Page 42 of The Dragon’s Good Girl

"There you are," I murmur.

Her cheeks warm, but she holds my gaze.

I remove the rest just as slowly, taking my time and watching her reaction as each piece comes off. She doesn't fold her arms across herself or turn away when she's finally bare, and the difference from the woman who stood in front of me three weeks ago trying to make herself smaller hits me square in the chest.

I let myself look at her.

Margot shifts beneath the attention, but she doesn't hide. If anything, she straightens.

"Look at you," I say, and my voice comes out rough. "So fucking perfect."

A low growl slips out with the words before I can stop it. Margot's eyes flick to mine at the sound, but she doesn't look away.

Then I touch her.

Heat gathers naturally in my palms as I move them over her, lingering wherever I feel tension beneath my hands. Margot responds almost immediately, leaning into the warmth instead of waiting for me to coax her there. Each time she does, I slow down a little more, giving her time to enjoy being touched without asking anything of herself in return.

When my hand travels lower, her legs open to me without being asked.

She's not just wet; she's dripping for me. I drag one heated fingertip through the slickness coating her pussy, painting a stripe of heat from her entrance right up to her clit. Her whole body jerks off the mattress with a choked gasp.

"Soren—"

"I've got you." I do it again, circling that hard little pearl with a fingertip that runs warmer than skin should, watching her fall apart in inches. "So responsive. Look how well you take that." I press one finger into her, then two, curling them to hit her G-spot. Her pussy clenches around me instantly, trying to keep them inside of her. "That's it. Good girl, getting so wet for your Dom."

The praise undoes her. She flushes down her chest, her hips chasing my hand, and when I lower my mouth to her, the heat of it pulls a cry from her as her fingers tighten in my hair.

I eat her like I've got all night. I hold her open with my thumbs and latch onto her clit, sucking it into my mouth while my fingers work inside her. I worship her, tasting her sweet musk, listening to her beg in that half-embarrassed way she hasn't unlearned yet. I devour her until she comes on my tongue with my name screamed into the room, her thighs clamping around my head as her orgasm ripples through her.

I don't stop. I lick up her come like it's the finest wine, soothing her with my hot tongue until she's wrung out and gasping for air.

When I lift my head, her chest is heaving and her eyes have gone glassy. She's looking at me like she's never seen me before.

"Soren." Her voice comes unsteady. "I want—"

She stops.

Margot rarely asks me for anything. She usually leaves the decisions to me, which makes the certainty in her voice now impossible to miss.

"Tell me what you want, Angel," I say, my voice low against the inside of her thigh.

Her throat moves. "I want your cock. Inside me. I want you."

Not I want this. Not I want more. Me. My cock.

The request hits me like a physical blow. My eyes fall shut. For a moment I don't trust myself to move.

Then I crawl up her body and settle between her thighs. I take my cock in hand and drag the thick ridge of my cockhead through her pussy, coating myself in her, notching against her tight entrance without pushing in. She's small. I'm not. The stretch is going to be a lot, and I want her feeling it for days.

I stop for a second, notched against her, every muscle burning with the effort of waiting.

"Angel. Before we go further—I can't carry disease, and I can't get you pregnant. A dragon's seed only takes with his true mate, and I stopped believing my mate existed centuries ago." The words come out easily. "But it's your body and your call. Like this, or I can—"

"Like this." Her heels dig into the backs of my thighs. "Just you. Please."

"Good girl. Now breathe for me," I tell her.

She does. And I sink into her.