Crouching Tigress Horny Dragon (Fire Mates #3) (10 page)

She slammed into him, as he did to her. Tangled her fingers in his hair and captured his mouth with hers.

My Fire Mate. My life. My dragon…

Delirious rapture flooded through her as Ryan’s strong arms wrapped around her. His tongue battled with hers, as ravenous and savage as her own.

People hurried and shuffled past them. Some made suggestions Deanne didn’t hear. All she could hear was her heart beating with Ryan’s.

Ryan’s heart. His dragon’s heart. Beating as one with hers. In perfect rhythm with hers.

Hearts.

He moaned into her mouth as the thought filled her, his fingers raking down her back to cup her ass. “I knew you couldn’t deny it forever,” he declared against her lips, the rigid steel of his erection grinding against her belly. “I knew—”

She pulled away from him. Out of his arms. “Take me somewhere safe, Ryan,” she demanded, barely able to process the capacity for breath, let alone rational thought. “Please. I need to be somewhere…anywhere
not
here.”

Without question or hesitation, he took her hand and led her to a hotel half a block away.

The building he stood before when you saw him in your head, his face to the sky, his eyes closed, searching for you, his Fire Mate, his dragon…

A hot shiver rippled over her as he crossed to the elevators and hit the button for the 42nd floor.

He shot her a quick look.

Neither had said a word since her demand.

Deanne suspected it was because if either did, they wouldn’t be prepared for what would happen.

Ryan thought she was there to fuck him.

Deanne didn’t know
why
she was there. She just…she just…

The elevator door slid open with a soft ding.

An elderly couple joined them in the confined interior before the door could close.

She shrank away from them, studying them. Who were they? A threat? Could they—

The lurching sensation in her tummy told her the elevator had slowed to a halt. Ryan’s fingers—still threaded through hers—tightened a second before the doors opened.

“Enjoy your honeymoon,” the elderly gentleman said as Ryan led her out of the elevator.

Deanne frowned. Her heart hammered.

Heart. Human heart, Roe. Human.

“Thanks,” Ryan said, jovial warmth turning the word to a laugh. “We will.”

Deanne frowned deeper.

When had he and the old couple talked? During the ascent?

Honeymoon?

Her head roared. Her body moved of its own accord. Walking beside Ryan as he made his way to a closed door a few feet from the elevator.

He stopped.

“Here we are,” he said, facing the door even as he looked at her.

She met his gaze.

The drawing hunger inside her had resumed. Insane or not, she craved him. Needed him. Wanted him.

With a force
beyond
natural.

“What happened, Deanne?” Ryan frowned. “You didn’t just find me because of the mating fire. I can tell that. What’s happened since you put me in the hospital?”

…what do you remember of your mother…

…it was bound to happen eventually…

Mouth dry, she took the key card from his hand, inserted it into the lock, and then pushed the door open when the light turned green.

“Take me inside and make love to me,
draco
,” she whispered, handing back the key, her gaze locked on his.

So I can get you out of my fucking system and bring this lunacy to an end once and for all.

…can get you…

…fucking…

…lunacy…

T
he disjointed thoughts flickered through Ryan’s head, Deanne’s hunger and confusion ripe in each one.

He searched her eyes, fighting the urgent demand on his body to do exactly what she asked him to do. “Talk to me, Deanne.” He reached up and cupped her face in his palm. “What’s going—”

She closed her eyes and turned her lips to his hand, and he was lost.

Lost to the base and destined fire of their joining. Lost to everything she was and everything he knew they would be together.

With a growl that made the very air around them sizzle, he wrapped his arm around the small of her back and hauled her to his body, capturing her lips as he did so.

She groaned, the sound low and raw and greedy.

His cock flooded with steel.

Driving her backward into his room, he slammed her to the wall just inside the door.

A distant part of his brain recognized the heavy thud of the door closing, and then it was only Deanne and her lips and her body and her pleasure for which he existed.

Fisting his hands in the thick curtain of her hair, he plundered her mouth. She tasted like everything he knew and everything exquisite. Her tongue stroked against his, warm, both tentative and demanding at once.

