22. Chapter Twenty Two #3
With a groan, he set me down carefully, his hands lingering on my waist as if reluctant to let go.
His jacket slipped from his shoulders and hit the floor.
I fumbled at his tie, fingers clumsy with need, until he smirked and undid it himself with practiced ease.
I barely registered him crossing the room, but I watched as he yanked the velvet curtain closed over the grand ship’s window, plunging us into intimate shadow.
Then he was back—his hands finding my shoulders, spinning me gently in place.
I shivered at the first tug of the laces down my back, the chill of air kissing newly bare skin.
One by one, the ties came undone. The gown loosened…
and fell in a whisper to the floor, pooling around my feet like spilled wine.
I turned to face him, bare and trembling, my heart pounding like a war drum.
His gaze devoured me—slow, reverent—as if I were something sacred.
“Gods,” he breathed, his voice thick with hunger.
He shed his vest and shirt in one fluid motion, revealing a body that looked as if it had been carved from stone.
The crimson scales along his shoulders caught the low light, glinting like molten metal.
He reached for my hand, guiding me toward the bed with a tenderness that belied the heat in his eyes.
As I lay back against the silk sheets, he followed, pressing a kiss to my lips—deep, searing—before trailing downward.
His mouth skimmed across my collarbone, then down to my breasts, his tongue circling one nipple before drawing it into his mouth.
I gasped, arching into him as his teeth grazed just enough to make me whimper.
My fingers tangled in his hair, clutching him closer.
He continued his descent, slow and deliberate, lips brushing fire along my ribs and stomach. When he parted my thighs and knelt between them, my breath caught. I flushed, vulnerable under his gaze—but before doubt could creep in, he spoke.
“You’re perfect,” he whispered, hoarse with awe.
Then his tongue found me. He moved with purpose, drawing a long, slow stroke up my center.
I cried out, hips jerking as he worked me with maddening control—alternating between soft flicks and firm pressure, reading my body like a language only he could speak.
Every nerve buzzed under his mouth. My hands clenched the sheets, my breath coming in desperate gasps.
“Drake,” I moaned, his name escaping in a broken whisper.
He gripped my thighs, holding me open as he buried his mouth in me. His tongue slipped inside, coaxing a sound from my throat that barely sounded human. The pleasure was sharp, relentless, curling tighter and tighter inside me.
Just as I felt myself teetering on the edge—he stopped. I whimpered, the sudden absence almost painful, my body trembling with need.
When I opened my eyes, he was standing over me, his molten gaze fixed on mine. His hands moved to the buttons of his pants, and with agonizing slowness, he pushed them down.
His cock sprang free—bare, heavy, and unmistakably divine. A body carved by the Gods.
The girls were right.
“That look on your face…” He chuckled a low, throaty sound. I realized my mouth was hanging open, taking in his size. “Would flatter any man.”
I swallowed hard, unable to speak, my cheeks blazing. He stepped closer, his confidence mingling with a gentleness that made my heart flutter. He reached out to stroke a strand of hair from my face, his calloused fingertips grazing my cheek. Then, suddenly, he froze.
Before I could ask why, he turned and walked away. Naked. Entirely, gloriously nude—his back broad, his thighs corded with muscle, the faint gleam of scales catching the dim light.
“Um… Drake?” I stammered, sitting up as he crouched by my dresser and started pulling drawers open like he owned the place. “What are you doing?”
“Rules,” he muttered, rifling through folded linens. “Made myself a promise—first time had to be after a proper date… and with a candle lit.”
My jaw dropped. “You’re serious? Now ?!”
He glanced over his shoulder, silver eyes gleaming, mouth curved in a wolfish grin. “Rules are rules.”
Finally, with a triumphant grunt, he held up a stub of wax and set it on the nightstand. He flicked his fingers; a flame sparked, catching the wick. The candlelight spilled over his chest, shadows dancing across the red scales on his shoulders.
“There,” he murmured, voice low, thick, dangerous. He leaned over me again, his eyes burning like molten silver. “Now I can ruin you properly.” The bead of moisture glistening at his tip betrayed his restraint.
I nodded, breathless. He leaned down, chestnut hair falling like a curtain as he kissed me—softly at first, then deeper, hungrier. His mouth trailed to my throat, and I gasped as his body pressed against mine, heat radiating from every inch of him.
