Paloma Chose him. It was a done thing; their lives were one now.
He kissed her chest and felt her heart rate pick up. “You want to know why I Chose you? Why I’ll never leave you? Why I don’t care that we come from different backgrounds, or that my life will have to change so I can be with you?”
“Why?” It was barely a word, more of a soft exhale, as if she feared speaking too loudly would chase his conviction away.
Raising his head, Artem held her gaze when he answered, “Because you Chose me first, when I was at my lowest and most afraid. You drew me down from the sky and saved my life. That kind of courage is…” He stopped, unable to find the right words. “It’s so rare, Paloma. A heart like yours, a mind like yours, deserves to be treasured.”
And dragons were, by instinct and by culture, a deeply acquisitive race. They didn’t pass up the chance to have something unique and beautiful and priceless.
When Paloma’s expression crumpled around a watery smile, her words apparently lost, Artem resumed his slow touches, his reverent kisses. He pressed his fingertips into the spaces between her ribs. He dragged the tip of his nose along the length of her collarbone. He coiled his tail around her calf and dragged it upward, sliding slowly over slopes of muscle and delicate skin.
The cradle of her thighs was slick and hot against his skin, but he didn’t rush. Artem took his time brushing his skin against hers, branding them as mates to anyone with a sensitive, predator’s nose. He paid attention to each finger, every inch of her skin, and the soft fall of her long black hair.
Finally, when she was twisting and rocking beneath him, seeking some relief from the driving need for friction, Artem sat up and pulled her with him. The light streaming through the windows was muted, but it felt harsh after the velvet shadows of his wings. When her pliant form was straddling his lap, Artem made quick work of enfolding them in darkness once more.
He’d fucked other women before, of course, but never like this. This was reserved for his mate. His winged embrace, his complete trust, given only to the woman who was the center of his universe.
Gripping her hip with one hand and his cock with the other, Artem pressed his forehead against hers and rasped, “Are you ready, treat?”
Paloma’s soft hands cupped his jaw. “Yes.”
The soft gasp she made when she sank onto him for the first time would be forever seared into his soul.
Artem curled his fingers around her waist, clutching her tight as her muscles contracted around him in a rippling wave. Heat and silk. That’s what Paloma was, how she felt wrapped around him. Like a brand and an embrace and a homecoming and a dive off of a cliff all wrapped up into one perfect, delicate creature.
He buried his nose in her hair and groaned when she shifted her hips, rolling upwards in a tentative rhythm. She was perfect. Her scent was perfect. Her cunt was perfect. Everything about her was perfect.
And she was his.
His hips snapped upward, meeting her with a hard, proprietary thrust. Her core was a vice of hot, slippery muscle, and he never wanted to leave it. Artem lowered his eyes to the space between their bodies to watch her rise and fall. Tilting her backward just enough, he adjusted their angle until she gasped — and provided him with the spectacular view of his cock sliding in and out of her.
Paloma’s voice was a breathy moan when she asked, “What’s your favorite color?”
“What?” Artem’s hips stuttered as he rose to meet her.
“Your favorite color,” she pressed, nails digging into his shoulders. A glance up to her face showed eyes that were glazed, half-lidded, and a lush mouth swollen from his kisses. Even so, there was a determined set to her jaw that made him grin.
He let out a huff of laughter. Of course his mate would maintain her focus even now, when he was as deep inside her as he could go. “Orange. It’s orange.”
She picked up speed, the muscles of her stomach clenching as she brought her hips up and then back down again. Every time he rose to meet her, Paloma’s breath hitched. “Mine’s purple.”
She started to lose her rhythm and her luminous skin glistened with sweat, so Artem used his hands on her waist to help her, tilting her back just a little more so he could pull out almost all the way before burying himself to the hilt once more. When her blunt little teeth nipped at his neck, he brought her down hard. Their bodies met with a burst of electric pleasure and a dull slap of skin that made them both groan.
“Tell me what your favorite dessert is,” she demanded, breath hitching, as he shifted to lay her back down into the nest.
Shoving a bunched up cushion under her hips, he let himself move like instinct demanded: hard, determined to brand as well as to love. He wanted her to feel him between her legs even when he wasn’t there. He wanted her to know that they belonged to one another now and every moment to come. He wanted her to come so hard, she saw fucking stars.
Curling one arm under her back to clutch her shoulder, he braced the other over her head and snapped his hips forward and backward, again and again. “Ice cream,” he bit out. “Vanilla.”
Paloma’s hands roamed his chest, his back, as she arched her spine and breathed those beautiful, erotic sounds in his ear. With each thrust, she made a new one, as if she was keeping time for him.
“I like— I like strawberry cake.” When her hands couldn’t find a place to settle, she stretched her arms up and out to skim her fingertips over the thin membrane of his wings.
Artem lost his rhythm as an electric current snapped down his spine, the nerves in his wings sizzling with her innocent touch. He choked out a moan and had to hold still for a moment to regain his composure as the pressure of his impending orgasm eased.
By the startled look on her face, he figured she didn’t know how sensitive his wings were, or that touching them during sex felt pretty damn close to her skating her fingers down his cock, but his Paloma was a quick study. With a sly smile, she ran her fingers up the finely wrought bone and then back down again, her touch dancing along his skin like a trickle of water.
He shuddered and dropped his head into the crook of her neck. Stars winked across the backs of his closed eyelids as she did it again, torturing him with sensory overload.