Page 57 of Veiled Flames (Destiny of Dragons #1)

Forty-One

Tynan

M y cock is pounding to the beat of my breaking heart.

Rosomon’s words were cruel, but it’s a start. I’ll win her over. My Rose will forgive me. Someday she’ll forgive me.

Remaining on my knees, I grip her ass and pull her tightly against me, pressing the side of my face against her belly, drowning in her heavenly scent. I could live in this position at her feet, right here, forever.

“Get on with it,” she says harshly, as if fucking is a chore she needs me to complete.

Releasing my hold on her bottom, I unclasp her breeches. I do plan to fuck her, but first I must taste her. And to better prepare her cunt for my cock, I’ll make her explode in a way I doubt Saxon ever could.

I push the older man from my thoughts. Rosomon might hate me, but she hates him too.

She hated him even before his dismissive words toward her today—some she has yet to hear.

Rosomon told me she’d never let Saxon touch her again.

He isn’t an obstacle. And frankly, I want Rosomon so much, I could accept her taking us both as lovers.

Right now, I’d do anything to claim Rosomon as mine.

Reaching inside her opened breeches, I slip my fingers through her well dampened folds.

Proof that she wants me far more than she’s willing to admit.

Under my touch, her body shudders, and her pelvis tilts in reaction.

Stroking her opening with one hand, I use my other to part the hood over her nub.

It’s already slick and swollen—and as bright as red roses.

Closing my lips in a firm circle around it, I lick.

Unable to hide her pleasure, Rosomon bucks and gasps. She tastes even more glorious than I expected, like honey and sunshine, but I resist the urge to suck too hard on her nub. I don’t want her to reach full satisfaction too quickly.

Slowly, I stroke her most sensitive places, my finger on one and my tongue on the other. I want this to unfold slowly, to let her pleasure build so her climax will be explosive. She deserves nothing less. Nor do I.

“No.” She pushes against my shoulders. “Not like this.”

I rock back on my heels. “Trust me.” Grinning, I look up at her. “You’re going to like this.”

Her cheeks are even more flushed now, her breaths even more shallow, but her violet eyes remain hard.

“I don’t want to like it.” She glares at me. “I want this act to be fueled by hatred . Mutual hatred. You have many reasons to hate me.

“In case you’ve forgotten, I insulted your family. I spurned your king, your grandfather, your kin, your entire kingdom. And I’m giving you a chance to punish me for what I did.” Her eyes narrow. “I hate you, Tynan, and I know that deep down you hate me too. Show it.”

I shake my head. This is not how I saw tonight unfolding.

“Fine.” She slips out of the space between me and her bed, and points toward her door. “Then leave.”

My heart drops to the depths of my belly. I won’t hurt her. Even if I threatened as much last night, I don’t actually want to punish her. Not even if she asks for it. But I also can’t leave this room without being inside her, not if there’s any chance that she’ll have me.

“Be careful what you ask for, Princess.” I try my best to sound menacing. “My tool can be vicious. It can pound you so hard you won’t be able to walk for a week.” Perhaps if I make her fear roughness, she’ll let me take her more gently.

“How many times do I have to tell you? I want it to hurt. I hate you! You hate me too. Punish me for what I did to your family.” Her words are harsh and self-assured, but I can detect a hint of doubt in her eyes.

And then I see the full truth. Rosomon doesn’t want me to punish her.

She wants to punish me.

She wants to dictate what happens between us tonight. She wants me to feel badly about what I do to her. She wants me to hurt her, so I’ll feel even more guilt and shame.

Fine. I’ll take my punishment.

I leap to my feet.

Her face reveals her shock at my rapid motion. Good.

“Turn around.”

Her head tips to the side.

“Do as I say.” Grabbing her roughly, I fold her forward over her bed and drag her breeches and braies to her ankles.

Her chest heaves against the mattress.

“Good girl.” I smack her ass, and she yelps.

I wince at the red handprint left behind. I did not mean to strike her so hard, and my palm stings from it too. And yet her body wiggles against the mattress even as the evidence of my harsh slap blooms.

Did she enjoy that?

I lick my palm and then smack her other ass cheek, loving the sharp sound as my damp flesh meets hers.

Moaning, she stretches her feet apart, as far as they’ll go within the confines of the breeches around her ankles.

“Lift your foot.” I command, and I release it from its confines. Before she can set it down, I use my own feet to shove hers apart, spreading them so wide she needs to balance on her toes, leaving most of her weight forward on the mattress.

Putting one hand between her shoulder blades, I hold her down firmly and slap her ass again—then again and again.

Fearing I’ve gone too far, I knead the heated, pinked flesh. My thumb strikes something hard.

I gasp. “What do we have here?” Her trainer’s base is hidden between her lush ass cheeks, and I press against it, pushing it more firmly inside her.

