Page 16 of Ditching the Dragon (Fated Dates)

It’s fun to have him inside me, but I don’t want a metered response. I don’t want him locked down.

I want himferal. Desperate.

It’s what I feel for him.

My nails sink into the sheets and grip them hard enough to tear.

“Not good enough,” I say to goad him.

His eyes narrow, but the challenge has been set so I can’t take it back now. “I’m trying to go easy on you, at least for the first round.”

“Fuck easy. I’m not made of glass.”

Wick grins again, and his teeth seem sharper, his face longer. With almost no effort at all, he tosses me by the arms farther up the bed.

He falls on me, his strong body trapping me against the mattress.

Before he can gain the advantage, though, I hook a leg around his hip and twist us so that I’m straddling him.

My knees sink into the cushy bed, and I get ready to ride him for all I’m worth.

It’s empowering to sit atop this strong, powerful man who has the world at his fingertips but is staring up at me like I’m the center of his life.

I’ll be giving him an amazing show.

Wick positions himself, and I sink home. We both breathe a sigh of relief and relish the moment.

I ride him hard, my thighs clenching and my ass sore from the repetitive activity. He’s so big, so deep from this angle, and it fans the flames in my belly impossibly hotter.

He rests his hand on my thigh and rubs his thumb over my clit, and I nearly lose it right then.

He smirks and plays with me, as if he can convince me to come first.

No chance in hell.

I will be rocking Wickham Barrett’s world, because I know that I can and it’s an achievement I want.

His chest heaves as he watches me bounce on his lap. Even with him below me, he peers up at me in a confusing mix ofadoration and pride. He probably let me top him, but right now I don’t give a fuck.

At some point, his legs shake, and his grip on my body tightens to the point that it feels like nails gently dig into my skin.

He never stops, though. Never asks for a break.

No, instead, he sits up. He cradles me in his arms and uses his own thighs as a counterpoint to mine so that we’re embraced and he still impales me.

Our breathing matches, and the rhythm follows naturally until I can sense his body is at its end.

“Come for me, gorgeous,” he murmurs in my ear, and it’s the last piece in the puzzle.

I tense around him, the climax a slow-boiling bubble that simmers and overflows. Heat blows through my body in a spray of electric static that makes my mind hazy and my body lax.

He kisses me hard and maneuvers us so we’re laying sideways with him spooning me.

And there are claw marks on the bed.

After a long moment, with Wick behind me leaving pecks on my bare shoulder while I trace the muscles on his forearm, I find the confidence to ask again.

“What are you?”

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