“I know that. Take off the dress.” He stepped closer. “Unless, you’d prefer I hold you down and tear it off.”
“These perverted fantasies of yours—”
“Make you wet?”
She held her thumb and forefinger up, a bit apart. “A little,” she whispered.
Before Dagmar knew it, they were both laughing. Should there be laughing? Listening to her sisters-in-law, she thought there should be something desperate and uncontrollable and wild. And although she felt all those things, she also felt … happy.
Gwenvael pressed his forehead against hers and kept his voice low, “It’s just you and me here, Beast. We’re not involving anyone else except maybe the crows sleeping in the trees. Whatever we do between the two of us, with only the two of us, is our business. That, my lady, is the beauty of fantasy.”
“As always, your words are smooth as glass, Defiler.”
“That doesn’t mean they’re not truthful.” He carefully removed her spectacles, taking the time to slip them into the hidden pocket of her gown. “Take off your dress. I’d hate for you to have to explain to Fannie what happened to the gown she got for you.”
Trying to focus her vision, Dagmar reached for the ties of her bodice. “You don’t think the mauling bear story would work with her?” she asked with a giggle.
* * *
Gwenvael silently watched while Dagmar untied the ribbon holding her bodice together. To keep some females calm, Gwenvael would talk. About their beauty, their wit, anything that would keep their focus on him and him alone. But he knew he had Dagmar’s attention and mere words were something the pair of them played with. They tortured others with their words, used their words to get what they wanted or needed.
He didn’t want any of that between them right now. He only wanted Dagmar, the woman boldly leering at him as she pulled the slightly too large bodice apart. His gaze remained on her face, watching the flush that flowed across her cheeks as she became more excited. Her scent teased his senses, making it hard for him not to throw her to the ground and take what he wanted.
Dagmar pulled the dress off her shoulders and off her body. It dropped to the ground, quickly followed by her shift. Hands on her hips, she stood there with her brow raised in silent challenge.
With a quick swirl of his forefinger, he motioned for her to remove the bit of material covering her sex.
Letting out an annoyed little grunt, she muttered, “Lazy,” under her breath before tugging at the ribbons on each hip until they split apart and she could add the cloth to the growing pile at her feet.
Although she stood before him completely nak*d while he was clothed, her stance was defiant, brave, and demanding. It aroused him more than he could have imagined.
Uncrossing his arms, Gwenvael gently removed the scarf covering her head and pulled her braid around to the front. Untying the ribbon at the end, he took his time unbraiding the silky mass. When done, Gwenvael combed his fingers through her hair until it hung loose and free to her hips.
Now that he had her as he wanted her, he cupped her br**sts, his thumbs toying with her n**ples. Her eyes closed, body trembling, while Gwenvael amused himself.
His c*ck pushed hard and heavy inside his leggings, and with every passing second it became harder and harder not to simply mount her and f**k them both into oblivion. But he needed her more ready than this.
Using gentle pressure, he pushed her back until her rear was pressed up against the boulder. He took her hands and kissed them. “I want to see what these small fingers of yours can do.”
She automatically reached for him, but he took firm hold of her hands and pushed them back against her body. “No. Show me on yourself.”
“You’re being lazy,” she teased.
“Desperate,” he replied. “Not sure I can get you ready before I take what’s mine.” Gripping her hips, he lifted her until she was spread out on the boulder.
“Lie back and show me,” he calmly ordered.
She didn’t move right away, her head leaning back a bit as her squinty gaze searched the darkness.
“Here,” he said softly, lifting her dominant hand with his own, “let me help you.” He sucked her middle finger into his mouth, his tongue slowly swirling around the tip. She moaned sounding in pain as her mind fought what her body wanted so badly. When she began to squirm, he released her finger and placed it against what was quickly becoming a very wet p**sy.
“Show me,” he whispered, and waited.
This was insanity. Out here in the open, nak*d except for her boots, with a dragon everyone knew to be an unrepentant slag. Not simply nak*d, though, but splayed open across a boulder with her hands between her legs.
Yet this had been the substance of her fantasies for years, fantasies, where everything was safe and hers without the involvement of anyone else. She used those fantasies to help her fall asleep at night after pleasuring herself once, maybe twice. And she’d had no intention of telling anyone about those fantasies. No husband or female friend because there had been no one she’d trust enough with that information. How could she? When she’d been forced more than once to use that kind of information to protect herself against someone else?
But what she kept coming back to, again and again, was that she hadn’t told the dragon anything. She hadn’t let him in on her secrets. True enough, he’d discovered her enjoyment of watching others, but there were few she knew of who wouldn’t stop and watch when stumbling across a coupling.
