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“You mean after I’ve figured out if it belongs to one of your own?”
“Yes.”
Staring at the apparatus in front of me, I sigh. “Yes. I will be free to go home then.”
“You can’t leave,” he says, prompting me to turn to him with a frown. “Not until you’ve given me dragonspirit children. Then you’re free to go.”
The unscrupulous glower in his eyes ignites a fire inside me. A flame of hot, pulsing anger and frustration.
“Just yesterday, you said—” I begin, but he cuts me off with a hand in the air, forcing me to heed the command of his presence yet again.
“I said that it’s up for debate, right?” he chuckles. “I’ve changed my mind now.”
His statement catches me by surprise, the fierce look in his eyes daunting when I meet his gaze. The feral curl of his lips when he smirks sets my soul on fire. And I hate it. I’m appalled by it. I straighten up and take a stand against him, my fists curling at my sides.
“Oh, you have? So only you get to decide what goes, right?” I scoff, snarling as I roll my eyes. “The only problem is that I want to leave.”
“Not until you’ve given me what I want,” he repeats, eyes flitting to my chest. Heat crawls to the surface of my cheeks, the uncontrollable blush fueling my fire.
I can’t let him see me like this—vulnerable and weak in the knees.
Weak for the way his chest heaves rapidly, as if he’s breathing heavily. Weak for the look in his eyes as the orbs blacken with desire. Perhaps it’s the desire to kill me—he is a beast, after all. He might just have the urge to snap my neck like a twig for all my insolence.
The flicker of panic sends me into fight mode. Survival mode. My greatest defense? Adding fuel to the fire. “Then do it now!” I throw my hands up defeatedly. “The quicker I get pregnant, the quicker I can leave!”
I just blurted out the most ridiculous thing out of pure frustration. Without thinking. Without caring about the consequences of my words.
What happens next, happens in a blur. Aragon pushes the door shut behind him then proceeds toward me, his steps firm and calculated. One arm slinks around my waist, drawing me flush to his chest before he captures my lips in a feverish kiss.
It’s passionate and sloppy, the messy sounds of kissing filling the air while things start flying off the table. It’s Aragon throwing everything down, clearing a space to lift me off my feet and plunge me onto the surface. That’s when our lips break apart, only for our panting breaths to lug in mouthfuls of the air we’d lost.
“I hate you!” I scowl, grabbing fistfuls of his sweater to greedily pull him in for more kisses. The woodsy essence of his kisses leaves me hungry for me, the taste simpering on my tongue.
He practically growls ferally as his teeth graze my bottom lip, so intensely that he almost draws blood. “I hate you too,” he grunts as he hastily lifts his sweater over his head. Exposing deliciously taut muscles clad in honey-golden skin, I lick my lips in anticipation.
“Like what you see?” he asks smugly, a glint of humor flashing in his eyes.
“There’s no point in hiding it. At least I have the balls to admit that,” I bite back.
I gasp when Aragon grabs the sleeve of the dress and rips it to one side. My breast spills out, and he sucks in an elongated breath.
“You think I don’t have the balls to admit that you’re one sexy creature?” he scoffs, circling my nipple with his fingertip. His eyes flit to the torn sleeve, glinting with amusement. “Especially in this dress.” He dips his head, breathing cool air over my nipple and watching as it erects in front of his eyes. “You knew what you were doing when you wore it, vixen.” His gaze lifts, meeting my eyes with the dark gloss of lust sparkling in them. “I like what I see,” he groans, slowly parting his lips before latching onto my breast.
Sucking. Squeezing. Teasing my nipple with tiny flicks of his tongue. I throw my head back, one hand carding through his mop of dark hair.
But he grabs my wrist and flings my hand away, startling me to lift my head. As soon as our eyes meet again, his fingers bite into my thigh as he drags me off the table.
In one fluid motion, he spins me around and has me bent over the table. With pals braced on the cool metal, heat rises in my flesh and pools at my core when he tears the dress from my thighs. The rippling of fabric slices through the air, filling me with a stuttered gasp of intoxicating anticipation.
When his hot hands settle on the exposed mounds of my ass, I arch my back further into his touch. His drawled intake of breath through his teeth is the sound that spurs me on to lustrously wiggle my ass for his sake.
“Dammit, Yazmine…” he drawls. I glance over my shoulder to see his tongue skimming his delicious bottom lip. “... You fucking sexy vixen.”
“Hm…” I tease, licking my lips. “You think I’m sexy?”
“Uh-huh…” he concedes, leaning down and sinking his teeth into the flesh of one mound.
The baser act has me moaning as I throw my head back, the line between pleasure and pain blurred. While he kneads my ass with strong hands, he rolls his hips into me. Allowing me to feel the length of his erection against my ass cheeks. I shudder as more arousal pools between my thighs, mewling as if I’m pleading for his cock.
