Page 48 of Fated to the Dragon Alien

He kissed her as he thrust into her, hips grinding deeper, harder, each stroke deliberate, like he was carving his name into her walls. Not just fucking—this was something molten, something primal, a collision of need and heat that surged through his blood like wildfire.

Every part of her was addictive. The way she gasped and whimpered his name, her sex fluttering around him when he hit the spot just right, the hitch in her breath when his teeth scraped her collarbone—he memorized it all like sacred scripture. She was slick and perfect, and every drag of his cock through her folds made his brain short-circuit.

This wasn’t claiming. It wasn’t possession. This was worship. Reverence. Her body didn’t just take him in—it took him apart. Showed him craving he didn’t know existed. This wasn’t about force or control—this was about surrender. Desperate, mutual surrender.

Her fingers clawed through his hair, down his back, nails scraping the sensitive skin between his wings and making him snarl low against her neck. “More,” she breathed. “Harder, Stavian.”

It broke something loose—something primal and wild and barely chained. He growled low in his chest as Cerani’s body arched and pulsed around him, and every last thread of control he’d clung to shredded like spun glass.

“Stavian—” she gasped, voice breaking as she shattered beneath him—hips jerking, thighs trembling, cunt pulsing hard around his cock. She let out a strangled cry. Not loud, but raw. Wild. Like the sound had clawed its way out from her lungs.

Her orgasm tore through her body like fire, clutching his length in greedy waves, squeezing him like she’d never let go. She was slick and perfect and it wrecked him.

His wings flared wide, shaking with raw tension as he let go. The slow, careful rhythm he’d kept, shattered under the demandof her climax. He slammed into her harder, deeper, each thrust a surge of molten need. No restraint now—none. His hips snapped forward with staggering intensity. His hand gripped her thigh. His muscles coiled with the force of his release building, then crashing.

“Fek, Cerani—” he snarled against her skin, burying his face in her neck as he lost control. Blood roared in his ears. His vision blurred. All he could feel was the tight, wet clutch of her wrapped around his cock, milking him in hard, greedy pulses as she came apart beneath him.

He came with a full-body shudder, hips bucking as ropes of heat spilled deep inside her, each throb tearing another fractured groan from his throat. The pleasure ripped through him like a firestorm, white-hot and unrelenting. He groaned her name like it was a battle cry, a prayer, a defeat, as he emptied everything he had into her.

Cerani’s arms stayed locked around his shoulders. Her legs were cinched around his hips. Every breath she took shuddered through his body, echoing the aftershocks of what they’d just shared. Her skin glowed beneath the faint light pouring through the glass ceiling—freckles scattered like constellations over her forehead. She was a galaxy pressed against him, warm and wild, and so very alive.

They didn’t speak at first. He rested his forehead against hers. He could feel her heart pounding. Still racing. Like his.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” she whispered at last, voice frayed but grounded.

Neither was I, he didn’t say. Instead, he brushed her cheek with the back of two knuckles and kissed the tip of her nose.

Cerani tilted her head and traced his jaw with slow fingers. “I loved you before this.”

“I know,” Stavian said with barely a breath. He kissed her again, softer now. “But you knew that.”

She smiled, and it was everything. He pressed a hand to the center of her chest. Above her heart. “You’re mine,” he said quietly.

She reached up and placed her hand over his. “And you’re mine,” she answered, her voice rough with heat and something deeper.

Stavian exhaled like it was the first full breath he’d taken in cycles. Her fingers curled over his knuckles. The reality of what they’d become unfurled in his chest. Not prisoner and controller. Not survivor and savior. Just two people bound by something bigger than anything they understood.

He shifted to the side and pulled her into the curve of his body, his arm hooked around her waist. Their skin was slick with sweat where they touched, but neither moved to leave the bed. They lay tangled together beneath the faint wash of stars across the glass ceiling—both quiet in the aftermath, both buzzing under the silence.

Cerani was the first to speak. “That was…” She trailed off like no word would do.

“Yes,” he said against her temple. “It was.”

She chuckled, cheeks pressing against his chest as her breath warmed his skin. “Do all Zaruxian males bring their mates mindless pleasure, or is it just you?”

Mates. He liked that. He tipped her face back gently with one hand and looked into her eyes. They were glowing, not with adrenaline or need, but with the soft, dangerous gleam of something hard-won and deeper than either of them had possibly imagined. Love—terrible and full and real.

“I don’t know, but I plan to bring you mindless pleasure for the rest of our lives.” His voice still growled a thread of hunger that hadn’t fully cooled. “Every time you move beneath me…it’s burned into my bones.”

Cerani’s eyes searched his. There was no laughter now in her expression, just a quiet kind of awe. “Good,” she whispered. “Because what’s between us… That’s not going away.”

“No,” he said. “It isn’t.”

Her fingers traced the edge of his wing—so gently he almost didn’t feel it. When her fingers skimmed one of the sensitive seams along the joint, his chest stuttered. “You’re still holding back,” she murmured. “Why?”

He swallowed. “Because I don’t want to hurt you. Because this, what we just shared, it mattered.”

“It did.” Her voice went softer. “But I’m not fragile. Not with you.”

---