Page 170 of Gemini Kings
Hismark.
This entire assault is a power play.
And my fiendish little brain is so fevered I simply can’t make up my mind whether that’s an intimacy I should permit or a presumption I should punish (even if, very secretly, I like it) with one of my vicious backhands.
The scrape of his fangs against my skin dredges up a few particles of (belated) caution.
“No biting,” I hiss.
He won’t let me touch our cocks. He seems to have laid exclusive claim to that particular terrain for both of us, a usurpation which is both maddening and unfair. Instead, my fists knot in his hair.
“I will not give you my mating bite,” he says thickly, “until you are certain. Until you beg me to bite you.”
His mouth finds mine again before I can tell him I never beg, period, and in particular I will never beg for that. Being bitten once by Lucius was more than enough, believe me. My wolf hasn’t tried to claim me in that way, not as my alpha, but all Lucius needs to do is kiss the healing punctures on my inner thigh to make me climax.
I’m still the top dog on our bed, damn it.
That goes for all six of us.
The backs of Max’s legs collide against the bed and he sits down hard, which gives me a momentary respite (assuming I wanted one) from his punishing kisses.
His hands glide down my naked thighs and he spreads his legs to pull me between them. This choreography places my cock nicely within sucking distance. My hand sneaks out in front to position myself for him.
Again he brushes my hand firmly aside before I can touch myself.
I never tolerate this sort of defiance. Yet for some reason, in this case, I’m permitting it. It’s actually making me hotter than running the show myself. I’m simply pulsing and throbbing and jerking with need. My cock is literally drooling for him. I angle my pelvis to get my point across, but his stern grip on my thighs holds me in place.
Frustrated and impatient and thwarted, I scowl down at him.
Whatever he sees in my face turns him positively smoky with purpose. His lids drop over his slitted gaze and his voice goes gravelly.
“Still you will not bend for me?” he rasps.
When I shake my head (coherent speech being rather beyond me at the moment, but my position on this topic certainly hasn’t changed), his pupils dilate. “Then,dushenka, will you kneel for me?”
It’s thesweetheartthat does it for me. Besides, I can give a man head and surrender nothing of my power.
“Hmmmm.” I let my own gaze wander over his deliciously naked chest and drum-tight abs to that forked cock jutting between his thighs. “Well, since you ask so nicely…”
I fold to my knees between his legs and spread him wider, my hands gliding up the hot skin of his inner thighs, my mouth already watering. I’ve watched Ronin and Zara play with his cock, watched them both fuck him, but everyone’s been far too wary of braving his barbs to administer a proper full-throated blow job.
This poor dragon’s beendeprived.
Well, having made up my mind to oblige, I’m just the man for the mission.
I breathe in the delectable aroma of dragon and Ronin and Zara’s mating scent. Between my hands and my mouth, I intend to make this man beg for me. My eyes close and my lips part—
“Hands behind your back,” he growls.
My eyes snap open.
I freeze in place.
A cold trickle of resistance and rage cools some of my pulsing heat.
His voice turns coaxing. “Just to try. Just this once. You do it to please me. To please yourself. If you do not like, then we will stop. No one else needs to know.”
Clearly he’s still learning the way things work in a relationship with telepaths. We have no secrets from each other… for the most part.
