It is curious. Is she embarrassed to have my face in her cunt? Is that why she covers her body and disguises her smell all the time? Humans are an odd people. The drakoni celebrate all forms of mating. Our females have no body shame. But then again, our males would never snap the arm of a female that has made them angry. Just the thought makes my thoughts swirl with fury again.

Stay with me, Sasha tells me nervously. You’re going dark again.

I am, and I am glad she is here to pull me back. I bury my face against her neck and drape my larger, heavier body over hers. I am glad for your mind, my sweet Sasha. You are the only thing that keeps me whole.

Her hand goes to my hair, and she fingers the texture of it even as she gives me a small smile. I’m glad you get something out of this mating, at least.

I get everything out of this mating. You have no idea how you have saved me. Do not downplay your worth, my mate. I will not hear of it.

“All right,” she whispers. It is clear she does not believe me, but that is all right. She does not need to believe yet. She will know in time.

For now, the intoxicating scent of her skin pulls me back to the moment. I settle my hips against hers, pushing her thighs apart so I can press my cock against the soft folds of her cunt. I want to rub her scent all over me, but I must be content with going slower. Shall I press my face to your breasts, then? Lick them until your mating scent grows overpowering?

She sucks in a breath, and the look in her eyes is unfocused, her thoughts full of my hands, covered in lotion, plucking at her nipples. Ah, when I stroked her before. She liked it, even if she did not wish to admit it to me.

I use my elbow to prop my weight up over her, and very carefully place one hand over her small breast. Sasha bites at her full lower lip, and I want to bite it myself, to taste her again. Slow, I remind myself. Patient. I stroke my hand over her skin, enjoying the sheer pleasure of touching her. The contrast between us is great. My skin is a strong bronze compared to her paler one, my scales so tight in my two-legged form that they seem as nothing more than a pattern against my skin. She has no such markings herself, only the darker, duskier shade of her nipples. Even now they are budded tight, the tips pointed. Her chest moves up and down rapidly, and she quivers as if this is the first time she has ever been touched.

So very serious about mating, my Sasha. I am sad she finds no joy in simply touching another or letting herself be touched. I must change this. I receive no greater pleasure than touching her and want the same for her. I must show her that our mating can be good. That she will have no regrets as my mate.

I drag my claws lightly over her skin. I would never puncture her flesh with them, and I am always careful. Over and over, I simply stroke her, avoiding her sensitive nipples. She relaxes underneath me after a few moments, and her breathing slows from its anxious rasp. She finds it comforting to be touched, I realize, even if she does not care for the act of mating itself.

I must focus on touching, then, until she craves more. I lower my head and rub my face between her breasts, breathing deep.

She startles at this, but strokes my hair. She is silent, an odd sort of anticipation and dread building in her mind. I put my mouth on the tip of one breast and lick it, and she squirms underneath me. The hint of pleasure she feels diminishes, and her dread is growing overwhelming. In the span of mere moments, she has gone from pleasure to dismay once more.

This is not working.

I will not give up, though. I must find a way to make my Sasha stay with me, stay in the pleasure of the moment instead of retreating to her memories. I think back to what she responded to just a few short moments ago. She liked my kisses and she liked my forward words. Perhaps I need to take control away from her, to take her off guard. She is in her mind too much and I am letting her think too hard.

She needs to not think at all.

Perhaps I am going too slow when I should be going faster.

I sit up and give her a mental command. Spread your thighs for me.

Her eyes go wide, and her mind flickers. Again, I receive the startled mix of excitement and worry. “My…thighs?”

Yes. Hold yourself open for me. I want to look down on you.

Sasha’s mouth forms a circle in surprise, and I can smell her arousal on the air. Her thoughts are a tangle once more, but this is good. This means she is not focused on her dread. One hand slides to her knee, and then she hooks her fingers behind her leg, pulling it up. She spreads both of them wide, exposing her cunt to me, and her face is flushed with a mixture of awkward feelings and nervous arousal.

Seeing her like this is a glorious sight. I put my hand on her other ankle since she cannot, and press her legs farther apart until she is spread wide for me. Her folds gleam with a hint of wetness underneath the dark curls, and I enjoy the sight of it. I am going to put my face there soon, I tell her. I am pleased when I can feel her shudder.

I press my mouth to her ankle, licking the delicate bones and skin there. She squirms against my touch but does not pull away. I move my face down her leg, kissing as I do. The anticipation builds inside her, flooding her thoughts, and by the time I get close to the juncture of her thighs, she is panting, her scent perfuming the air.

My mouth waters with need. I want nothing more than to press my face there in her soft, slick folds and taste her. But she is expecting that, and I want to keep her off her guard, if I can. It takes everything I have to pull away. I stroke my fingers over her folds briefly as I sit up, and taste her sweetness off of my claws. Sit up, my mate.

“S-sit up?” Her thoughts are hazy. She blinks at me in aroused surprise, but does as I ask.

Yes. Sit up before me. I get to my feet, standing tall. My cock juts out from my body, the hard length of it aching with need. As she gazes up at me, she looks so tousled and soft and lovely that I want to fling her to the floor and mount her. I send the thought to her, and her breath stutters. Her nipples grow hard, and she shifts in her seat, aware of her own arousal and confusion. This is not how she expected things to go, and her thoughts are both pleased and full of surprise.

Good. I will keep surprising her. I want you to touch me.

Her eyes go wide, and she looks up at me with surprise. Touch you? Where?

Anywhere you wish. Anywhere you’d like to explore. It takes all that I am to keep my hands at my sides, but I somehow manage. I want her to see that my strength is not something to be feared, that it is there so I can protect her and be a good mate to her.

24