His hand slipped to my hip, steadying me. The moment his tip brushed against my slick entrance, a gasp escaped my lips—and he paused, meeting my eyes with searing intensity.
“You’re so wet, Evandra,” he said, voice reverent, like he was barely holding himself back.
He entered me slowly—inch by thick, aching inch. My breath caught as my body stretched to take him. I whimpered, clutching the sheets, the pressure exquisite. He sank deeper, and deeper, until he was fully sheathed inside me.
He groaned, low and guttural, and began to move—grinding into me with slow, deliberate thrusts that made me cry out. The stretch, the fullness, the pace—it was too much and not enough. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing every part of him.
His rhythm quickened, restraint slipping with every thrust. His lips found my breast, his teeth grazing my sensitive peak. One hand slid between us, his thumb circling my clit in perfect time with his hips. I moaned, the pleasure cresting fast. It built like a wave—higher, sharper—until it broke.
“Oh, Drake !” I screamed, back arching as my climax tore through me, my body pulsing around him.
“F-fuck,” he growled, voice hoarse and primal.
With one last thrust, he buried himself deep and stilled, twitching inside me as he spilled into my core.
His body trembled, every muscle taut. Then he collapsed beside me, pulling me close.
His chest rose and fell against mine, and a low laugh rumbled through him.
“What’s so funny?!” I asked, breathless.
He grinned, planting a kiss on my temple. “I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I met you,” he kissed me again, slower this time. “And Gods, it was worth every second of the wait.”
I smiled, heart still racing. “You don’t have to say all that. I mean, you don’t have to pretend.”
He blinked, confused. “Pretend?”
I hesitated, running a finger over the scales on his chest. “The sweet talk. Like… saying what I want to hear.”
“Eva,” he said, more serious now. “What do you know about Dragonbloods?”
I blinked. “Um, they’re known for their rage, their passion… their intensity.”
He nodded. “Exactly. We don’t do anything halfway. When we care about someone, we care with everything we have. It’s not something we fake. Even if we wanted to.”
“Oh.” was all I managed to say, my throat tight.
“I’m not saying anything has to get serious overnight,” he said, gently cupping my cheek, his thumb brushing my lower lip. “But I’m not just going to fuck you and leave. I like you, Eva. A lot.”
Oh Gods. How did I get this lucky?
“Well,” I teased, trying to lighten the moment, “you’re assigned to be my bodyguard. It’d be awkward if you ran off now.”
He chuckled and leaned forward to kiss me. His lips were soft, a gentle contrast to his powerful frame. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against mine for a moment, and the world shrank to just us.
We stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other. Eventually, I slipped into a nightgown, the silky fabric cool against my flushed skin. Drake pulled on his pants and started gathering his things.
We’d slept curled around each other every night on the way to Castle City — out of comfort, exhaustion, necessity. But since arriving, we hadn’t. As if sharing a bed in a real room made it too official. Too real.
“W- where are you going?” I asked before I could stop myself, hating how small my voice sounded.
He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was going to get changed and, uh, guard your room from the hall.” A beat of silence passed.
He didn’t turn around—but his voice shifted, low and uncertain. “Eva… there’s something I should probably tell you.”
My heart stuttered. “Okay?”
He stood there a moment too long. A shadow of conflict crossed his face—like he was weighing whether to drop a sword or swing it.
Finally, he shook his head and exhaled through his nose, offering a weak smile.
“Later. Doesn’t matter right now.” I frowned, about to press him—but the hesitation passed like fog, and his smile firmed into something steadier.
“Couldn’t you… more effectively guard me… from my own bed?” I asked nervously, my voice barely above a whisper.
He froze. His expression didn’t change—not right away—but I saw the shift. A flicker in his eyes, the twitch of a smile he tried very hard to suppress. He cleared his throat, and nodded. “I mean… yes. Logistically, that would be the soundest tactical move.”
He didn’t even bother pretending after that—just dropped everything and climbed under the covers like he’d been waiting for permission since the day we arrived.
His arms wrapped around my waist, warm and solid, his breath steady against my skin.
I rested my head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat as he kissed the crown of my head.
He held me tighter than I expected. Not possessive. Not even protective. Just like he was afraid I’d disappear. As we drifted off together, I felt invincible in his arms.