Page 45 of Consorting with Dragons

“We have so little time together and this is how you want to spend the few hours we have? By shouting and calling me names? You’re so stupid!”

Okay, so maybe I’d started the name-calling, but he’d just as good as called me a whore. It had made me furious.

He’d just dismissed the idea of me coming to stay with him out of hand. Why would he deliberately choose for us to be apart when I could be with him? Did he really dislike me deep down? Did I get on his nerves? It was infuriating, and I felt as if my head were about to explode. I just gaped at him for a moment or two though, because I thought it was better than what I wanted to do to him.

“You’re not my father. It’s not your place to teach me morality.”

“Somebody needs to, and it seems like it has to be me.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

His face turned red, and he clenched his fists by his side.

“Do you want to hit me now? Go ahead. I dare you.”

“Stop acting like a damn child. We’ve had this discussion about the camp so many times,” he said, his face stern and cold. “Did you really think that getting your grandfather to tell me to let you come to camp would work? I don’t need his input, Rylan, and I don’t need yours, for that matter. I make my own decisions, and I resent you putting me in an awkward position last evening.”

“Once again, fuck you!”

His face flamed and he looked shocked and angry, but my temper was always ready, willing and able to come to my aid at a moment’s notice. I jumped out of bed, naked, because I’d been waiting like an idiot for him to come to bed the night before. I saw him react to that, and his face get even redder. He probably thought even that was a deliberate ploy on my part. I snatched up some clothes from a chair next to my bed and stormed into the bathroom to get dressed, slamming the door behind me and locking it for good measure. But he was right behind me.

“Rylan, get out here!” he yelled, pounding on the door. “We need to talk about this!”

“Go to hell!”

“Rylan, open this damn door.”

“Why? You’ve made up your mind about how things are, and that’s unlikely to change. If you need distance from me so much, then take it! Go and never come back! Or maybe I should. Either way, I don’t care!”

“I’m not going anywhere until we talk about this. Stop being such a child and get out here and face me.”

“You should know what my answer is by now!’ Just leave, damn it. Go on! Get out! And I won’t be here when you get back!”

If I’d ever thought that would work, I was sadly mistaken. I heard his heavy boot slam against the door once and then twice, and the door suddenly sprang open. He charged in, hauled me into his arms and kissed me like he owned me, which in both our minds, I guess he did.

“You’remine,” he growled at me. “Don’t ever lock yourself away from me again, damn it!”

He threw the clothes I was holding in my hand violently across the room, swept me up in his arms and carried me into the bedroom to throw me down on my back in the bed. He stood there over me for a long moment, his chest heaving with emotion, and I could clearly see what he wanted to do to me. But this had nothing to do with love. It was pure, furious possession. I think he knew he was way too out of control, and he was trying desperately to rein himself in before he touched me.

Well, fuck that too, because I wanted him as much as he wanted me, and I was just as angry as he was. I was also craving his body. Besides, I knew he would never hurt me. But just like him, I was too stubborn and too mad to make up, so I deliberately taunted him by putting my hand on my typpid and stroking it lazily up and down, staring into his eyes the whole time.

“What’s the matter, Quinn? You want some of this?”

His eyebrows shot up, and I could see it enraged him for me to say such things and taunt him this way. No doubt it slightly scandalized him too, because one thing I’d learned was that the Horvathians were prudish and rigid as hell, especially when it came to their sense of “propriety” or what was appropriate behavior and what was definitely not.

He reached for me and flipped me over onto my stomach, because I guess he couldn’t stand to keep looking at me stroking myself. I began calling him names over my shoulder, because I was so angry and he clapped a hand over my mouth, so I lickedhis palm and looked back up into his eyes as I did it. That’s when he seemed to lose his mind.

I was never afraid of him. He was about to make love to me, because lust and the mating urge had overtaken him, but it would be making love and nothing more, because for one thing, I was more than willing for him to do whatever he wanted to do. I was a man, and I wanted him as much as he wanted me. Whatever he was feeling, I was feeling it too. It began coming over me in waves, a strong desire to have him inside me and thrusting against me. He was the only man I’d ever made love to, and we had “practiced” often in the weeks since we got married. I craved him now like a drug.

My typpid was hard as a rock between my legs. I was leaving little wet trails on the sheets as he pushed and pulled me where he wanted, arranging me on the bed. He was ripping off his clothes too, and throwing them down, and I tried to turn over to watch him, but he wouldn’t let me. He tossed me back over again and climbed on top of me, intending to carefully prepare me with his fingers, because he’d never hurt me in any way. But I wasn’t having it. I shoved my hips backward to impale myself on his large member and he gasped and cried out at the heat and the passion I was showing him.

I was thrusting up my hips as best I could, when he rammed himself in me, half-growling, half-groaning, like he was in real pain. He kept trying to pull my hands down, trying to come back to himself, but I reached back to caress his hip and dug in my fingernails instead, urging him on, wanting to hurt him physically, like he’d hurt me emotionally.

He jerked my hand away and began to rock his body against mine, thrusting hard inside me and not holding back. I moved with him and against him so that he couldn’t thrust the way he wanted to. He was breathing hard and began holding me down and moving faster, losing any control he might have had.I turned my head and licked his ear and bit down hard on his earlobe, urging him on. If he’d been trying to teach me some lesson, then it was me who was teaching him now. If I was his, then he was mine too, body and soul. It was time he acknowledged it. He could no more do without me than I could do without him.

He hadn’t come, but it wasn’t for lack of trying on my part. He was slick with pre-come and I knew he had to be close. He began to taste the skin on the back of my neck with little nibbles and licks and sucked up a mark. I encouraged everything he did with loud groans and sounds of passion.

He turned me over and I reached up and grabbed him around the neck, pulling him down to kiss me so hard neither of us could breathe. I saw little flashes like shooting stars in my head as he positioned himself again and thrust hard into me. I writhed under him, making those noises that I knew would embarrass me later when I remembered them.

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