And I wanted it. Instinctively, I knew that Rhodes had only ever yielded to Zyair. Or maybe his elder brothers. But if he were to be my mate, he needed to yield tome.
His hands tightened on my hips. But I suspended myself above him. Rubbed just a little, and felt him inhale hard.
“You will do as I say,” I commanded.
His lips peeled back from his teeth. “You may be my mate. But no one owns me.”
“Ah, you are wrong. You do belong to me.” I placed the tip of his wing bone in my mouth and twirled my tongue around it.
The shudder that ran through him almost unseated me. A long groan, rising to almost a cry, emitted from his clenched jaws. I lowered myself, but only just the tiniest bit. Slipped just the massive tip of him into my warm embrace… and out again.
He inhaled hard—and then, to my shock, helaughed. A big, booming sound filled with both denial, and acceptance.
“All right, my little Draka,” he rumbled. “You win. This time.”
His fingers moved to cup my buttocks, rather than trying to push me down. Resting his face up against mine, he exhaled. “If you do not take what is yours in the next few seconds, I cannot be held responsible for the consequences.”
“You will wait.” I ordered.
“No.” It was half denial, half plea, and all desperation.
“Yes,” I insisted, tracing his wing bone with my fingers.
His lips peeled back from his teeth as his cock jumped like a wild thing beneath me, and his balls were glowing brighter than the lamps around us.
It was me who laughed this time.
He groaned, the sound reverberating through the very air around us. Then he rubbed his face along mine and growled in Drakonian, “Ah, my little Princess Jazmin. I am yours. Take what I have, before you push me past what I can endure.”
“Say please.”
“You cannot be serious about this request?”
“Say it,” I insisted, lowering myself again until I enclosed his tip, and I rotated my hips.
He uttered something in Drakonian that sounded decidedly rude.
I pulled him out. “English,” I ordered.
“Shaftzian hell,” he snarled. “All right.Please.”
“Nicely. Or I’m leaving.”
His hands on my buttocks tightened, the talons sprouting from his fingertips pricking me. His breath left him in an explosion of Drakonian words. “My precious little Jazmine, if you do not take what is yours this very minute, we are about to have a very damp introduction to bonding.” Then he switched to English. “Pleasefuck me.”
His words sent a flood of heat rushing through me. I lowered myself, stretching around the girth of him. His groan escalated to broken panting, his hands trembling with the effort of not encouraging me onward, and his hips making little desperate thrusting motions.
I squirmed as he hit every nerve ending. When he sank the last iota home, we both froze for an instant before I felt him kick deep inside me.
He cursed again in Drakonian, and said, “I cannot wait?—”
“You can. And youwill.”
The sound rising from his depths was not a growl or a groan, but a subterranean rumble. I began to move, rising and falling in rhythm until he arched up beneath me, helpless to hold back, his wings spreading. His breathing came in great gasps and shudders that matched mine with every exquisite sensation. Faster and faster we went, every fiber tightening as he swelled?—
And then, I stopped.
“No, keep going,” He begged.