She moans, and so I twist its end, rotating the marble teardrop in her body. Her hips pulse against the mattress. Encouraged, I tug on the handle and pull the widest part of it out of her pucker, then I twist as I push it back in. Her breath comes out on a shaky exhale.

Fucking thrix. I’ve used trainers on wenches before but never considered putting one inside the hole for which it’s intended. As I play with the trainer, her pleasure rises, and the dampness between her folds increases. She may be the one feeling pleasure, but it’s driving me mad with desire.

I can’t wait. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be inside a woman so fiercely. My mind and my heart still want me to be tender with Rosomon, to worship her body as I give us both pleasure, but my cock has other ideas.

My cock is on board with Rosomon’s plan, and I try to summon the anger I felt when she bested me at the gauntlet, or when I discovered her identity. Anger that almost instantly shifted to admiration, once I realized the courage and cunning it took to escape her fate.

But, to give her what she wants—what she thinks she wants—I must find at least some anger to drive me now.

I can play act.

Grabbing all the cushions from the head of her bed, I shove them under her hips, lifting and exposing her sex more fully and destabilizing her posture. Bracing my knees against her dangling legs, I spread them even wider, as I release my hard cock.

Then, without warning, I drive into her tight cunny, forcing her to swallow more than half my length on the first pass.

She cries out.

I pause, panting. I hurt her. I went in too deep.

But she feels so good. I’m losing my mind. I slide my hands over the still pinked skin on her ass, then over her hips and lower back. Her skin is like velvet, so soft—and yet the contact shoots sparks from my hands to land straight in my stones.

Craving more skin, I push up her chemise and discover a corset. She’s used it to disguise her bosom. Clever girl. I long to remove it, to expose more of her skin, to release her paps so I can touch and suckle them, but the infernal garment is fastened in front.

I have no time for that.

“Why did you stop?” she asks angrily.

Her pelvis tips back as if trying to pull more of me inside her pulsing cunt. She’s so wet and ready, but her channel is tight and gripping me so firmly I doubt I can go any deeper.

My cock is longer than most men’s, but I know how to work the portion that fits inside wenches. If Rosomon wants to be fucked, then that’s what she’ll get.

Grasping the tops of her hips, I brace her body as I pull out slightly, and then I drive forward again. Fiercely.

She moans, and the sweet sound urges me on.

I repeat the same motion, over and over, the pleasure threatening to overtake my mind and make me forget all my caution.

As I thrust with a slow strong rhythm, the trainer rubs against me—a firmness inside her softness—and I can’t begin to imagine how it must feel for her.

How it feels to be so full, two holes penetrated at the same time. I want to ask her.

She looks over her shoulder. “Is that all you’ve got? I thought you hated me. I thought you wanted to punish me.” Her eyes narrow. “I didn’t think you so weak.”

Fury explodes. I am not weak! How dare she! No one gets away with calling me weak. Closing my eyes, I see nothing but red.

Tightly gripping her body, I drive into her hard and fast, no longer trying to control my depth or my force. Over and over the head of my cock crushes against the end of her channel, and her pelvis vibrates in response. I could be hurting her. I don’t care. She will pay for calling me weak.

I drive relentlessly, blinded by rage and shame, fueled by memories of punishments that came every time I showed any form of weakness—any hint of kindness—wanting to cause her the type of pain I was forced to endure.

But as I continue to brutally penetrate her, my rage is overcome by pleasure, and some of my sanity returns.

I’m in her deeper than I imagined possible, and yet she’s moaning, making love sounds to punctuate the slap of my body each time it slams against hers—over and over and over. Few wenches have been able to house my full length.

Already having the fuck of my life, I imagine how much better this would feel if I can make her climax while I’m inside her. How good it will feel for her too.

Slipping one hand between her and the pillows, I find her nub.

The moment I make contact, she cries out. Her body thrashes, but she’s fully under my control. Her tiny body’s no match for my superior strength, nor my height and weight. And without leverage, she has no way to fight the power of my stabbing cock.

Her legs remain dangling, spread and trapped open, even as she fights to pull them together, and my forearm is braced over her back, holding her down against the mattress as I drive into her, all while flicking her hard nub.

“Oh, ah. Yes.” Her voice is strained and high pitched, and her body squeezes around me. She’s so tight it’s hard to keep thrusting. And then wave after wave of ferocious contractions compresses my still driving cock as she reaches her climax.

The pleasure is profound. I can no longer see, can no longer hear anything beyond the wet sounds of her cunt and the smack of my stones as they strike her soft flesh, over and over and over.

After what feels like a lifetime of pleasure for us both, her internal contractions slow and become more erratic.

“Oh, Tynan,” she says on a heavy exhale.

At the sound of my name on her lips, my stones explode, and I shoot my seed into her cunny with more force than I ever imagined possible.