Certainly, she didn’t appear to know what inviting a dragon into her life would mean. It was a good thing he had every intention of showing her.
Her voice was high pitched when she asked, “Shouldn’t I go make breakfast? You’ve been asleep for ages. You must be hungry, right?”
Artem ran the tip of his nose along her temple and down her cheek. He felt her tremble against him, but she didn’t move away, or tell him to stop when he brushed his lips over her cheek. When she didn’t tense up, he dared to dart the tip of his tongue out — just once, to satisfy his curiosity.
Her flavor burst over his sensitive tongue; salt, oranges, vanilla, and the sweet spice of desire.
Artem really did groan then. Pressing his aching erection against the curve of her backside, he skimmed his claws over the waistband of her sleep shorts. “My sweet treat,” he rumbled, “has anyone ever spoiled you before?”
Her breaths left her in tiny pants. “I… I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.” She cleared her throat. “This isn’t a good idea. We don’t know each other. And you’re a guest.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
He waited for several heartbeats, reading her body language to be sure he wasn’t making her uncomfortable, before he slowly pressed his palm against her stomach, pushing her back into him. Her thighs clenched around his tail.
“Have I ever been spoiled?” She shook her head as much as their positions allowed. “I don’t think so.”
Artem wasn’t sure if he should be happy or indignant on her behalf, so he settled on both. “No one’s ever taken care of you?” He slid his hand up slowly, giving her time to tell him to stop, before he lovingly cradled one silky soft breast. Her skin was delicate and warm; the weight of her breast in his palm was perfect.
He held her closer. How close had he come to missing this? One wrong turn, a different choice, a missed opportunity, and he would never have known Paloma. He would never know the feeling of her in his arms, nor the sweetness of her melting under his touch. It was fate, or perhaps pure luck, that brought them together. Artem intended to make the most of the privilege.
“No one’s ever lavished you with gifts or attention? Worshipped you?”
“N-no. Why would they?” He felt her hips flex when he skimmed the tip of one claw over the tight bud of her nipple.
“Why would they?” Artem gently rolled it between the pads of his forefinger and thumb even as he gave the shell of her ear a sharp nip. She gasped, body jerking, when he continued, “Wrong answer, treat.”
Using the arm curled underneath her to cup her jaw, he urged her to raise her head, baring her neck to him as he gave her soft, full breasts their due. “Pretty Paloma,” he breathed against the skin behind her ear. “So soft for me. So fragile and in need of coddling. Will you let me spoil you, treat?” Artem pressed the pad of his thumb against the plush skin of her bottom lip.
She parted her lips with a shaky exhale, allowing him to run the tip of his claw over the line of her lower teeth. Tap, tap, tap. He scraped his own much sharper teeth along the curve of her ear. “You have no idea what a dragon’s capable of, do you?”
He didn’t mean strength, nor the ability to harm. He meant the reputation dragons wore proudly: that they were exceptional lovers and fiercely possessive of their Chosen mates.
He wondered if she would have risked luring him to her roost if she’d known what she was signing herself up for. Not everyone wanted a committed partner, after all.
Not that it mattered. She had one now. There was no going back. Artem would not leave her. If she didn’t feel the same way, he would deploy every weapon in his arsenal to win her, as was the dragon way. They didn’t give up on their Chosen. They fought until the bitter end, even if that meant death — because a dragon’s mate was their heart, and without a beating heart, what was the point of continuing on?
He felt her suck in a sharp breath. Her lips moved against his thumb when she answered, “I read that dragons…” She made to wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, but ended up brushing the pad of his thumb instead. He felt her thighs clench again, harder this time. “Ah. I read that dragons need a roost. That when they pick a place, they won’t ever give it up.”
Artem smiled against the warm skin of her throat. “That’s true. Anything else?”
There was a pause before she answered, “And that if a rogue dragon loses their roost, they will get sick again.” She began to squirm, pressing back against his aching cock in ways that made him hiss. Immediately, Paloma stilled. In a tight voice, she said, “If that’s why you’re doing this, you don’t have to. I wasn’t going to— I won’t condemn you to death by forcing you out.”
Artem froze. “You think that’s why I want to touch you?”
There was nothing but genuine confusion in her voice when she replied, “Yes. Why else would you want to?”
He had to close his eyes for several long seconds. Gods be good, this woman is going to turn me inside out.
Doing everything in his power to keep his voice low and soothing, he said, “I am going to make you feel so fucking good, you’ll never ask that question again. I’m going to wipe it from your brain, Paloma. I don’t care how many orgasms it takes.”
“Artem, what—”
Ignoring the way his muscles protested any movement, great or small, he rolled them both over and stretched his wings up around their heads, creating a dim, intimate space just for them. A dragon’s embrace.
He dipped his head to run the tip of his nose over her cheek. “So we’re clear, I am not doing this because I want your roost.” He brushed his lips over hers, relishing the hot puffs of her exhalations and the velvet glide of skin on skin. “I’m doing this because you’re my mate. You’re my Chosen and I’m yours, remember? You Chose me first.”
Even under the shadows of his wings, Artem had no trouble making out her wide-eyed expression. “You know that’s not what I meant when I lured you here! I was just trying to save your life.”