by Alisa Woods
He was taken with lust, driven as he was driving into her. Her pleas for more and faster were fuel poured on his fire, and the hot wet smacking of their bodies would surely burn them both out. His own climax was rocketing toward him like an inferno.
“Come for me,” he panted, working his hand forward to find her nub and speed her release. “My treasure, please,” he pleaded.
She groaned, but in frustration.
He stroked her harder, both with his cock and his hand. She bucked against him, wild in it, but still no crying out, no quivering of feminine flesh finding the peak.
“Arabella.” He couldn’t last much longer. It took everything to hold out.
She pounded the wall with her fist, crying out, but not in a good way—this was the sound of anger, not pleasure.
“I can’t.” The words were a whisper, and he almost didn’t hear them over the ragged breaths and breathy groans.
He sunk deep inside her and held still. “You can’t… what?”
“I can’t… I just don’t…” She was pulling away from him.
Every instinct in him ran cold. He pulled his cock from her body so he could turn her around. Her face was streaked with tears. “Arabella.” What had he done?
She was wiping at her face, looking everywhere but him, ignoring his attempts to bring her into his arms. “It’s okay. It’s fine. I’m sorry… I just can’t…”
“Did I hurt you?” Horror held him so still he couldn’t breathe.
That snapped her attention to his face. “No! God, no. It’s me. I’m… I just can’t…” She was back to staring at the ground and avoiding him.
His mind was flooded with a haze of lust and sex and the sweet wetness of her body still coating his fully erect cock, waving in the air between them.
He hadn’t hurt her. That seeped in, quickly followed by, But she’s still hurting.
He pulled her close, ignoring her protest and tucking her head against his chest, warming her with the heat of his body. His cock throbbed against her belly, but that couldn’t be helped.
“Tell me,” he commanded. His hand cupped her bottom and pressed her body against his. “Tell me what I can do.”
“Nothing,” she mumbled against his skin. But she wasn’t trying to move away. “You can’t do anything. I’m just… broken.”
He frowned. Broken? What in the name of magic did she mean? He pulled her back so he could peer down into those beautiful green eyes. “In what way?”
Her gaze averted, so he brought it back up, a finger under her chin. Then he kissed her, gently, on the lips. “I can’t taste what’s wrong, Arabella. There’s too much, too many conflicting things, all mixed together. You have to tell me.”
She swallowed, but held his gaze. “I… I can’t come.”
His scowl grew deeper. “This is how you’re… broken?”
Red rushed her cheeks, more than the heat of their fervent coupling, and she averted her gaze again. “It’s not you. It’s me. I just can’t. Not with a man. Not since…” She stopped and the small hairs on her arms lifted.
Not since… the darkness in her past. It was still haunting her. He had no idea what had happened, and he certainly wouldn’t press her to tell the story of it… but that remnant was like a demon that had invaded her body and taken possession of it, robbing her of the very thing that she owned by birthright. The pleasure of being a woman.
“This needs to be fixed.” He swept her up in his arms and carried her out of the hallway, across the great room, and toward the spiral stairs that led to the second floor. He was going to do what he should have done in the first place…
Take this treasure to his bed.
God, she was an idiot.
For some reason, Arabella thought sex with a man like Lucian would be different. He was the most insanely sexy man she had ever met, gorgeous across every inch of his muscle-rippling body, and the sexual tension between them had been killing her for days. If there were anyone who could plunge her into a lust-filled frenzy, it was him. But she was even more broken than she thought.
This is permanent. I’ll never be normal again. That thought had brought the tears gushing down her face, even as Lucian was still trying to bring her to climax, doing all the things a man should do. It was her. It was the horror of that night—it had reached deep inside her, to a place that reason couldn’t touch. No amount of talk therapy or intellectual understanding could fix that primal part of her mind. It had shut down that one fateful, dark, horrible night… and it wasn’t ever coming back.
And now Lucian was carrying her up to his bedroom, cradling her so gently in his arms, the power of them so immense, so strong, that she didn’t feel awkward at all. In fact, the way he was holding her naked body solidly against his—not in a sexual way, just with complete tenderness and concern—made her feel safer than she’d ever been with a man.
It still wasn’t enough. His hotness wasn’t enough. His insanely erotic lovemaking wasn’t enough. She’d tried again and again with men, ever since that night, and it always ended the same—massive frustration on her part. Some men didn’t even care, they just did their business and were done. Some took it as some kind of personal affront that they couldn’t bring her to climax. But Lucian… he was whisking her away to try again, determined to fix this.
Only she knew it was hopeless.
She should tell him. The whole thing. Then maybe he’d understand and not put them both through the torment.
Lucian elbowed open the door and walked her inside his expansive, beautifully-appointed bedroom. He kissed her temple before climbing onto his enormous circular bed with the mirror on the ceiling and setting her gently on the comforter. So sweet. It threatened to spring tears out of her eyes again as he settled in next to her, his skin hot against hers where they touched. His cock was hard and heavy against her side—God, that had felt good inside her. He was so damn big, easily the largest man she’d ever had, and she thought that would make a difference.
It didn’t. Obviously.
