Annwyl gasped as another pulse of heat passed through her. Her sex clenched. Her legs weakened. She was coming. She didn’t know how or why, but she was coming. And when a third wave of heat flashed through her body, she cried out. She came hard, her teeth biting into the flesh of his chest.
Fearghus kissed her then. His mouth brutally claiming hers, his tongue torturing hers with bold strokes.
The pain in her arms receded and her spasms stopped. Fearghus released her and she glanced down at her forearms, saw burned flesh on both. The lingering after-pain made her wonder if they would ever heal.
“That is so every dragon knows you belong to me.” He kissed her again as he laid her back against the table. “And this”—he kissed her breasts, her chest, her stomach—“this is for me.” He lowered his head between her legs, his tongue swiping the inside flesh of her thigh. She clenched her teeth as a burning pain spread over the area. He did the same to the other thigh and she gripped the table, her fingers digging into the wood. He breathed over the two areas and the pain swept through once again. Annwyl bit her lip to stop herself from screaming but a low moan escaped as her body shook. Then his tongue speared through the folds of her sex, replacing the pain with sweet, deep pleasure. Her back arched off the table, but he gripped her legs and held her as his tongue dipped inside and around the swollen, hungry flesh.
She forgot the pain as Fearghus’s talented tongue stroked her over and over again, bringing her closer and closer to release. Her hands clenched into fists, her moans filled the tent. Soon she began to shake as her climax ripped through her, a loud cry torn from her heated body.
Fearghus gently gathered her to him, pulling her off the table, and pressing her still shuddering body against his.
Fearghus whispered softly against her ear, “Are you all right?”
Her arms hurt. The insides of her thighs were sore. And burns permanently marred her body. Yes, Annwyl felt just fine.
She wet her lips and took a deep breath. “Is that all, dragon?”
Breathing hard, his cock hot and demanding against her, he growled. “Not even close.”
“Good. I was about to feel disappointed.”
Fearghus’s head brushed against hers as he breathed in deeply. “You always smell so good, Annwyl.”
“I do?” At least she hoped she said that. She wasn’t quite sure. Fearghus slowly rubbing his head against hers, his long hair sliding across her naked body, completely distracted her. An innocent move, it still made her knees weak and her nipples tighten painfully.
“You amaze me, woman.”
“Then finish it,” she purred as she wrapped her arms around his neck, ignoring the searing pain the move caused her forearms. “And keep me as your own.”
Apparently he needed no further prompting. He turned her so she faced the wood table and ran his hands down her back. His lips following close behind. Alternately nipping and sucking her skin. He licked any wounds she had, cleaning them with his tongue. She wanted to order him to get on with it, but she knew he would just make her wait longer. So she placed her hands, palms flat, against the table and wondered when she’d become such a bitch in heat. She’d lost all control around her dragon.
Fearghus wondered how long before she started barking orders at him. He grinned against her flesh. Annwyl reigned absolute as the most demanding female he’d ever met. And every day she surprised him. Already she handled the worst part of the Claiming, the Branding not being for the faint of heart.
Truth be told, he thought as soon as the process began she’d beg him to stop. At the first touch of heat on her arms, she’d panic and run. But he should’ve known she’d stay. She’d gritted her teeth and faced the challenge.
But he never expected her to climax. Her whole body shook with the force of it and she drew blood when she bit into his chest.
The Claiming differed from pairing-to-pairing—after all these years his parents’ notorious Claiming still remained the talk of the court—but he knew what he needed from his Annwyl. And, as always, it would be his pleasure to get it from her.
He pushed her legs apart and deftly entered her from behind. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard her mutter “About time.” Already wet and so tight, he felt like he might come before he even finished the first stroke. No other female ever made him so desperate. So hungry. He let his cock rest inside of her and he waited. And waited. She lasted about ten seconds before she pushed back into him.
He slapped her rear.
“Oi!”
“This is my Claiming, wench. Not yours. Try that again and we stop . . . for good.” He lied, of course. There would be no way he would ever stop taking her. Fucking her any and every way he could. But he loved that growl of annoyance she gave when he taunted her. It made him harder.
For good measure—and really just because he wanted to—he slapped her rear again. She glared at him over her shoulder, but she couldn’t hide the rush of moisture or the way her muscles gripped his cock.
She wanted him. Needed him. Which was good. Because this night he would make her his own, so that she’d never forget it.
* * *
She knew now that only one male could have ever claimed her. Only one dragon was strong enough to make her his and his alone. Any other male she would have left dead on the wedding sheets. But her Fearghus was brave enough to take her. Brave enough to burn his mark into her flesh. And brave enough to slap her ass.
He never tried to tame her. He loved everything about her, including her rage, and he never tried to change it or make it go away. Fearghus embraced it as he embraced all of her.
He was her perfect match and one day they would rule Garbhán Isle together.
Fearghus moved inside her. Slowly. Taking his time. Making her hungry for it. She cursed him but it came out suspiciously like a moan. But by the gods it felt so good. And she couldn’t stop herself from moaning. Gasping. Saying his name. Screaming his name.
He brought his long, hard body over hers and kissed her shoulders, back, and neck. His hands slipped under her body and gripped her breasts, squeezing her nipples tight. She leaned her head back and he kissed her.
He stood, lifting her chest off the table with one hand while the other slowly found its way down to her dripping sex. He massaged her there, avoiding her clit. And she thought briefly that she might possibly have to kill him.
She needed release. And she needed it now.
She leaned back against him, her arms going back to wrap around his neck as he hungrily nipped her throat. She again ignored the pain in her forearms as his black hair rasped across the wounds. She didn’t care. Because at that very moment, even the pain felt good.
“Finish it, Fearghus,” she begged desperately. “Now.”
“Tell me what I need to hear first, Annwyl. Tell me.”
Somehow, she knew exactly what he wanted. What he needed. And she would not delay in telling him. “I love you, Fearghus. I love you and I’m yours. There will be no other. Ever.” As if that had ever been an option.
“And I’m yours, Annwyl. Forever.”
“Yes. That’s wonderful,” she barked dismissively. “Now finish it.” He laughed, she assumed at the desperation in her voice. His cock thrust smoothly in and out of her as his fingers gripped her clit and firmly stroked the engorged nub. Her fingers dug into Fearghus’s hair, gripping the silky strands as the wave of heat spread across her lower back. She moaned desperately as her body began to shake. Heat tore up her spine and her clit throbbed uncontrollably. The moan became a scream as the climax racked her body. He fucked her through her orgasm, but when her cries settled he allowed himself to come with a roar, his seed exploding into her.