His dragon was momentarily confused, and as it relented, he somehow found the strength to reach for her wrist to stop her.
“Damian,” she whispered, setting her forehead against his. “I need this. Please. Just help me forget everything else a little longer.”
She’d come into his life and reached into his chest and had somehow shaken everything up again, bringing things to the surface that he’d forgotten he possessed. How on earth was he supposed to fight her when the thing she wanted most was what he wanted too? She leaned forward against him, enveloping him with her sweet perfume, her hair sliding over them both, her breasts temptingly close to where he could kiss them, her hand still wrapped around his rock-hard cock.
“I know, Andi, but,” he began, his voice guttural—and his dragon cut him off.
You would never hurt your mate.
Damian’s hand paused in surprise and she took that as permission not to stop.
She’s not, he protested.
Can’t you feel it? Can’t you smell it? his dragon asked.
All he could feel was her hand around him, and how much he yearned to be back inside her. And the entire car smelled like sex, obviously, but something in Andi’s scent—the caramel and apples and ocean that he was familiar with—had deepened into a sweet and heady musk—a scent that he would follow anywhere, were it made into perfume.
Don’t you know? his dragon pressed, showing him memories from his own mind. The way his chest had tightened when he’d first seen her at the bus stop, how aptly she’d handled Austin and he’d approved, how safe he felt leaving Zach with her—even when she’d operated on him, fucking hell!—and how he hadn’t been able to bring himself to steal her memories away when he’d never had any compunction about doing it to others before. And then, at the restaurant, when he’d known he had to have her—everything else be damned. All of it made sense now.
What was happening between them wasn’t just lust. It was some strange kind of fate.
Oh…God…yes, he whispered to his dragon in rising horror. But we can never, ever, tell her, he told his dragon, as he opened up his eyes and saw Andi smiling softly down. Promise me.
His dragon paused again at this, and he felt the confusion swirling from it before it gave up on trying to understand. Human words are yours, not mine, it said. But we both share this body.
“I can stop if you want?” she asked, slowing down. She looked as confused as his dragon felt, but he released her arm.
“You make things harder for me,” he said hoarsely.
She snorted with a grin. “I don’t think you have any problem with that yourself.”
No wonder she drove him mad; no wonder being with her felt right. “Hmmmm.” He made an accommodating sound and leaned forward until he was almost upright and she was scrambling for purchase. “Here,” he said, picking her up and setting her back into her seat gently.
“Damian,” she protested, misreading his intent until he reached his hands over to operate the latches on her seat as well, pushing it back and flat just as his seat had been. He finished pushing off his jeans, kicked off his shoes, and then joined her on her side of the car—his hands on either side of her seat, a knee between her legs. She was exposed to him—the perfection of her breasts, the marks he’d left upon them at her urging, the smooth slide of skin down her ribs and across her belly, where the slit in her skirt had rolled over to its most advantageous point and parted to reveal the fine triangle of hair above where they’d so recently been joined.
“You’re perfect,” he said, trying to memorize her now, to embed an image of her so deep inside that even Forgetting Fire, if it worked on him, wouldn’t be able to pull it free.
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she teased, flushing. He could feel the heat of it rising and watched her squirm.
“Is that so?” he asked and moved to kiss her again.
She laced her arms around his neck as he slowly matched himself back to her, chest to chest, hips to hips, his thick cock nudging between her thighs for only a moment before she spread herself as wide as she could for him—given the door nearby—wrapping her legs around him as he slowly sank in. She gasped, and he moaned. How was it possible that being in a woman could feel this good?
Not just any woman, his dragon intoned.
Damian looked down at her, trying to tell if she felt this too, and found her jaw dropped and eyes closed as his cock filled her again. She made a soft sound of satisfaction.
“Okay, I lied – flattery will get you a lot of places, if you keep making me feel like that,” she said, reaching up to wind a hand in his hair, opening her eyes to look up at him, bright and wild and ready.
Did she somehow already know too?
He made a triangle of his arms around her, his elbows on the seat above her shoulders, him cradling her head inside his hands as he held her down and kissed her—and then began to thrust.
There was no part of her that did not feel good to him—her mouth, her skin, the way her breasts bobbed against him each time his cock landed—and inside, where her heat enveloped him, so swollen and wet and tight. Every time he pushed in her, he felt like he was breaking new ground, and every time he pulled out the loss of contact with her was too terrible to bear.
Because of this, a primal fear that each stroke might be his last—and because of how goddamned good it felt when she was wrapped around him—he couldn’t control himself. His hips started to pick up speed, and she went with him. Each time he landed in her, she made small moans, and each time he pulled out, she gasped until he plunged back inside again. He kissed her mouth fiercely and she met him just the same, her hands curled into his hair to keep his mouth to hers, like she was drinking from him—as his back arched and his hips thrust and her heels drummed against his hips each time he entered her and spread her wide and shoved himself in deep.
And then his vision changed. He wasn’t in the dim car anymore, hot over Andi, memorizing her perfection. No, he was flying—with another beast that he couldn’t quite see. A glimmer of gold racing off toward the sun. But he knew he longed for it; no, he lusted for it. And he knew it wanted him to chase it back—he wheeled in midair, and then he landed in himself, back with Andi, his body still, him panting wildly.
“Are you okay?” She pushed his hair out of his face, looking up at him with utter concern.
Damian was certain he’d just had a memory of something—only it had never happened to him before.
“Yes,” he lied, but it wasn’t a lie, really. He was still here, with her—his…mate. She still needed fucking, and he still needed to fuck her. The heat that he’d felt in him as a dragon for that moment still rode him, wracking him with urges meant for monsters instead of men, but his dragon was right. He wouldn’t hurt her; he could never hurt her. So, trusting in his dragon, he did as he liked. He moved up to kneeling, grabbed her legs and put one ankle against each shoulder, and then bent back down, plowing harder. He took his thumb and wet it with spit before planting it between her thighs to rub her clit, his other hand holding him up over her so that he didn’t crush her entirely, only just the perfect amount, feeling his cock slide into her again and again.
Her hands shot down to hold his wrist on her stomach. “Don’t stop…don’t stop…don’t stop,” she breathed.