His leg casually brushed against hers, and his fingers wove into her hair, bringing it forward to fan over her breasts, hiding a bit of her nakedness. He was peering urgently into her eyes, waiting for something. Probably for her to say something. Which she should do, but the words were suddenly dammed up behind her near-tears.
“You don’t have to explain.” His fingers were trailing through her hair, brushing her breast underneath the cascade of it. His naked chest had dragon tattoos and the runes he had shown her before. They were moving, slowly flexing and pulsing along his body in a way that mesmerized her.
She pulled in a breath. “I should explain. That way, you’ll see—it’s just not going to work.”
“Then, by all means, do.” He moved a little, so his body touched hers more, his broad chest leaning against her side. He peered into her eyes. “But know that I’ve lived five hundred years, my treasure, and there is absolutely nothing you can say which will surprise me.”
“Five hundred years. You weren’t kidding when you said that before.” Holy fuck. No wonder his words sounded like they were from a different time. But they were also oddly reassuring. And it was strange, what had happened to her. The few men she had told hadn’t known what to do with it.
Lucian smiled a little, but it was sad. His fingers still traced small lines of heat across her chest. “No, it is not a joke. Dragons aren’t immortal, strictly speaking, but the years can seem an eternity.”
She frowned. He had his own darkness. She had sensed it from the beginning. Maybe if she opened up, shared hers, he would do the same. And he already knew the embarrassing part—that she was no longer able to function sexually. Broken. There wasn’t really another word for it.
She placed her hand over his, stilling it where it had lightly been touching her breast. Then she pressed his hand against it. His eyes flashed, the light amber showing a bit of his golden dragon for a moment. Then his eyelids dropped a little, lust hazing them again.
His eyes opened wide again, and he smirked. “That’s not a word often used to describe me.”
“Well, it’s true.” She touched his cheek with her fingertips. So warm. Like he was burning hot dragon fire in his veins instead of blood. “You’re sweet for wanting to fix me, but it’s not going to work. I’ve tried. More times than I want to think about. But what happened to me isn’t something that can be erased or undone.”
He frowned but didn’t speak. And she knew what he must be thinking. That she had been raped. Only it hadn’t been that… not exactly. Technically, yes. Her therapist said yes. But it was both more than that and different. Which was why she needed to explain.
“I’ve had my share of loser men in my life,” she started.
His frown disappeared into a sudden attentiveness. He shifted his hand from her breast to her cheek, brushing it with the backs of his fingers. “Tell me.”
“It started in foster care,” she said, drawing in a breath and searching for a way to make this quick. “A long string of lecherous foster fathers and boys my age who just wanted sex. And a couple who thought it was okay to hit a woman who didn’t do what he wanted.”
The gold in Lucian’s eyes flashed again, but his face was set in a mask of concern. “I’m well aware of those kinds of men.”
“None of them ever actually…” She swallowed. “No one ever managed to rape me. It’s kind of a miracle, really, given the situations I’ve been in. Hit, yes. Punched in the gut, once or twice. Left with a bloody lip for not keeping the fridge full? Yeah.”
Lucian’s face twitched, micro flinches that spoke to her about how good this man really was. Most men gave her looks like they didn’t believe her. A few grimaced, horrified. This one was feeling her words like they were strikes against him. Her heart couldn’t help opening with that.
He stayed quiet, waiting for her to go on.
“But then I thought I had finally found someone who was… decent,” she said. “He was bright and funny. A law student like me. We were madly in love. At least, I thought we were. I should have known that I had no idea what love really was. What it looks like. Feels like. I thought because he wanted me and didn’t beat the shit out of me or try to rape me, that meant he loved me. But there was a side of him, a darker side, that I didn’t… well, I just plain didn’t see it. I was so used to seeing the ugliness of a man paraded around on the outside, I guess I just missed the signals...” Her throat was closing up.
Lucian’s frown was back. He stroked her hair again. “He was better at hiding behind a mask than the others.”
Yes. He understood. That opened up her air again. “I thought I was a fool for not seeing it, but it turned out, he was just really good at lying.”
Lucian flinched again, and his hand stilled.
But she wanted to keep going—to get it all out now. “We were making love one night. It was rough, but that was the way he liked it, and I didn’t think anything of it. I had no warning. Suddenly his hands were around my throat, while we were in the act, and he started saying these things…” She had to stop to swallow down the sickness at the back of her throat. She cleared it. “Things like how I was perfect for him. That I was just what he wanted. That I had better never leave him because he would always find me. And that I would be easy to kill. That it would be nothing at all. And he wanted me to understand that he could do that. So he just kept squeezing tighter and tighter, all while he kept…” She had to suck in a breath, and it was ragged, shaky. Fuck. She thought she could get through this without melting down.
“Shhh… it’s all right,” Lucian said, his hands on her face, stroking her again as he peered into her eyes. “You don’t need to relive it, my treasure. I understand well enough.”
She blinked back her tears and looked away from the sweet concern in his eyes. Then she forced the rest out. “He nearly killed me. Choked me until I passed out. The EMT’s had to revive me. I don’t think he meant to actually kill me. But I remember all of it. I remember him inside me while his hands were on my throat, killing me… all the way up until I blacked out.”
