stroked, not that he needed either to be
fully erect again by the time she finally tugged the zipper upward.
Rather than pull her onto his lap as he’d
intended, he pulled her across it to deliver an open-handed spanking, darkening
her buttocks with the punishment he administered as she writhed and lifted her
ass for more discipline.
When the skin was hot to the touch, he
turned her, loving the way she immediately curled to snuggle, her weight
consolidated so she’d feel the effects of the punishment he’d administered with
each heartbeat, each movement.
For a shimmering instant, her trusting
gesture made him feel as if his world had been made perfect. A heartbeat of
time that dissipated in a rush when he bent his head, intending to nuzzle her,
to tell her how much she pleased him—but instead caught her quick glance toward
the play area, her hasty search for the blond human named Miles.
Dragon fire poured into Jubal’s bloodstream
like lava. It burned away contentment and left him fighting not to exhale fire.
He clenched his fists against the overwhelming urge to flex his wrists so the
spurs would pierce the material of his shirt sleeves in a precursor to being
raked across his mate’s body.
By the Great Shared Ancestor, he’d had
enough of this! Treasure be damned and tolerance too! Ensconced in his lair,
she’d learn to trust him soon enough. She’d—
He forced himself to calm.
His mate was on his lap. Soft. Content.
A hand signal brought a male server over
for his order. Minutes later that staff member returned with a small plate of
mixed fruit.
Jubal rubbed his cheek against her hair.
“What do you do with your days?”
The question brought no tightening of her
body, no evasiveness in her manner when she answered, “I’m a bartender.”
Perhaps he would arrange for her to work at
Drake’s Lair if she’d prefer it to gambling, so he could keep her close on
those nights he played cards there. “And for pleasure?”
“I surf. What about you?”
Her desire to know him better, outside of
the sexual, was like having tendrils of smoke from a hearth fire curl through
his chest.
“I own a fleet of commercial boats. Outside
of managing them, I have a variety of interests. Poker is one of them. I play
at Drake’s Lair? You’ve heard of it?”
“Who hasn’t?” But she made no mention of
her sister’s invitation.
Should he admit to having met Lyra there?
Dragon pride kept him from it.
“Diving and exploring old wrecks is another
of my interests.”
She shivered. “I’ve sworn off diving.”
He cupped her face, used the touch in a
silent demand for her to meet his gaze. “You would have no reason to fear if
you were in the water with me. I protect what belongs to me.”
He leaned down, mouth covering hers, tongue
pressing between parted lips, good intentions escalating to carnal with the
first taste of himself on her. Gentle persuasion sank beneath waves of demand,
that she trust him completely and give herself into his care.
She intoxicated him even as she drove him
mad with the subtle shifting and grind of her buttocks against his cock, each
of her movements a challenge to his control. She grew bolder, as he’d come to
expect, hand going to the front of his shirt, stroking a pebbled nipple and
sending a flash of heat to a cock about to throw off the cage of magic and tear
through the front of his trousers to get to her.
“No,” he said, punishing them both with the
lift of his mouth from hers. Wanting nothing more than to stand with her in his
arms and take her to his car.
Her resistance—until the reason for her
arrival at Chains had been dealt with—was a given. An aggravation he intended
to put behind him. Now.
“I take care of what belongs to me,” he
said, selecting a pear slice and holding it to Summer’s lips. “I guard what is
mine.”
She took his offering, his heart swelling
with the act of tending to her. The need it fulfilled in him driving back the
intense
fully erect again by the time she finally tugged the zipper upward.
Rather than pull her onto his lap as he’d
intended, he pulled her across it to deliver an open-handed spanking, darkening
her buttocks with the punishment he administered as she writhed and lifted her
ass for more discipline.
When the skin was hot to the touch, he
turned her, loving the way she immediately curled to snuggle, her weight
consolidated so she’d feel the effects of the punishment he’d administered with
each heartbeat, each movement.
For a shimmering instant, her trusting
gesture made him feel as if his world had been made perfect. A heartbeat of
time that dissipated in a rush when he bent his head, intending to nuzzle her,
to tell her how much she pleased him—but instead caught her quick glance toward
the play area, her hasty search for the blond human named Miles.
Dragon fire poured into Jubal’s bloodstream
like lava. It burned away contentment and left him fighting not to exhale fire.
He clenched his fists against the overwhelming urge to flex his wrists so the
spurs would pierce the material of his shirt sleeves in a precursor to being
raked across his mate’s body.
By the Great Shared Ancestor, he’d had
enough of this! Treasure be damned and tolerance too! Ensconced in his lair,
she’d learn to trust him soon enough. She’d—
He forced himself to calm.
His mate was on his lap. Soft. Content.
A hand signal brought a male server over
for his order. Minutes later that staff member returned with a small plate of
mixed fruit.
Jubal rubbed his cheek against her hair.
“What do you do with your days?”
The question brought no tightening of her
body, no evasiveness in her manner when she answered, “I’m a bartender.”
Perhaps he would arrange for her to work at
Drake’s Lair if she’d prefer it to gambling, so he could keep her close on
those nights he played cards there. “And for pleasure?”
“I surf. What about you?”
Her desire to know him better, outside of
the sexual, was like having tendrils of smoke from a hearth fire curl through
his chest.
“I own a fleet of commercial boats. Outside
of managing them, I have a variety of interests. Poker is one of them. I play
at Drake’s Lair? You’ve heard of it?”
“Who hasn’t?” But she made no mention of
her sister’s invitation.
Should he admit to having met Lyra there?
Dragon pride kept him from it.
“Diving and exploring old wrecks is another
of my interests.”
She shivered. “I’ve sworn off diving.”
He cupped her face, used the touch in a
silent demand for her to meet his gaze. “You would have no reason to fear if
you were in the water with me. I protect what belongs to me.”
He leaned down, mouth covering hers, tongue
pressing between parted lips, good intentions escalating to carnal with the
first taste of himself on her. Gentle persuasion sank beneath waves of demand,
that she trust him completely and give herself into his care.
She intoxicated him even as she drove him
mad with the subtle shifting and grind of her buttocks against his cock, each
of her movements a challenge to his control. She grew bolder, as he’d come to
expect, hand going to the front of his shirt, stroking a pebbled nipple and
sending a flash of heat to a cock about to throw off the cage of magic and tear
through the front of his trousers to get to her.
“No,” he said, punishing them both with the
lift of his mouth from hers. Wanting nothing more than to stand with her in his
arms and take her to his car.
Her resistance—until the reason for her
arrival at Chains had been dealt with—was a given. An aggravation he intended
to put behind him. Now.
“I take care of what belongs to me,” he
said, selecting a pear slice and holding it to Summer’s lips. “I guard what is
mine.”
She took his offering, his heart swelling
with the act of tending to her. The need it fulfilled in him driving back the
intense
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