Yet Gwenvael the Handsome kept getting to the heart of her desires with little to no help from her. Was that where his reputation stemmed from? Was that why so many women came back to him again and again? Would she?
His fingers brushed across hers. Gentle, but insistent. Whisper soft, but demanding.
He understood so well the rudiments of taking control. Ropes and chains were merely one element. And although fun to talk about, it was not an element necessary at all times.
Unwilling to stop herself any longer, Dagmar began to stroke her sex with the tips of her fingers. Playing with herself as she’d want a man to. She took her time, allowing her body to heat up as her fingers slid deeper and deeper inside, writhing as she’d occasionally touch her clitoris. She didn’t rush anything but, instead, took her own sweet time making her body ache.
It seemed to work well as a strong grip took hold of her fingers and pushed the middle and forefinger inside her body.
“Fuck yourself,” he growled. She did, her h*ps rocking against her own hand, her own moans getting louder with each thrust.
She felt the dragon’s human hands press against the inside of her thighs, pushing her legs apart. And then his mouth was on her, his tongue taking up the teasing of her clitoris. She began to squirm harder, the intensity of it almost too much to bear. But his hands pinned her down against the boulder, holding her in place as he took his turn making her body ache.
Dagmar’s back arched as he did things with the tip of his tongue that had her crying out, her voice echoing in the dark clearing. She had no time to worry whether she may be alerting anyone to their presence as he sucked the small bundle of nerves between his lips and proceeded to roll it back and forth gently until her body jerked out its cli**x, her free hand pinning his head against her body, unwilling to release him until the last shudder had passed.
This was no quick release, however, made to simply unleash the tension in her body. As she began to settle down, his mouth readjusted, the flat of his tongue pushing and grinding against her clitoris again. Her back arched in response, her head thrown back as the air left her lungs in one surprised gasp. Almost immediately it started again—not the slow buildup, but right back into another cli**x. A stronger, more powerful one that, if he hadn’t been holding her down, would have rolled her right off the boulder onto the hard ground.
She didn’t know how long he had her pinned to that rock, laying one cli**x on top of another, on top of another. Each one new and different, crashing up against the one that had been fading until she begged him—weakly, her strength nearly gone—to stop.
“Once more,” he murmured, and she shook her head, her voice catching.
“I can’t.”
“You will. Once more.” Then he was inside her, his c*ck pushing past still-pulsating tissue, her body still shuddering from the last few cli**xes.
She had no idea when he took his clothes off, but nothing had ever felt more wicked or delicious than his nak*d body pressing into hers. His weight held her down as he roughly rocked into her, taking her, his arms braced on either side of her shoulders. His long hair fell around them, draping them like the finest silk while his groans worked into her system, taking her up again. And what she’d thought impossible happened once more. Her cli**x so brutally intense and harsh, her hands slapped against his sides, her fingers yanking down against the flesh. She felt skin tear under her nails, and his cry of pain led right into his gasp and moans of pleasure.
He came hard inside her, his body jerking against her during each release, her p**sy tightening around him over and over again, until she pulled the last bit of come from his balls.
Gwenvael dropped on top of her, his mind unable to care if she could breathe or not. At the moment, he simply couldn’t think straight … or at all. He had no idea how long he lay on top of her, but when he finally lifted himself off, she was asleep beneath him. Snoring.
Grinning, he shook her shoulder. “Oy!”
Her eyes snapped open. “That was not what I said!”
He laughed and said, “Stay awake, you lazy sow.”
She blinked, grey eyes able to focus on him since he was only mere inches from her face. “I’m tired,” she haughtily complained.
“Yes,” he said softly, a fingertip tracing along her cheek and jaw. “I guess you are.”
“But you’re not.”
“Not even a little.” He leaned down and kissed her, his tongue slowly tasting hers.
She moaned, her body automatically responding to him and his touch. But she pulled her mouth away, her head shaking.
“No. I can’t do that again. It was too much.”
“There’s no such thing.” He grabbed the hands pushing against his chest, feebly trying to shove him away. “And you will do it again,” he told her, pinning her hands against the boulder beneath them. “As many times as I want you to.”
He was still inside her and felt her p**sy pulse to life with the action of pinning her hands. It became warm again at his words.
Gods, she was delicious—the cunning, clever Lady Dagmar.
“And if I say no?” she asked softly, playing the shy virgin beautifully. “To protect my honor?”
He leaned into her, kissing her neck and then biting it until he heard her gasp, the walls of her p**sy clenching him so tightly he feared she’d snap his already-hard-again c*ck in two.
“When I’m done, you’ll have no honor. I’ll take what I want, Lady Dagmar,” he whispered against her ear, his grip tightening on her wrists. “And no matter how much you struggle or fight, I’ll keep taking what I want. Again. And again. And again.”