He reveled in the whirlwind of emotions. And then lost himself to his desire and need as any hint of uncertainty vanished from Deanne’s kiss.

Dragging his lips from hers, he explored her chin and jawline with nibbling bites.

She moaned, the sound part appreciation, part delight.

His heart leapt a little faster. Each minute with her was a discovery of who she was, what she liked. It was exciting and exhilarating and addictive.

When she rolled her hips to press her pussy harder to his erection, his head swam. He could take her right now, drive into her, bury himself. But he controlled himself, wanting to learn more about her.

With measured nips, he made his way to her earlobe and caught it in his teeth.

A shiver rippled through her. “I like that,” she confessed, the words breathy.

Ryan chuckled against the side of her throat. “Do you now? What else do you like?”

“Grilled cheese,” she answered, rolling her hips again.

“Ever heard of Vegemite?” he asked, making his way back up to her earlobe. He nipped at it again, a little harder this time.

“Vile stuff,” she murmured in reply.

He gasped in mock indignation and pulled away from her just enough to find her stare with his.

“What’re your thoughts on sushi?” she asked, eyes dancing with open pleasure and mirth.

He shook his head. “Gross.”

She laughed.

He captured the delightful sound with a kiss.

A low whimper vibrated in her chest, feeding the fire within him.

How he wasn’t tearing her clothes off was beyond him. Perhaps because this playful getting-to-know each other was just as arousing?

Exploring the side of her throat once more, he smoothed one hand down her raised arm and then skimmed it over the swell of her breast. “Lacy bras?” he whispered as he nipped her collarbone through the material of her shirt. “Or practical cotton ones?”

“No bras at all.” She arched into his palm, as if to illustrate her claim via contact.

The beaded tip of her nipple rubbed at the center of his hand, sending a hot jolt of impatient lust through him. He groaned in response, and dragged his thumb over the straining point.

Deanne sucked in a shaky breath, and wrapped her thigh around his hip. “Boxers?” she asked, drawing his erection harder to her sex. “Or briefs?”

Ryan nipped his way back up to her jawline. “Tighty-whities.”

She pulled away from him, eyes wide. “Really?”

Ryan cocked an eyebrow.

“Hmm,” she murmured, drawing his groin closer to hers with her leg. “Could be sexy.”

He chuckled. “Could be.”

“Think I need a look though,” she whispered.

Ryan chuckled. And then let out a surprised yelp as Deanne took his legs out from beneath him with a single sweep and slammed him to the floor, straddling his hips before his breath finished leaving him.

“Holy fuck!” he burst out as she snared his wrists, jerked them together above his head and held them in one firm grip.

She threw a sly grin at him, and then proceeded to reach for his fly with her other hand.

Heart crazy, body thrumming, he hissed in an appreciative breath as she lowered his zipper, the action allowing his rigid cock to spring free.

Lips pouting, she glared at him. “Where are the tighty-whities?”

He opened his mouth to answer but hissed in another breath when she took his length in her hand.

Christ, he wasn’t going to last long if he wasn’t careful.

“Favorite movie?” he ground out, fighting to control the wave after wave of pleasure flooding him at her touch.

“Never seen one,” she replied, the words little more than a murmur as she lowered her attention to his groin, worming her way down his thighs as she did so.

“Not even
Star Wars
?” His head swam with fresh heat when she released his wrists and moved her hand to his chest, kneading and pumping his cock with her other hand at the same time.

“
Star
what?” she asked, drawing her head closer to his cock, a small smile playing with her lips.

Ryan watched those lips hover above his bulbous crown spilling out of her grip, his breath shallow.

If she took him in her mouth, he’d blow. “Favorite book?” he croaked.

“
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
.” Her breath fanned the flesh of his cock head with each word.

He tried to ask another question. Tried to focus not on the pleasure of her touch, but the reality of the moment. He was having a conversation—of sorts—with his Fire Mate. He was getting to know her. He was—

Deanne licked her tongue over the tip of his cock, teasing the tiny slit in its tip with equally tiny flicks.

