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“You,” I blurted. Immediately, shame spilled through my belly. “I’m sorry … I—”
“No more sorrys, Fireheart.” His voice was rough. And then his mouth was on mine, and it was rough, too, yet soft. Gentle and firm. Full of utter contradiction—just like my dragon. And full of fire. His tongue slipped into my mouth, and I made a throaty noise, halfway between a moan and a groan. Nyxaris’s hands slipped from my wrists, moving to my waist, then sliding down my hips, gripping lower, pulling my body hard against him as his mouth moved over mine like he was starving.
He was starving, I belatedly realized. I felt the tips of his fangs against my lips. I must have flinched, for the next instant, he’d pulled back, breaking off the kiss. He stood there, breathing hard.
I made the mistake of looking down—to see what I’d already … felt. He was hard. Big. Too, too big. My cheeks were on fire. “I’m so sorry,” I babbled.
His finger touched my lips. “Stop apologizing. Whatever are you sorry for?”
I gaped. Then lowered my eyes slightly. His gaze followed mine.
He burst out laughing. “This? Shall I cover myself? Hide modestly?” His face sobered. “Fuck that, Fireheart. Dragons are naturally shameless creatures. I shall not hide my desire. No, no matter how hard you blush and tremble. I want you. I have wanted you for …” He stopped, breathing hard. “For what feels like a very long time now. And for the first time, I have the form, the means …” He looked around us, his face wry. “The fucking empty field.” He met my eyes, his amber ones burning into mine. “If you permitted, I would strip you bare at once and lay you down amid the grass, then worship your body and give you such pleasure as you’ve never known in all your mortal life.”
My heart might have stopped right then and there.
His face hardened. “But never, ever would I drink from you with reckless abandon or without your permission.” He shook his head, and his silver hair swung. “I swear that to you. Do you believe me?”
I nodded mutely.
“Good.” He began to turn. “Then, let us go.”
“Go?” The word was a mouse’s squeak.
He paused, looked back, then turned to fully face me again.
“Why, Fireheart,” he began, then gave the most utterly wicked grin.
“What?” My voice came out embarrassingly high.
He raised a brow, still grinning diabolically. “Am I to take your interruption as an indication you see something you like?”
I cleared my throat, heart hammering. “I—I don’t know what you could possibly mean.”
He appraised me. “No?” And then the wicked creature lowered one hand to his cock. He wrapped the hand around it, and he … stroked.
I trembled. Watching as a bead of moisture formed on the very tip. I licked my lips.
“You should not have done that,” Nyxaris murmured with amusement.
“What?”
“Why, licked your lips, of course. You have the most lovely tongue. May I imagine it?”
“Imagine it doing what?” I longed for a cold glass of water to pour all over myself and wake up from this impossible, dangerous dream.
Get a grip, Florence. Be a big girl. You just fought on a dragon. There’s a city on fire back there. People died tonight. And yet you can’t say the words?
I took a deep breath, then lowered myself to my knees. For the first time in our encounter that night, Nyxaris looked actually startled.
“Imagine what?” I challenged him, with more boldness than I felt. “Imagine this tongue …?”
He was standing so close. I could smell him, nearly taste him. The bead of moisture was so close to my lips. I opened my mouth, leaned forward, and wrapped my lips around the head of his cock, tongue sliding slowly over his sweetness.
He groaned, hands moving to tangle in the web of my hair. “What are you …?”
I couldn’t speak, even if I’d wished to. He was too large, too all-encompassing. Everything about him was overwhelming. The feel of him in my mouth. The taste of him, heady and tinged with salt. His body smelled of scales and smoke. I moved my mouth forward, taking more of him in, and gently urging him to … thrust.
He delved his cock deeper into my mouth, and I groaned. He froze.
