Chapter 28
CLARA
The soft glow of the fireplace casts flickering shadows across the room, the warmth of the flames matching the heat pooling low in my belly.
Dralgor’s hands slide up my arms, leaving trails of fire in their wake, as he pulls me closer.
His breath is warm against my neck, his lips brushing against my skin in a way that makes my knees weak.
“I’ve waited too long for this,” he murmurs, his voice rough, sending a shiver down my spine.
I tilt my head back, catching his mouth with mine, and the kiss deepens instantly. His tongue tangles with mine, exploring, claiming, and I can’t help the moan that escapes me. His hands roam down my back, slipping beneath the hem of my dress, and I arch into him, craving more.
He breaks the kiss, his eyes dark with desire as he pulls the dress over my head, letting it fall to the floor.
His fingers trace the lace edge of my bra, teasing, before he unhooks it and lets it join the dress.
His touch is firm yet tender as he cups my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples, and I gasp at the sensation.
I reach for his shirt, fumbling with the buttons until he helps me, shedding it along with the rest of his clothes.
His body is all hard lines and muscle, and I can’t resist running my hands over his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath my fingertips.
He groans as I drag my nails lightly down his back, arching into me.
He lifts me effortlessly, carrying me to the bed and laying me down gently.
His hands slide down my body, slipping beneath the waistband of my panties, and I lift my hips to help him remove them.
His fingers find my pussy, already slick with want, and he teases me, circling my clit until I’m writhing beneath him.
“Dralgor,” I gasp, my voice trembling with need.
He doesn’t make me wait any longer. Positioning himself between my legs, he thrusts his cock into me slowly, filling me completely.
I cry out, wrapping my legs around his waist as he begins to move, each stroke driving me closer to the edge.
His pace quickens, his breathing ragged as he pounds into me, and I cling to him, nails digging into his back.
His body presses into mine, the weight of him solid and grounding.
Every thrust sends a shockwave of pleasure through me, his cock stretching me in the best way.
The rhythm is slow at first, deliberate, as if he’s savoring the way I take him.
My fingers dig into his shoulders, holding on as the heat between us builds.
“You feel so good,” he growls against my ear, his breath ragged.
I arch beneath him, meeting each movement, my body already tightening around him. His hands slide down to grip my hips, pulling me harder against him, and the friction sends sparks skittering up my spine. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, mingling with our ragged breaths.
He shifts, angling deeper, and I gasp as he hits a spot inside me that makes my vision blur. My legs tighten around him, urging him on, and he groans, his pace turning rougher, more desperate.
“Clara—” His voice is rough, strained, and I know he’s close.
I drag my nails down his back, my own climax coiling tight in my belly. “Don’t stop,” I pant, my voice breaking.
His thrusts grow erratic, his grip bruising, and then he’s shuddering above me, his release spilling hot inside me. The sensation tips me over the edge, pleasure crashing through me in waves. My body clenches around him, drawing out his pleasure as my own pulses through me.
He collapses against me, his forehead pressed to mine, both of us breathing hard. His fingers trace lazy patterns along my side, his touch tender now, almost reverent.
I press a kiss to his jaw, my limbs still trembling. He exhales, a soft, satisfied sound, and pulls me closer.
His breath is still hot against my skin, our bodies tangled together under the sheets. The fire’s glow bathes the room in soft amber light, and I feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest against mine. His hand traces circles on my hip, slow and deliberate, as if memorizing every curve.
He shifts, rolling onto his side to face me, his eyes holding mine. There’s no smirk, no teasing—just a quiet intensity that makes my heart skip. His thumb brushes across my lower lip, and I press a kiss to it, feeling the roughness of his skin against mine.
“Clara,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost reverent.
I don’t answer with words. Instead, I lean in, capturing his mouth with mine.
The kiss is slow, deep, and filled with something I can’t quite name—something fragile and raw that neither of us has dared to voice.
His hands slide down my back, pulling me closer, until there’s no space left between us.
He breaks the kiss only to trail his lips down my neck, his teeth grazing my collarbone in a way that makes me shiver. His hand slips between my thighs, fingertips brushing over my still slick folds, and I arch into him with a gasp.