Fucked. You’re fucked. You’re going to come and burst into blue fire while she’s giving you head and there’s nothing you can fucking do about it.

“Oh, I think there is,” Deanne chuckled, lifting her head from her teasing.

“What?” he rasped.

She launched herself off him, coming to land on the balls of her feet on the floor beside his left hip. Without a word, her eyes twinkling, she straightened and removed her jeans and shirt.

His eyes went to the crouching tiger tattoo inked into her side. It was exquisite, and suited her to perfection: a creature of sublime beauty, mystery, and animalistic passion.

It was ridiculous to even think about the word
love
, but he didn’t question it was in their future. There was a reason Fire Mates were destined for each other. It was rare the fated pairing failed.

“Tell me about the tiger,” he said, when she snared the waistband of his jeans and tugged them down over his hips.

He wriggled to allow his jeans to pass between his arse and the floor, watching her face. Her eyes were mesmerizing. There was a lifetime in them he ached to discover. A lifetime spent without him.

“Big cat,” she answered when she’d removed his jeans completely from his legs. The room’s cool air kissed his now bare legs and groin. His balls reacted to the temperature change for a miniscule moment. “Furry. Orange with black stripes.”

“Ahh, you’re a comedian,” he pointed out, rejoicing in her sense of humor. Life was too short to be serious, even when that life usually lasted centuries.

She glanced up at him, mischief in her smile. “I’m actually a Capricorn.”

He chuckled. “Well, in that case…”

He moved. Fast. Allowing his dragon’s preternatural speed to accelerate his own, he lunged from his back, caught her in his arms, and flattened her to the floor beneath him once again.

She cried out in delight, scratching at his back as he drove a hand between their bodies to finger her clit.

“Oh yeah,” she moaned, arching into his touch.

Ryan sucked in a steadying breath, his cock nudging her folds. She was already wet with pleasure. One stroke, one thrust and he would be inside her.

Here on the hotel suite floor. There’s no doubt you’ll both ignite with rapture when you come. Are the carpets flame proof? Do the flames of the mating fire even burn stuff like carpets? Will your travel insurance pay for fire damage? Will the flames set off the fire sprinklers?

The surreal thoughts whirled through his head like a cyclone, battering him with a rationality he had little grip on.

None of the questions mattered. They would learn the answers and live through them. He couldn’t hold off any longer. He needed to be inside her.

Ryan…control…you’re losing…

A hitching whimper vibrated in her throat. “Ryan…I…”

He drew his head away from hers a little. Found that dark haunted light in her eyes again. “What’s wrong?”

Her eyelids fluttered closed. She caught her bottom lip with her teeth.

“Deanne?” He brushed the back of his knuckles over her cheek. “Talk to me.”

She opened her eyes and look at him. “What am I, Ryan?”

Her question drew a low chuckle from him. “My Fire Mate.”

She shook her head. “Tell me what I am.”

He trailed his knuckles over her cheek again. “A dragon.
My
dragon.”

A soft noise fell from her and she rolled her hips, nudging the crown of his erection with her folds. “Make love to me,
draco
.” She repeated her earlier plea. “Make me burn.”

Heart wild, breath ragged, Ryan penetrated her with a slow, fluid stroke.

“Oh yes.” Her cry echoed around the hotel room. “This…this…”

He didn’t listen. He couldn’t. His head was roaring with his dragon’s need. White-hot heat licked over him, through him. He thrust into her, hauling her bent leg higher against his hip with one hand, tangling the other in her hair.

Flesh burning, body the same, he drove into her, his groans that of a dragon, not a man. The hotel vibrated with the powerful sound.

He didn’t care. Let the world hear him. Let the world see him. As long as he was inside her…inside her…

“My tigress,” he growled, the name like lava on his tongue. “My dragon.”

“Oh God.” She writhed beneath him, her stare locked on his eyes. Something dark and haunted flashed across her face, but Ryan was too overwhelmed with pleasure, with desire to comprehend it. They were together, as they were meant to be.

They were born for each other. Destined for each other.

Scalding lashes of heat flayed his body. He smoothed his hand over her hip, under it, hauling her harder to his penetrations.