Dragon Bound (Elder Races #01)

She snatched her hand back and smacked him on the arm. “None of that is any of your business! And just because he liked me but he didn’t like you doesn’t mean he’s a dumbass Elf!”

 

 

He gave her a lazy, predatory smile as he moved his torso over hers. “You’re not afraid of me at all anymore, are you?”

 

She sobered. Call her crazy, but she thought he would rather cut off his hands than hurt her. “So what if I’m not?” she muttered.

 

His beautiful, cruel mouth pulled into a smile. “I think if you’re not, it’s a very good thing,” he said. He moved, and before she realized what he intended, he had her hands pinned over her head. “It gives me all kinds of license to do bad things to you. With you. On you. In you.”

 

She jumped and her heart hammered. He looked at her splayed and helpless underneath him and insinuated one heavy thigh between hers. He pushed up with his leg as he bit her neck in the exact same place where he had in their dream. He drank in her gasp and held her with ease as she tried to tug her hands free. Not that she tried all that hard.

 

Excitement took the express shuttle through her body. She stretched for the sheer enjoyment of feeling herself slide against his naked torso, and his brilliant gaze tracked every movement she made. She was feeling less human by the minute.

 

She licked her lips. “Dragos, I don’t think . . .”

 

“You don’t think what?” His burning gaze swallowed her up.

 

“I don’t think I’m as good as I thought I was,” she whispered. Her eyelids dropped down and she smiled.

 

“That’s my girl,” he whispered.

 

He pushed her legs wider apart, settled between them and began a sensual assault on her, nibbling and licking. He pulled her lower lip between his teeth and suckled at the plump flesh, then thrust his tongue deep into her mouth.

 

They both groaned. He dug deeper into her, thrusting harder and harder. She tilted her head to open more to him. He shifted her wrists to one hand so that he could push the other under her tunic, running calloused fingers up to the soft swell of her breast. He grasped the plush mound with greedy care, found her nipple and began rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. He tugged at the sensitive flesh and gave it a light pinch.

 

Pleasure jolted through her as he played with her breast. Her breathing became choppy. She tugged harder, but he refused to let go of her wrists, his body hardening. She raised her legs to cradle his long body, shifting underneath him until his heavy, long erection lay nestled against her pelvis.

 

He hissed, face darkened with lust, and he reared up to grab hold of her tunic.

 

“No!” she cried, stiffening.

 

He froze. God love him, that dragon didn’t even breathe.

 

“I don’t have anything else to wear,” she explained. She gave him a shaky smile when his eyes flashed to hers.

 

The stricken look left his face. He let go of her wrists and sat back on his heels as she sat and yanked the tunic over her head. She tossed it to the ground. He put his hands to her rib cage and ran them up to cup her breasts.

 

“Goddamn,” he said. His normal deep voice had gone hoarse. “Will you look at that.”

 

She looked down at them. The lines and curvature of her torso and breasts looked ultrafeminine against the brawn of his big hands and muscular arms. Her radiance and the dusky hue of his skin seemed to feed on each other. The paleness of her skin was creamier, the blush of her nipples pinker. The sinews of his hands and wrists shifted under skin that was a richer, deeper bronze.

 

She put her hands on his torso and watched as she ran them up his chest. Muscles rippled underneath her palms as he took in a shaking breath. She raked at his nipples with gentle fingernails. Part of her was ecstatic with shock. I am touching him. He is touching me.

 

He hissed and grabbed her fingers, coming over her as he bore her back down. He put his hands at her waist and, understanding what he wanted, she lifted her hips for him to pull the leggings off. He shifted to tear off his jeans and fling them aside. Then he slid back over her, heavy and hard and naked, and they were lying skin to skin.

 

If he had seemed hot before, he had since turned volcanic. She could feel his heart hammering against her breast. She lost herself in the enjoyment of rubbing herself against him, running her hands up the considerable musculature of his powerful back.

 

He slid down her body, running his open, shaking mouth along the length of her neck, down her collarbone, until he could feast on her breasts. He sucked and bit at the succulent flesh, gripping her nipples between his teeth and flicking at them with his tongue, one after the other until she arched and cried out, incoherent with sharp delight.