Page 8 of Kiss of Frost

My nipples stiffened against the lace.

“Happy to see me,” Callum said, then he yanked both cups down and latched his mouth onto one of my nipples.

Fire. It crackled in a frazzled path from my nipple to my clit. He sucked hard, every draw of his mouth pulling that path into a tighter line. His fingers found my other nipple, and he pinched hard, wrenching a squeal from me. He worked me in tandem, flicking his tongue around one nipple while he fingered and pinched the other. He slurped and sucked, the wet sounds of his attention accompanied by the low rumble of his satisfied-sounding growls. After a moment, he moved his mouth to my other nipple and proceeded to drive me wild.

“Yes!” I dug my teeth into my bottom lip so I wouldn’t scream. He hadn’t lied. His tongue was very skilled. He went at me like a man possessed. At the same time, I sensed he was completely in control of himself. And once again, the balance left me a little dizzy—and maddeningly aroused.

He rocked his hips against mine, rubbing his hard length up and down the place that throbbed for him. My heartbeat pounded there—a hard, pulsing rhythm that drove my need higher.

“More,” I gasped, tangling my hands in his hair and yanking hard

He released my nipple with a pop and lifted his head. One dark blond eyebrow shot upward as his lips curved. “And how old are you?”

The unexpected question startled me into answering. “Fifty-seven.”

The humor in his eyes melted into something dark and deliciously wicked. He lowered his chin, his heated gaze landing on my bare breasts, which trembled as I struggled to control my runaway breathing. My nipples stood up wantonly, the peaks a lurid pink from his fingers and mouth.

Meeting my eyes once more, he slid a hand down my body to the juncture of my thighs. He cupped my pussy through my pants, his long fingers resting over my opening. He pressed, pushing my sodden panties into my aching center and pulling a grunt from me. “Old enough to have taken lovers.”

Abruptly, my lust cooled. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all, lassie.” He rose to his knees and pulled his shirt over his head. He tossed it aside, and I almost swallowed my tongue at the sight of his muscular chest and washboard abs. Lines of scrolling text were tattooed around his ribs. Before I could get a good look, his body turned to black smoke.

I shot upright, my heart pounding. Dragon. How could I have forgotten? The smoke circled me, ruffling my hair on a current that brimmed with playfulness. The haze returned to the carpet in front of me and reformed into a solid—and very nude—Callum.

My mouth went dry at the sight of his dick, which lay thick and hard between his powerful thighs. Moisture beaded at the slit, and prominent veins ran up the length of his meaty shaft. The heavy balls nestled underneath were as smooth and hairless as the skin around the base of his cock, and my cheeks heated as I recalled learning that particular fact about the dragons. I’d been thirteen when my friend Mariah of House Crane sneaked a book about dragon lore with very detailed illustrations into my room. Giggling and blushing, we’d pored over the forbidden pages by flashlight.

“You better hope you never cross paths with one of the dragon lairds,” Mariah had said.

“Why?” I’d breathed, an unsettled feeling gripping me as I studied the drawings of nude men shifting from beast to smoke and back again.

Mariah had shot me a startled look. “You mean you don’t know? The dragons lock up their females. If a dragon pair thinks you’re theirs, they won’t ask if you feel the same. They’ll just take you, Georgie, and they’ll never let you go.”

Mariah’s warning echoed in my head now as Callum stared me down. He hadn’t taken me…had he?

“You can’t keep me here,” I blurted, fighting the urge to scoot backward. In the corner of my mind, I was aware my declaration would have been more effective without my bra bunched under my breasts and my nipples damp from his mouth. “I’m not a prisoner.”

“That’s true,” Callum said. Gaze never leaving mine, he gripped his cock and began to stroke. “But it’s hard to be a prisoner when you don’t want to leave, eh, lass?”

“You don’t know that,” I huffed. As soon as the words left my lips, I realized my mistake. If Callum knew my desires, he knew I was so hot for him I was in danger of melting.

In another blur of movement, he stood, bent, and scooped me into his arms.

I clutched at his shoulders—and resisted the urge to dig my fingers into the hard muscle. “What are you doing?”

“You keep asking that, lassie, and I keep telling you.” He winked as he carried me to the bed and placed me in the center. “I’m giving you everything you want.” He pushed me onto my back and yanked my boots off. As I sputtered, he thumbed my fly open, unzipped my pants, and dragged them down my thighs. All of this happened shockingly fast, leaving me nude except for my sodden panties.

It would be so hot if he ripped them off. The thought entered my head as clear and bright as a beacon.

Callum looked up, his nostrils flaring. His voice went so low it rumbled the bed beneath me. “As I said, you’re a naughty lass, Georgie Blackwood.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Do you know everything I’m thinking?”

“No, just your desires. And I approve of every single one.” He ripped my panties away in a flash of movement, baring me fully. The air stirred, and ghostly horns flickered around his head. He stared at my pussy, the look in his eyes so hot it seared my skin. He climbed onto the bed, his thick cock bobbing, and pushed my thighs wide. Cool air teased my heated center, which ached to the point of pain.

“We shouldn’t,” I said, the protest pitifully weak in my ears.

“Why not?” he countered, running a fingertip down the seam of my pussy. He sucked his finger into his mouth, and his eyes went heavy-lidded. “Mmm, lassie, you taste perfect.” He rubbed my clit, sending a bolt of raw pleasure through me and making me cry out. “That’s it,” he said, trailing his finger down and stirring it around my opening. “Make more of this honey for me. Legs wider, lass, I want to see my pussy.”