And really, so have I. I know my panties are soaked from the play between us, even if it was all mental. I know just thinking about what’s coming up makes me prickle with awareness and my pulse starts to race. I don’t even have to turn around to show Dakh how turned on I am at the moment.

He knows. He knows because he’s in my thoughts, and because I can feel his, too. The way he hungers to touch me. The stream of images of how he plans on touching me. The need that batters at his willpower. He’s been fighting hard against his desire to drag me to his side and pull me against him, under him.

But now there’s no need to fight it.

No sooner do I think that than Dakh grabs me by the waist and swings me into his arms. He’s mindful of my sling as he tucks me against his chest, striding for the table. He sets me down on the edge of it and then sweeps the paper plates and empty cups off to the side, making a mess.

“What are we doing?” I ask, breathless.

I am going to taste my mate, just like I have wanted. His eyes gleam bright gold at the thought, lighter than his bronzed skin.

“Right here?” Nervousness is in my voice, but so is need. There’s something outrageous about the thought of having sex outside, even if there’s nobody around but us. A dragon could fly overhead and see us. Emma could return. Nomads could be hiding in the distant trees. All of these things are unlikely but add an edge to the hunger I feel. I’m both appalled and aroused at the thought.

Is this not where I would taste my mate? Here on this table? You made such sweet sounds as you licked your fingers. Now it is my turn.

“You’re going to lick my fingers?” I tease, even as he cradles my head and tilts me back on the flat, wobbly surface of the patio table.

No. It is my turn to do the licking. I am going to lick you everywhere. I hunger for you, my sweet Sasha. And I will have you. He tugs at the long skirt of my sundress, his claws flexing. He thinks for a moment, and then remembers that I don’t like for my clothing to be ripped, and pushes it up, past my knees. A moment later, his head disappears under the bright floral skirt.

I give a surprised little squeal at the feel of his hot skin brushing against my inner thigh. A moment later, I feel his nose press against the crotch of my panties, feel his teeth and tongue press against the material. I hate these, he tells me, thoughts full of my scent and my arousal. They block me from my favorite part of you.

I moan, squirming at that strangely erotic touch.

His claws gently move against my skin, and then I feel him push aside my panties. In the next moment, his tongue drags over my sensitive folds, and a cry rips from my throat.

Hush, or you will bring your human friend back here, wondering what terrible things the drakoni warrior is doing to her.

Drakoni…warrior? That sounds badass and yet sexy. “Is that what you are?”

Your drakoni warrior, he tells me between fierce licks of my pussy. A male eager to claim his mate.

Just hearing that fierce, possessive growl in my thoughts makes me even wetter, and I squirm as his tongue lashes over my sensitive folds, dragging back and forth. He’s not focusing on any one particular spot, which is both deliciously teasing and aggravating at once. I want him to push a finger inside me. I want him to suck on my clit. I want all kinds of filthy, dirty things from him and he’s taking his sweet time.

Impatient, he chides as he gives me another slow, torturous lick. I thought you wanted to wait?

“Changed my mind,” I pant, pushing my hips up against his mouth.

Shall we go inside? You do not like the table, I think. He starts to raise his head.

I put a hand on his thick, wild hair and hold him there. “No! Stay there.” I’m panting with need. “Don’t you dare move.”

His thoughts rumble with amusement, and then he gives me another deliciously slow lick. I think I like it when my mate is demanding. What would you like for me to do, my fire? His tongue drags over my clit. Taste you here? He licks lower. Or here? Even lower, and his tongue rasps against my core, then penetrates me. Or here?

I give a little whine, because it’s not fair that I have to pick. I want all of it. Did I feel weird about being on the table before? Right now Emma could show up again and I would make her wait until I was done with Dakh. I need this. I didn’t realize how badly I needed it until he touched me. I’m wild with arousal, and it’s like the fire he calls me is licking through my veins. “Tongue,” I rasp between panting breaths. “Clit.”

His mouth immediately descends on my clit, tongue stroking over it in the way that drives me absolutely crazy.

I whimper, tugging at my skirts because my view is blocked. It’s both exciting and frustrating to not be able to see what he’s doing. He’s making me utterly crazy, and as a result, I’m getting closer and closer to the orgasm I so desperately need.

Of course, the moment I start to think about it, it begins to slide out of my grasp. It’s like being aware that I’m having pleasure means my brain needs to sabotage me, to turn me back into the Old Sasha, who didn’t enjoy sex. The rasp of Dakh’s tongue against my clit becomes too sensitive, and this time, when I squirm, it’s to get away. “Dakh, wait—”

Do not think, my mate.

“Oh, easy for you to say!”

Just enjoy. Do not think about the past. Think about me here, with my mouth on you, giving you pleasure. Relax. His thoughts are a soothing balm over my own increasingly worried ones. Let me be in charge. Let me control your pleasure. Nothing is required of you except to lie back and let me touch you.

My nipples get hard at the thought, and I moan breathlessly. There’s something so erotic about being completely out of control of the situation. It’s like as long as he’s in charge, I have permission to let my body react any way I like, and how can I not like the wet, insistent rasp of his tongue against my clit?

That is right. Let me pleasure you.

A moment later, I feel something large and insistent press against my core. I gasp when it penetrates me shallowly, because that small touch amplifies everything I’m feeling. “Oh God…what-what are you doing?”

I can feel him nuzzle my clit with his lips, and I nearly come off the table. I am giving you what you wanted—I am giving you everything.

“Not the claws, I hope,” I breathe, thinking of the deadly, talon-like claws tipping his fingers.

Never. He sends me a visual of his knuckle as he pushes it into me, and that mental image is incredibly erotic. I moan again, and when he pushes into me once more, it starts to send me into overload.