Page 27 of Fated to the Dragon Warlord

“What’s a rut?” I gasp as he lets me up for air.

“It is my body craving yours,” Darax rasps. “If you are not keen on these garments, I will remove them for you,” he adds.

“Oh no.” I pull away, and he’s left looking confused. “I’ve not had clean clothes in weeks. These do not get ruined.”

A wicked, wicked look crosses his handsome face. Those fiery eyes fill with mischief.

“You think I would ruin them?” He stalks the two paces to me. I back up, but I hit the wall. Again.

“When I see what you’re toting, I believe you would, yes,” I say, knowing there’s nowhere to go.

No escape from this huge Sarkarnii, whom I have seen turn into a dragon, who smokes like he has a forty-a-day habit, and who makes me ruin my first pair of clean knickers in what feels like a decade.

Darax makes me hopelessly wet. He’s a column of muscular masculinity who exudes sex appeal and a spicy, smokey scent sending me weak at the knees.

“You mean my claws?” Darax says, planting one huge clawed hand next to my head, easily extending the appendages until there are great scimitars of obsidian inches from my face.

With the other, he takes a lock of hair, slowly stroking it before lifting it to his nose and inhaling deeply. His hips twitch involuntarily, and I release a short, sharp breath.

“I think you’ll find I can be gentle, should I want to be,” he rumbles. “Even with what I’mtoting.”

A delicious shiver runs up my spine. His soft lips are so close, without even thinking, I press my mouth to them, sliding in my tongue. Darax closes his eyes with a low hum of pleasure, sinking into the kiss, his knees sagging as I run my hand around his waistband.

“You first,” I say against his lips.

I hadn’t realized it was possible to get out of a pair of pants as fast as Darax does.

If I was expecting not to see anything, like I have every other time I’ve seen him ‘naked’, I am wrong.

A cock at least the width of my wrist juts up at me. It’s studded in nodes running in long lines up its length to the tip, which has a strange shape I can’t quite make out. It drips with pre-cum, the pale, glittering substance falling to the floor in a steady stream.

“You make my cock unpouch, little snack.” Darax runs his hand up the length.

Even in his huge paw, the thing still looks massive.

“I…” I can’t take my eyes off it. “I don’t think you’re going to fit.”

I bet every man ever has wanted to hear those words. But instead of preening about it, Darax looks down at his cock.

“My sweet female, your pleasure is my command, and I will ensure you enjoy every aspect of me, including my cock,” he says, lifting his fingers to my mouth, sliding in one which is covered in his cum. Somehow, someway, I don’t resist.

It tastes sweet, salty, and not at all unpleasant. As it hits my tongue, it tingles, and my body heats up. I feel a flood between my legs.

“Darax?”

“My entire body is made to pleasure a female, including my cum,” he rumbles. “It is designed to make sure your body can accept mine easily.”

I groan and press myself against him as whatever it is in his cum flows through my body. Pushing at my pants, kicking off my boots, shucking off my top until I’m only in my underwear, or at least the closest to a bra we could get with the machine.

It’s Darax’s turn to groan as his fingers trip over my skin, down to the waistband of my knickers, sliding further down until, with a snap, they are gone. I am bare for him.

“You have fur,” he murmurs against my cheek. His finger slides lower.

“A little.”

“And you are hot.” Darax pushes the digit between my thighs. I arch my back as he slips easily over my clit. “And wet.” His voice is tight.

I look up at him. His jaw is clenched, a muscle ticking.

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