When she looked back, his eyes glinted gold again. “And this demon still haunts you.”
“He was just a man—”
“No.” The forcefulness of it stopped her. “He was as evil as any demon I’ve ever known. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he was precisely the kind of demon I extinguished in the alley—half man, but with evil woven into his DNA. These things exist. But knowing what I know now about the person that you are, Arabella, my treasure, perhaps I should have stood back and let you slay that man in the alleyway. I have little doubt you could have accomplished it. Are you sure you’re not part angel?”
“What?” It was so incongruous, it brought an uncertain smile to her face. “Um… yeah? I’m pretty sure I’m not… wait. Are you saying angels actually exist?” Her eyes went wide.
“Oh, yes.” He smirked. “And you more than resemble one. Angels love humanity, as you do. They are transcendentally beautiful, as you are. And when they give in to their great love and mate with a human, the hybrid child is a slayer, a human/angel half-breed who is the most formidable of foes and quite capable of destroying demons, which the angels themselves are forbidden from doing.” His smile gentled, and he tapped his finger gently on her nose. “You have all the makings of a slayer, my treasure. You slay demons every day in your work. I am sure you can conquer this one as well.”
His words and his touch… they stole her breath right out of her body. Of course, she wasn’t an angel of any kind, not a hybrid or whatever. But the way he saw her—strong, beautiful, vanquisher of evil things—was heating up her body again. Which was painful on top of the already aching need she had between her legs. Maybe they could try again. Even if she couldn’t climax, she would at least have this gorgeous, gentle man touching her, filling her.
She reached both hands to his cheeks and kissed him.
He groaned and slid onto her in an instant, covering her body in the most delicious way. His tongue dove deep inside her mouth, pushing her head back into the softness of the mattress. She opened her eyes and glimpsed his body in the mirror above them, moving against hers, his hands skimming her sides, touching her everywhere.
He broke the kiss and breathed hotly against her. “Let me pleasure you, Arabella. I beg of you.”
God, the way he talked. She ran her hands through his hair and bucked her hips against him. His cock was rock-hard between them. “I want you inside me.”
He groaned again, his eyes half-lidded. His hand skimmed down to her hip, but instead of moving to enter her, he held it still against the bed. Then he dipped his head to her neck and tasted her, running the tip of his tongue along her skin, trailing down across her collar bones, and leaving a hot, wet line that seared into her. He lingered at her breast a moment, brushing away her hair and taking a nipple into his mouth.
“Oh!” she gasped as he lightly bit down on it, his tongue teasing and hot. She arched up into him, and he kept flicking for a moment, then released her, holding her breast firm while his tongue traced a wicked line down her belly, heading for her sex.
Oh, God. He was going down on her. Few men had, and it had always been a kiss-and-dash affair. But she wasn’t about to deny him, not with how his fingers were already there, working her swollen nub and sending hot flashes of pleasure zipping through her. He nudged apart her legs and settled his face between them… and then did things with his tongue she didn’t know were possible. She arched off the bed, grasping hold of his hair, her fingers buried in it as he thrust two long fingers deep inside her, all while keeping rhythm with his circling tongue and deliciously hot lips. God, the pressure… it was building, so fast and so hot, it was stealing her breath, but no matter how much her body wanted to buck and arch and move, he stayed fixed to her sex, his mouth and his fingers p
erforming a symphony of pleasure-torture on her body.
“Oh, God, Lucian, yes!” Words were spilling from her lips, incoherent curses mixed up with his name. She might actually die of this aching pleasure he was wrenching out of her. “Please don’t stop.”
His only answer was to pick up the pace with his fingers thrusting inside her, adding a third, which rivaled his gorgeous cock in the way that it filled her. She shrieked and called out his name, and just when she thought she might actually have a heart attack and die in a puddle of lust-driven heat, the pressure deep in her belly swelled up, hovered, dangled so close, so close, so close… and then her entire body convulsed. The orgasm possessed her. A scream ripped from her mouth. The pleasure wracked her, pulsing from the epicenter between her legs and shooting mind-numbing waves out to her head and her toes and every part in between. It went on and on until she thought she might die of that… but then it eased, passing like a tsunami, leaving her wrecked it its wake.
Every muscle in her body released. She sunk into the bed so completely, she was surprised she didn’t disappear into it. She was limp and buzzing and couldn’t have moved if her life depended on it. Her eyes lazily opened, as thoroughly bliss-filled as the rest of her, and she could just barely focus on her reflection in the mirror above the bed. She was sprawled on her back, Lucian’s face still between her legs, her hair fanned out to the side, arms lying loose. Her legs had ended up propped on his back. She didn’t remember putting them there. She could barely feel them.
Lucian was gently peppering her belly with kisses. She could feel that.
Oh God, he did it. He actually made her come. He’d broken through years of frustration and heartache with two minutes of tongue between her legs. Holy fuck, he was literally the God of Insane Sexual Powers. When he finally lifted his head to peer at her, his grin of satisfaction had nothing on the gratitude she felt rippling through her entire being.
This man… but he was no man. He was a golden dragon.
