Page 65 of Dragon Awakened

I howl as his huge length fills me, and he throws his head back, his fingertips leaving bruises in my skin, but I welcome the pain. He clutches me to him, and I thrust myself the rest of the way down. The fullness within me is exquisite, the pressure on my clit so perfect.

"Yes, yes," he mutters, "take me, take it all--take what you need--"

So that's exactly what I do.

All the years of hiding. The pretending and the pain of being denied. His rejection. His declaration that I was nothing to his family and his kingdom.

I exorcise it from my system, and every bit of the pain is driven out of me as I fuck myself on his perfect cock.

Over and over again, I lift myself up and slam myself down. My breasts bounce with the force and speed of my movements, and he's groaning my name, coasting his hands over every inch of me like I'm something precious, something divine--and goddammit all, I am. I'm a jewel, a goddess, maybe a queen.

I'm a Shadow Dragon, and the darkness within me swells.

Orgasm creeps over me with irresistible force. I don't slow down, though, riding into a headwind and daring it to break me. I crest on a scream, coming around his cock so hard it blinds me, but I keep riding him. Harder and harder, faster and faster, until my thighs burn.

"Ember--" he growls.

And then he's flipping us, but I refuse to cede an inch. I keep us rolling until I'm on top once more, fucking him at a punishing pace. But who am I punishing? Him or me? Him for hurting me--or me for letting him?

We're perilously close to the edge of the bed, but I don't care. Even when my hand slips beside his head--when my arm is about to give out and my knees ache.

"Ember," he says again, more urgent this time, and I don't want to hear it. "Ember--"

He sits up beneath me, and I'm powerless to fight him, and I hate that. I'm the one in control now. I have the magic and the fucked-up prophecy. He's just one of my four mates.

So why does it still feel like he can destroy me?

More tears leak from my eyes, and he doesn't try to stop them from falling. He kisses them away, one by one, pausing only to kiss my mouth. I've lost most of my leverage, but I'm still rocking myself over him, shallow strokes and grinding pressure on my clit, but the frenzied pace has been broken.

"Ember, love, it's okay--"

"It's not," I babble. My voice catches.

"I'm so sorry. I'll never hurt you again. I've got you," he promises.

And these sad parts of my heart are so desperate to believe him.

"I loved you," I whimper.

"I know." Apologies form on his lips again, and I can't.

Shaking my head, I thread my hands through his hair, tilting my hips, trying to drown out the feelings bleeding through my heart with the oblivion of sex, but it's no use. I kiss his hot mouth, and he lets me for a minute, but too soon, he's pulling away.

"I know," he repeats.

My eyes sting. Against his lips, I breathe, "I still love you. I tried so hard not to, but--"

"But we were always meant to be."

"Fuck the gods." They don't know me or my heart.

But my mates do. Storm--he does, damn it all.

"Fuck them," he agrees, and then he's kissing me again, pouring his conviction and his devotion and his fucking love into our bond, and how can I keep fighting it?

Finally giving me room to move again, he wraps me up in his arms. I lift myself off of him and fuck myself back down on his cock, but it's slower now. My futile drive to erase all thought and feeling from my soul with hard, rough sex disappears.

"That's it," he breathes. "That's it, my beautiful girl. My love. My mate."

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