Page 57 of Hoarded By the Dragon

Ben appears next to the table with a crack of static, and we both jolt in surprise.

“No time—”

He’s cut off by Stella who shoots from her seat. “Angry dragon!”

I turn and stand, toppling my chair. Kalos doesn’t pause in the doorway. He looks different enough that there should be a beat before I recognize him, but there isn’t. His body is still human for the most part, but he seems bulkier. Black scales edge his face and meet into horns on either side of his head. Smoke billows from his nostrils, and his eyes glow in fury. His hands are much less human-appearing, talons curving and long.

Ben starts trying to talk reason. “We don’t know for sure that she’s in league with them, Kalos. Calm yourself.”

“What’s going on?” I ask.

Kalos growls, stepping forward, his eyes on my best friend. “She’s a Leonid!”

“A what?” I ask, stumbling in between them. My heart races with adrenaline.

“I’m not!” Stella says, annoyed.

“Enemy.” Kalos’s voice is gravelly and inhuman. He surges forward, and I push both hands into his chest. He’s almost too hot to touch, but the heat dissipates immediately. I gasp at the rush of sensation through my body as our child devours the heat pouring from him.

I don’t know what Kalos is raging about, but he’s past the point of listening.

“Ben, get her out of here,” I say and am surprised when he follows my instructions without hesitation. Stella’s squeak cuts off as she’s teleported away.

Kalos roars, and my heart quakes even as I absorb another wave of heat. This one ripples with searing intention, and I bite my lip to keep from moaning. I’m left standing in front of an enraged dragon man. His burning eyes, completely black except for the gold of his irises, drop to me, the reason his prey is gone.

Running isn’t an option, neither is talking. I do what I do best: pivot.

“Kalos,” I whisper. I press my body against his, and there’s a flicker in whatever primal instinct sent him stomping in here.

“You will not put yourself in danger,” he hisses, clutching my arms.

Danger?Belying his words, another wave of heat has my hair standing on end.

Fuck me, I didn’t think that this much energy would feel like the precursor to orgasm. If I wasn’t pregnant with his child, would this burn me to a crisp instead of sending wave after wave of cinnamon heat to curl my toes and dance over my skin?

“I need you.” The words from my lips are soft, unthinking. I need the heat and anger and hunger. I need his strength. I want to devour him. A laughable idea, but neither of us are laughing.

He snarls but pulls me in tight. His mouth drops open and hot over mine, and I groan at the contact and taste. The kiss is a vicious thing, the scrape of his fangs almost painful, but I don’t care. My ass hits the table behind me, but Kalos keeps bearing down on me.

My thighs wrap around his narrow hips, the press of him between my legs has me moaning. Kalos crowds me until I’m flat against the table. As if to keep me from going anywhere.

Dishes crash to the floor. I’m sure my back is covered with cookie crumbs now, but I don’t care. All I care about is the feel of his body against mine. My fingers slide through his hair and grip. The brush of my palms against smooth scales is delicious and adds to the sparks of sensation at my core.

The kiss slows, and Kalos pulls back.

I pant, trying to use my grip on his hair to bring him back to me. I want to rip off his clothing and finally give in to this heat. “Kalos.”

“Shhh.”

I whimper in need. My dragon is returning to his senses, but he’s started my body burning, and I can’t stop now. Every moment he’s held me close, every time I’ve ignored the way his presence makes me burn, is rising to the surface, threatening to devour me.

He doesn’t abandon me.

He moves his hips against mine. The noxious smell of smoke dissipates as the ribbed cock that’s imprinted on my memory grinds against my leggings-covered pussy. My head falls back, and I moan.

“That’s it, little queen, feel how hard I am for you. Take your pleasure.” Kalos’s voice is deep, inhuman in the way it was when he’d first burst into the kitchen.

I gasp and rock my hips against the solid thickness of him until the pressure coiling in my core gets tighter and tighter. I dig the nails of one hand into his torn suit jacket, and Kalos shifts his hips in a new way that has me unraveling.

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