Kiss of a Dragon King
by Amy Pennza
The only way to save Cormac is to find our female—the woman destined to come between us in the best way possible. At long last, I’ve scented her. And there must be some mistake, because the female I’ve found shouldn’t exist. She’s gorgeous and willful and she smells like fire. She smells like…a dragon.
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But the king preferred them, which meant every man at court preferred them too—whether he liked it or not.
The room I sought loomed ahead, and I quickly ducked inside the gilt-trimmed door and tossed my hat on the bed. Seconds later, the door swung open and Cormac breezed inside. He was resplendent in gold silk, but I barely got a look at him before I was shoved against a wall with my arms pinned over my head. Seven feet of aroused male bore down on me.
“Nice to see you too,” I huffed. It was a bad idea to do this during the day. The palace was overflowing with courtiers.
Cormac kissed me roughly, making me arch off the wall, before moving his lips to my neck. Against my skin, he said, “Don’t pretend you aren’t just as desperate as I am. It’s been days.”
I laughed softly…and then groaned as he palmed me through my breeches. “It’s hard to get you alone in this place. I hate it here.”
“As do I, but the king is receptive to our cause.” He sucked at my skin hard enough to leave a mark. “He’s agreed to threaten the witches with an Inquisition if they keep hunting our females.”
“You trust this human?” I didn’t find the Sun King particularly trustworthy, but I’d only glimpsed him from afar. Cormac had spent hours with him, discussing how peace among the immortals guaranteed peace for the mortal world.
“I trust no one,” Cormac rumbled in my ear. He pulled back and began stripping off my clothes. He tossed me a mischievous smile laced with plenty of heat. “Except you.”
Ah, now there was a phrase guaranteed to set me on fire. It was one of his favorites.
Lust swept me, and I began shoving at his coat. “Take this off. I want you.”
“You’ll get me.” He shrugged out of his coat and waistcoat, flinging them to the floor like they were rags instead of priceless silk. In a few seconds, we were both naked and tangled up in each other against the wall. He kissed me again, his tongue stroking deep. His hand found my dick and stroked that, too, making me moan into his mouth. My hips jerked, all my blood rushing south.
“Wet already,” he teased, smiling against my lips. He rested his forehead against mine as he touched me. “Always so wet for me, Niall.”
“I don’t think”—my breath hitched as he stroked faster—“you should complain when you’re the one who benefits.”