Page 52 of Blood Oath
“Lay down, and no matter what, keep your hands behind your head.”
I’m so eager to do anything she wants that I rip my pants as I yank them off before getting comfortable on the bed, lacing my fingers behind my neck. Pride and desire wash over me when her eyes widen slightly, latching onto the tremendous bulge in my underwear.
“I—” She clears her throat. “I didn’t tell you to get naked.”
“You’ll never have to tell me to get naked around you, Boo. I’ll look for any excuse because I love how you can’t stop looking at me,” I tease.
I’m trying to lighten the mood because I can see her at war with herself in her head. She takes a step back, then forward, clenching and unclenching her hands—but the scent of her arousal is slowly filling the space, and she isn’t looking away from my body, so whatever she’s fighting in her head, I know it’s not on my account. It still makes my dragon twitchy, impatient for her touch, yet far more anxious to know what’s made her so wary of this.
If anyone is going to push her limits before she’s ready, it will be you, Silas’s voice pushes through the cloud of hunger in my head.
I sit up immediately, ignoring the growl of my inner dragon. “Maven…if you’ve changed your mind and this is too much for you, I’m not going to pressure you?—“
“As if you could. This is about me, not you. Lay back down.”
I obey, and finally, she sits on the bed beside me, tipping her head as she studies all of me. She reaches out and gingerly trails her fingers over my arm. I shut my eyes and bask in every second as her soft touch traces over my muscles, up my neck, and down to my abs. Heat gathers under my skin wherever her exploration lingers.
When she hums softly and brushes her palm against the cock straining in my underwear, desire bolts down my spine, and my hips lurch, eyes flying open as I gasp.
“Oh shit.”
Maven’s eyes darken as she repeatedly traces the outline of my erection through the thin fabric. By the time she stops, I’m panting, fingers flexed behind my neck.
I’ve never been teased like this. I’ve always taken charge in bed—and hell, I still want to pin Maven down, bury myself to the hilt in her, and leave love bites all over so people know she’s fucking mine, but this?
I want this even more.
When she suddenly frees my leaking cock from its confines, and her hand skims the length of it, fire pumps through my veins. It only worsens when I see her mouth part slightly at the size of me. Like I said, I’m a big motherfucker—everywhere.
“That’s…” She trails off.
“It’ll fit, baby,” I promise hoarsely. “I’ll make it fit. You’ll love every godsdamned inch of me.”
That snaps her out of her small daze, and she gives me a droll look. “I am not fucking you, Baelfire. Now or ever.”
My inner dragon writhes at those words. “Maven?—“
“But I like seeing you so hard for me,” she adds, her voice turning liquid. “Good boy.”
Good boy.
Those words sink in and holy. Fucking. Gods.
"More,” I growl, muscles clenching and rippling wherever her featherlight touch brushes next. It's sweet, tantalizing torture. "Say more like that.”
Her pretty little mouth quirks up in a deliciously evil smile, and she leans over, close enough that damp tendrils of her hair frame my face, and I stop breathing altogether, world screeching to a stop as I pray to all six gods that she's going to kiss me.
But instead, she whispers, “You want my praise?"
Her fingers skim the head of my cock. I grit my teeth as my hips jerk up of their own accord again, desperation and need taking the reigns until all I can think about is getting more from her. More of anything, but especially her calling me a good boy.
“Gods, I need it. Please,” I pant.
"Good answer. But my praise is earned."
Everything about her voice is smooth and deceptively gentle, yet there's that same powerful undertone in it that I'm realizing is always there. My mate is exceptional at hiding her emotions, but her mask is nowhere to be found as she smirks down at me, dark eyes glittering.
She's the one calling the shots, and it's addictive.
