My mate, I growl into her thoughts. So good. I want to do this forever. My tongue flicks over her folds and grazes the little button she thinks of as a “clitoris.” It is as if she has been stung. She gives a little wail, and her hands curl against the hard floor. Aha. I feel as if I have found the secret. I bury my face into her warmth again, seeking out that little nub. Her body jerks as I move my tongue over it, and I repeat the action. Over and over, I work that one spot, figuring out the best way to touch her. She cries out with little choked gasps as my tongue circles her clitoris, and her thoughts spiral out of control. I can feel the tension increasing in her body, and her urgency excites my own. I want to be deep inside her, claiming her, but I want her to take her pleasure first.

“Dakh,” she pants with every flick of my tongue. My face is buried against her folds, and it is the finest thing I can imagine. My hands hold her hips down, and I can feel every quiver that moves through her body, every shiver of response, every tensing of her muscles. She writhes against me, her thoughts desperate for more. She needs something to push her over, to make her come, and the longer it takes, the more she starts to think that something is wrong. I can feel the doubt creeping into her thoughts, sapping away her enjoyment.

I will allow none of that. With a surge of my thoughts, I push a series of images into her mind—her with her mouth on my cock, me with my hand in her hair, holding her there. An image of my face between her thighs, lapping at her juices. Me feeding my cock into her cunt. All the while, I continue to work her little clit with my tongue with slow, steady strokes.

It is enough. She jerks against me and then comes with a little scream. I can feel the release explode in her mind, and her thoughts seem to crash all around me. Her scream turns into a moan, but I do not stop in my ministrations—I want her to get every bit of pleasure she can. So I continue to lick and lick as she comes and comes and comes.

Eventually, her thoughts become less chaotic and more dazed. A lick of my tongue turns from pleasure to discomfort, and I reluctantly pull away from her sweetness with one last lick. My cock is throbbing, hard and aching with the need to release inside her. My entire body feels overheated with my fires, and I am desperate to come inside her. I push into Sasha’s thoughts, looking for apprehension or fear. There is nothing, only a languid wonder.

I lean over her, my body covering hers, and I grab a fistful of her hair, my other hand on her hip. My mate, I tell her with a possessive surge.

And I push into her.

She cries out again, but I can feel the euphoria crash through her thoughts as I penetrate her. She likes it. It feels good. And she wants more. I’m so deep into her thoughts that ours begin to blend together, and I feed her my own sensations as I pull from hers. I send to her how tight her cunt is, how perfectly I fit inside her. How good she feels. She shivers with arousal, and her climax begins to build again.

Good. I want more of that.

I rock into her again, my hand tightening on her hair, and she whimpers with need. She’s pinned down underneath me, helpless to do anything but receive my body, and her thoughts flood with how erotic she finds it. She loves that I’m in control. She doesn’t have to do anything except take what I give her, and she craves even more as I thrust deep inside her. I’m so focused on my mate and her pleasure that I lose track of my own. Each slam of my cock into her is to give enjoyment to her, each roll of my hips against her own so I can penetrate her deeper. My Sasha. Mine.

I’m lost in the need to give her everything when I realize that my body is humming, my sac tight and ready to release. I’m on the edge myself, but I don’t want to go there until Sasha does again. I sink into her thoughts, sharing my pleasure with her, and she moans, long and low.

Tell me what you need, my Sasha. I want to make you come again.

Her thoughts flutter even as I drive into her, thrusting over and over again. Her breasts bounce with every thrust, and she thinks of her nipples, tight and aching, and then the little bud—the clitoris—between her thighs. If I touch them, her thoughts suggest…

I release her hair and continue to pound into her with continuous, hard strokes. She’s so wet and my movements are so fierce that our bodies slap together with every thrust, and she’s titillated by the sound of our mating. I slide my hand along the curve of her waist and then under her, reaching between her thighs. I find the little bud of her clitoris and rub the pad of my finger against it.

She jerks against me, pushing back into my next thrust, and her thoughts go wild. Mine do as well, and then I am conscious of nothing but my mate and pumping into her. Through a haze of need, I remember to touch her clit as I pound into her, and when she screams with her second climax, I know it is safe for me to release, too.

With a roar, I release my seed into my mate, letting the satisfaction of claiming her again wash over me.

My Sasha. Mine.

25

SASHA

Oh, sweet Jesus. A dragon’s boned me to death and I’m not even mad.

I lie with my cheek pressed to the concrete floor of the empty building. I’m pretty sure there’s a pebble under one boob, and I’m pretty sure my back’s at a weird angle with my butt still in the air. I’m also pretty sure I’m too boneless to move at the moment. Dakh pumps into me one last time as he climaxes, and then I feel sticky and hot as his semen washes over my insides. That’s definitely a…different experience than sex with a human guy.

I don’t even care. I never had an orgasm with a human guy. I just had two with Dakh, and I’m still reeling from them.

Dakh grunts as he slides off of me, and then a moment later, he pulls me against him as he lies on the floor. I let him arrange me against him like the boneless orgasm-noodle that I am, and try to sort my thoughts.

That was…yeah. I don’t even have words for it.

I told you that you would enjoy mating with me. Dakh’s thoughts are smug.

I reach up and push a hand over his mouth, as if that will somehow silence him. You be quiet. I need to process.

Your thoughts are amusing. He rubs my back, letting his claws drag up and down my skin in the lightest of scratches. It’s soothing. Our minds are connected now. Did you truly think I would mate with you and not care if you enjoyed yourself or not?

I don’t answer. I’m still getting used to the whole mental connection thing, and I feel like it was used as another sense in sex—not only were we tasting, touching, feeling, hearing and seeing each other, but he was in my head, directing how I should think. He kept me spinning off-balance, and as a result, I came harder than I’d ever imagined.