Re #3
He stood when he was finished watching.
Then he took my face in both hands and kissed me. He tasted himself in my mouth and didn’t flinch. A dark possessive current rolled under my skin, hotter now, and made my knees forget their job.
He carried me to the bed and put me down with careful hands and none of the softness that usually came with them.
His weight came over me, heavy and welcome. His thigh pressed between mine. His forearms braced beside my head. The room narrowed to his body, his mouth, the heat of him over me. An answer I had been pretending not to need.
His hand moved between my thighs. He found me wet. His breath changed against my mouth. “Already,” he said.
“You can feel that.”
“Mm.”
“Then stop commenting.”
His laugh came soft and pleased. He had no intention of obeying that instruction. Then his fingers slid into me. Two first. Then three.
My breath broke apart.
Dominic watched my face while he did it. Dominic Graves didn’t touch anything without learning it. The bond gave him what my body felt, and he still wanted the evidence from my mouth, my hips, the way my hands caught at his shoulders when he found the angle that made thought leave the room.
His forehead lowered to mine. His thumb pressed down on my clit and tapped there. “There,” he said against my throat.
“There,” I managed as I came on his hand. Hard.
Then he lined himself up and pushed into me. He was thick. Dragon-broad. The bond rang wide at the joining and carried the shock of it through both of us.
His shoulder under my teeth. My throat under his.
Mine.
His.
Ours.
Then he was deep and no longer slow.
The bond ran through us, struck-metal bright. His pulse and mine moved through both claims at once, until we were only friction, heat, and breath.
I came on him before I could brace for it.
The wave broke wide, pulling me tight around him, and for one useless second all I could do was hold on.
Dominic drove me through it. He didn’t stop.
Didn’t slow. Every tremor moved through the bond and came back to him, feeding whatever was left of his control.
He brought his face down to mine. “Good girl.” His breath broke on the words as he came.
He kissed me through it, hard and open-mouthed, and on the next stroke, the knot began. The fullness dragged the wave back up before it had finished leaving me. My hands locked on his shoulders.
My mouth opened against his, but nothing useful came out. Only sound. Only need. Only the bond taking every part of me that had tried to stay separate and proving, with brutal efficiency, that it no longer had to.
The bond surged. I came again around the orgasm I had barely survived. Pleasure built instead of breaking clean.
Dominic followed a beat later. His face dropped to my throat, and his hand slid to the back of my neck, holding me there while his teeth set against the mark.
The knot engaged. He couldn’t move much after that. Small shifts. Careful rolls. Just enough to press deeper, to drag the pleasure back through me before I had recovered from the last wave.
I felt the curve of his mouth against my skin. The bastard was smiling. A satisfied sound left him, barely voiced, and then he rolled his hips again, slow and deliberate, like he had found the exact edge of what my body could take and intended to make a study of it.
My hand fisted in his hair. I came again. Smaller this time. Wetter. Meaner.
It broke out of me with less grace and more teeth, my body tightening around him while the bond threw the pleasure back and forth between us until I couldn’t tell which part of it belonged to me anymore.
Dominic kissed me through it, and the sound he made into my mouth had lost interest in language altogether. Then his mouth left mine and returned to the bite.
I caught his hair in my fist before he could lower his mouth all the way. “Don’t.” The warning came out thin. Unconvincing.
Dominic went still against my skin, giving me one breath to mean it. I felt the curve of his mouth before I felt his tongue, one slow lick over the mark that sent the bond ringing through me, bright and violent and immediate.
I came on the knot with my nails in his back and my forehead pressed to his shoulder, my breath breaking into nothing.
When I could speak again, barely, I turned my mouth against his jaw. “That was a violation of trust.”
His laugh was almost silent, more breath than sound. Then his hand slid up my spine, anchoring me while the last of it moved through both of us.
“Little spy,” he murmured.
I opened one eye. He was watching me with heat and devotion burning through the vertical black of his pupils. His thumb brushed the back of my neck, where he held me close.
“It only works because you let it.”
I had several excellent arguments in theory. In practice, I was naked, locked around him, and still shaking from an orgasm he had pulled through a bite mark like a man using a door I had opened for him.
I did the dignified thing. I closed my eye again and said nothing.
His mouth curved against the mark, soft and pleased.