Page 45 of Dragon’s Ending

I expected him to waste no time heading for my cock—I hoped at least—but instead, he seemed intent on familiarising himself with all of me. Lips moving along my jawline, soft and then nipping gently, his stubble prickling slightly. My neck, where he spent so fucking long that my hands ended up wrapped in his hair, and I was bloody well squirming. Then my shoulders. Whoever the fuck said shoulders weren’t an erogenous zone hadn’t met Dominic.

As his mouth trailed over my collarbone, he spread his fingers over my right pec. His palm grazed my nipple and I sucked in an unsteady breath.

He made an approving sound, then raised up to look at me properly, eyes hungry as they roamed over me. And it slammed into me—he hadn’t been taking his time just to tease me. He’d been taking his time because he was enjoying it. Enjoying learning my body.

“I cannot believe you hide all this under historian clothes,” he said, and pinched my right nipple. “It’s a fucking crime, Ben.”

“Fuck,” was my coherent response, because he’d lowered his head again and was sucking my nipple. Then he bit it. I pushed up, needing him to touch my cock but also needing him to keep doing that, flicking his tongue against me.

“Dominic.” It came out in a breathy kind of groan, and I felt his smile against my skin.

He was moving to his own timetable, which was about fifty times slower than mine right now. He pressed a kiss above my heart, and for one strange instant, all that frantic wanting eased just enough for me to feel the odd thing my heart was doing. But then he moved to my left nipple, and I wound my hands tighter in his hair as he bit me gently.

He worked his way lower, before raising his head, watching me as he ran his finger up my cock and smoothed it over the head. “You’re already wet,” he said, and licked his finger, eyes locked to mine.

I shuddered as he wrapped his hand around me, and flicked his tongue into my slit. My hands were so tight in his hair I was sure I was about to pull out handfuls, but this was—oh, God, he was sliding his mouth down on my cock, but so slowly I was almost crying.

“Please,” I begged.

His gaze flicked up to mine from beneath his lashes.

“Dominic—Oh.”

He’d taken me in so deep that everything around me was tight and wet, and I sobbed as I pushed into it, into him.

Dominic’s hair pulled taut between my fingers, too tight, and I tried to loosen my grip, but then his hand squeezed my thigh, strong fingers digging in. Maybe it’d been there all along—I didn’t remember. I think I whimpered. And then he swallowed around me. Heat and pressure and him.

I was shaking, sounds escaping my throat as I writhed under him, pleasure building inside me until it was going to tear me apart. But I wanted it to.

“Dom—”

The rest of his name came out as a broken cry.

DOMINIC

I rolled onto my side, feeling absurdly triumphant at the way Ben had come apart for me. He was completely still, other than his heaving chest.

Then I saw he’d flung his arm over his face, and my stomach dropped sickeningly.

“Ben?” I moved up to lie beside him. I didn’t try to shift his arm, no matter how badly I wanted to see what was going on with him, but I pressed a little kiss on his shoulder. “Say something.” Please.

He lifted his arm away and turned his head to look at me, eyes hazy and stunned. It seemed to take him a moment to see me properly.

“Think you sucked all the words out of me,” he said finally, and I laughed. Because he was okay.

“You say the sweetest things,” I told him.

His mouth twitched. Then his hand slid slowly down my stomach, eyes following the movement.

“Ben,” I said helplessly.

“Mmm?” he asked innocently, already moving lower in the bed.

He licked the head of my cock, and God, it was good. Except, then he got distracted.

“Your thighs,” he said reverently, running his hands over them, tracing little lines up my inner thighs that made me squirm before he pressed his mouth to the sensitive skin there. Which, yeah, God yes, no one had ever done that to me before, but still. Priorities.

“I’m going to petition the Society of Historians to make it illegal for you to sit on the table beside anyone who’s working,” he informed me, lifting his head to look at me. “God only knows how I kept from molesting you.”