Page 84 of Dragon Cursed
She couldn’t tell him the truth.
She kissed him instead.She kissed him with everything she had.She pulled him down, and lifted her hips, and he —
He pushed inside her.
Slowly.
Reverently.
A thick, hard inevitability that stretched her, filled her,completedher in a way she had only ever felt with him.She was so wet he slid in on the slick of her own body.She was so ready her own pulse throbbed against him before he was halfway in.
He buried himself in her to the hilt and stopped there, his cock pulsing inside her, his face buried in the crook of her neck.
Pure heaven.A homecoming.
Her body around him, holding him,keepinghim.The bond magic — the cold-dark river of his curse, the warm-bright tide of her foremother's gift — meeting somewhere deep inside her body andsettling.The same way it had settled the first time.The way it would settle for the last time, tomorrow, when the pendant broke and her body broke with it.
Then he began to move.
There was no slow build this time.There was only the raw, primalfuckingof a man who had been told, by some deep place under his conscious mind, that this was the last time.The brass bed — too small for their passion — creaked and protested with every powerful thrust.He was wild.Untamed.A force of nature.
She was the ground he was breaking apart.
She could feel the dragon in him.A thrumming power just beneath his skin.The heat of his magic.The fire he was fighting to hold back.It was rising in him now — she could feel it rising under his skin, in the heat building between their bodies, in the way the air in the small room had begun tocharge.
She wanted it.
She wantedallof it.
"Let go."Her nails dug into his shoulders."Alsander.Let go.Give it to me."
He made a sound she had never heard from him before.A pained, desperate growl.His thrusts went harder.Deeper.The relentless rhythm of a creature on the edge of its own control.
"Poppy—"
"Do it." She pulled his mouth down to hers."Bind me.Claim me."
His eyes flared green-fire bright above her.
The dragon was full at the surface now — the man behind it, the man inside it, both of them looking down at her as she lay open under him on the brass bed.He hesitated for one half-breath, the last shred of his three centuries of restraint, the lastbut you do not know what you are asking for.
She did.She did know.
She knew better than he did.
She arched her hips up to meet his next thrust and she whispered the words she wanted to shout.“Bind me, Alsander, bind me, I am yours, I have always been yours.”Claim me before the world takes you back—
He let go.
The fire came up out of him in a hot scorching wave.It wasn’t painful.It wasglorious.It was the dragonfire that bound a Draquonir's mate to him for as long as either of them drew breath, and it poured out of his body into hers, and her body —her body— opened to it, drank it down, took it deeper than fire was meant to go.
It settled in her bones.
It settled in herblood.
It settled in places she didn’t know magic could settle, in spaces inside her body that she would have said weren’t there.The fire wrapped itself around her ribs and her hips and the long curve of her spine.It threaded through her hair.It sank into her belly and stopped there — settled there, deep and warm, in a way that shouldn’t have happened with mortal women at all.
The pendant between them blazed with dragonfire.