“You’re so wet for me,” he growls, his voice rough.
I reach for him, my fingers wrapping around his cock, already hard and throbbing. He groans, his hips jerking forward as I stroke him, his breath hot against my skin.
“I want more,” I whisper, my voice trembling with need.
He doesn’t hesitate, guiding himself again to my pussy. The first thrust is slow, deliberate, and I gasp as he fills me completely. He pauses, letting me adjust, his forehead pressed to mine, our breaths mingling.
Then he moves, his hips rolling in a rhythm that’s unhurried but insistent. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through me, my body tightening around him. His hands grip my hips, pulling me closer, deeper, until I’m gasping his name, my nails digging into his shoulders.
He shifts, angling himself just right, and I cry out as he hits that spot inside me that makes my vision blur. His pace quickens, his thrusts harder, more frantic, and I cling to him, my legs wrapping around his waist.
“Dralgor—” My voice breaks on his name, my body already trembling on the edge.
“Come again, Clara,” he growls, his voice thick with need. "Want you coming all night."
And I obey, my orgasm crashing over me in waves, my body clenching around him. He follows moments later, his release spilling hot inside me as he groans my name, his body shuddering above mine.
The firelight dances across the room, casting Dralgor’s sharp features in a soft glow.
His chest rises and falls steadily beneath my ear, his hand absently tracing patterns on my shoulder.
The weight of his arm around me is grounding, like an anchor in the quiet of the room.
I exhale, my body still humming with the aftershocks of what just happened.
“You’re thinking too loud,” he rumbles, his voice low and lazy, like the warm embers in the hearth.
“I’m not thinking,” I lie, my fingers idly tracing the scars on his chest. They’re raised and uneven, a map of battles I don’t know the stories to yet. “I’m just… existing.”
He snorts, a sound that’s both amused and disbelieving. “You’re never just existing, little teacher. Your mind’s always racing, even when your body’s still.”
I tilt my head to glance up at him, narrowing my eyes. “And here I thought I was the one who analyzes everything. Turns out you’re just as bad.”
The corner of his mouth quirks, but he doesn’t deny it. His hand slides up to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering there for a moment too long.
He shifts slightly, pulling me closer so I’m half-draped over him. My cheek rests against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a soothing counterpoint to my own thoughts.
“You’re warm,” I murmur, my voice muffled against his skin. “Like a giant space heater.”
He chuckles, the sound reverberating through me. “Thanks. I’ll add it to the list of my many talents.”
“Right next to ‘impossibly stubborn’ and ‘annoyingly good at everything,’” I add, tilting my head to look up at him again. His grin is smug, and I can’t resist poking him in the ribs. He doesn’t flinch, but his hand catches mine, holding it firmly against his chest.
“Keep that up, and I’ll have to remind you why you shouldn’t start fights you can’t finish,” he warns, though there’s no real threat in his tone—just that gravelly edge that makes my stomach flip.
I raise an eyebrow, trying to look unimpressed. “Is that a promise or a threat?”
His eyes darken, and for a moment, I think he might take me up on the challenge. But then he exhales, his grip on my hand relaxing. “Both. But right now, I’m enjoying the quiet.”
“A rare moment of peace,” I tease, though I settle back against him, my fingers resuming their idle tracing of his scars. The fire crackles softly, filling the silence with its gentle rhythm.
He doesn’t respond, but his hand moves to my back, drawing slow, lazy circles that make my eyelids heavy. I close my eyes, letting the warmth of him and the fire lull me into a rare, contented stillness.
“You’re good at this,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Good at what?” he asks, his tone equally soft.
“Being here,” I say. “Like this.”
His hand stills for a moment, and I feel the tension ripple through him, subtle but there. Then he exhales, and his fingers resume their motion, slower this time. “I’m learning.”
I smile, my cheek pressing into his chest. “Keep practicing. You’ll get the hang of it.”
He doesn’t laugh, but I feel the faint rumble in his chest, a silent acknowledgment. And for now, that’s enough.