning me away from him, he gathers my hair from behind.

“Now,” he says softly. “Instead of defiling a princess, I will commit another high crime. The crime of defiling her beautiful hair.”