Page 52 of Kenna's Dragon

“No,” I sass, leaning up to catch his bottom lip between my teeth.

With a firm, urgent grip on my wrist, he pulls my hand away before roughly shoving his boxers off. As he does, I take a half-step back to get a better look at him and… holy hell. All broad shoulders, firm muscles, and acres of taut skin dusted with dark, springy hair. As I watch, another tremor runs through him. All those muscles bunch and twitch in anticipation of what’s coming next.

An answering shot of arousal floods my core with heat.

“You might want to stand back for this.”

I shake my head and reach up, flattening my hands on the broad expanse of his chest. “No, I don’t think I do.”

I want to feel him. The power of him. The magick of him. The fire burning beneath his skin.

With a ripple of muscle and skin, Blair changes right before my eyes. Scales materialize on his chest and shoulders and lower, curving along his sides and toward the center of his hips. Two enormous, deep gold wings spread from the center of his back with a sharp snap as they expand to their full, impressive span. His features grow sharper, eyes glow an even more vivid gold, and when I dare to glance down at where all those scales around his hips coalesce, I can’t help the sharp breath I inhale.

The toy I bought wasn’t all that far off the mark.

Blair’s cock is thickest at the base, where his golden scales fade into deep, dusky pink skin. Long and thick, the length of him narrows as it reaches the tapered head, which flares slightly. He’s already impossibly hard, cock jutting out and away from his body, but when I reach for him, he catches my wrist in his grasp.

I slide my eyes slowly back up to meet his gaze, taking my time to study every hard ridge of muscle.

Blair could have been sculpted out of marble with how perfect his body is. It’s true even when he’s in his human form, but like this, all that power is on even more prominent display.

“You’re wearing too many clothes, ember.”

“Nope,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “Not when you look like that, and not when the lights are still on. I’m absolutely not—”

Blair pulls me to him, silencing my protest with another burning kiss. My hands trace the scales on his shoulders, his biceps, and they’re soft and smooth beneath my fingers, hotter than his human skin and rippling with every shift of corded muscle.

He pulls back from the kiss and looks down at me with wicked amusement dancing in his eyes.

“I was born in the 1500s. The Renaissance. And do you know what our ideal of beauty was back then?”

Before I can respond, he walks me backward a few steps, then turns me in his arms so we’re both looking into his full-length mirror.

“Bountiful bodies,” he murmurs, playing with the hem of my tank top. “Luscious, delicious curves.”

He meets my eyes in the mirror, and when I don’t say anything or stop him, he lifts the shirt up. The way the silky material skims along my over-sensitive skin, and the unbroken hold his golden eyes have on mine makes me shiver with pleasure as I watch him undress me.

“You’re perfect, ember,” he says as he pulls it over my head and tosses it aside.

His hands land on the clasp of my bra next, opening it with deft fingers and gently pulling it off me. With my breasts out for his appraisal, he makes a low, approving sound in the back of his throat before finally breaking eye contact to watch himself reach up and take them in his hands.

“Gods, Kenna. You truly don’t know how exquisite you are?”

When he says it like that… maybe I do.

With the way he caresses me—his long, elegant fingers taking my nipples and teasing them, rolling them into stiff, flushed peaks—I feel every bit as exquisite as he says I am. I arch into his touch, and he leans down to brush his fangs over my shoulder, dragging them lightly over my skin.

With one hand still at my breasts, he slowly slides the zipper on the back of my skirt down with the other. I make it easy for him this time, shimmying a little until it pools at my feet and then kicking it aside.

“Kenna,” Blair groans.

I look up to see his eyes fixed on the lace underwear I’m wearing, and on the thigh-high stockings I put on this morning. The ones a tiny, naughty part of me hoped he would have the chance to see.

He wraps one arm around my waist, hand splaying over the soft curve of my stomach, and pulls me back a few inches so the entire length of my body presses against him. The hard ridge of his cock juts into my lower back and the heat of him seeps all the way through me.

My eyes drop to the big hand resting on my midriff, and Blair follows my gaze.

“Do you believe me, ember? Do you believe how unimaginably beautiful I find you?”

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