Ragnar caught hold of her hips, pulling her in tight while he drove up.
Keita’s head fell back; she laughed even as she moaned.
Gods! That felt so good.
She couldn’t explain why, didn’t care. She just knew she loved it.
Every inch of his c*ck driving into her—nothing had ever felt quite this good.
His hands moved up her sides and pulled her down, closer. Ragnar sat up a bit until he could reach her breast. His mouth surrounded it, and then, she felt it. Little lightning strikes against her breast. Little lightning strikes that had her entire body clenching, her eyes opening wide in surprise.
She panted, twisting hard against him, her hands pressing against his shoulders. Not to get away—at this moment, she was sure she’d never want to get away—but because she’d lost control. A control she prided herself on having when it came to males. He moved to her other breast, released more little shocks against her flesh, and Keita screamed out, the first orgasm ripping through her, followed closely by a second.
Shaking, covered in sweat, she held on to him as he continued to f**k her, using his mouth and tongue on her n**ples until he did it again. Until he sent those tiny lightning strikes into her body and Keita cried out once more, her entire body clenching. But this time his cry joined hers, his hands squeezing her so tight she wondered if he’d crush her ribs. He came inside her, his h*ps rocking into her as each new ejaculation shot into her hard and hot.
When, finally, his arms wrapped around her waist and her head crashed into his chest, she knew with absolute certainty that making a deal with this dragon was perhaps the dumbest thing she’d ever done.
Panting, head slowly beginning to clear, Ragnar realized he had Keita in his arms and a short amount of time to figure out how to keep her there.
The first step, though, was not to let her know that was his intent. If he even showed a hint of making what they had permanent, she’d run off like a startled rabbit.
So he wisely kept his mouth shut and leaned back against the lakeside dirt with Keita held against him. He waited until they could both breathe evenly again before he asked, “Is there any way to get out of the dancing portion of tonight’s dinner?”
She laughed, and he heard the relief in it. Knew she was expecting a litany of praise for what had just happened and promises of commitment for all time. He had no intention of being so obvious. Besides, he never understood the after-sex chatty ones who felt the need to analyze every thrust, gasp, and shudder.
“Not really. But you could try sacrificing your kin while you make your escape.”
“They’ll hate me for that.” He shrugged. “But it might be worth it.” She lifted herself up, resting an elbow on his chest, her chin in her palm. “You can’t dance?”
“I have been taught the skill, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy it.”
“You’ll have to at least dance with me.”
“If I must.”
Lips tightening, she punched his arm. “There are males who’d kill for a chance to dance with me, but I’m allowing you the privilege. You should feel honored.”
“Oh, I do.” He rolled over until she was beneath him, his c*ck instantly stirring back to life. “We should bathe in the lake before we go back,” he murmured, trying to brush the rest of the dress away from her body. “Might as well do it here.”
“You ruined my dress,” she remarked.
“Hhhm.” Ragnar gripped what was left of the bodice and tore the gown down the middle, giving him complete access to her body.
“You should buy me another.”
“You ruined my leggings,” he replied, pulling his hands away from her long enough to pull his shirt up over his head and toss it off into the grass. “That makes us even.”
“Dammit.” She pressed her hands against his chest and stroked his flesh. Ragnar’s eyes closed, his head falling forward, his c*ck more than ready to begin again. “My evil plan for a new dress foiled again.” Her fingers grazed the skin where she’d stabbed him with her tail, and Ragnar shuddered.
“I hurt you that day.”
“You poisoned me.”
“You deserved it. But it has healed, has it not?”
“It has, finally.”
She leaned up, licked the scar. “Good thing I’m so damn forgiving, warlord.”
He caught her shoulders and, with much more force than he ever planned to use, slammed her back into the ground. Keita only smiled.
“I thought we had to bathe and get back to the castle,” she reminded him.
“Later.” His gaze locked with hers, he pinned her arms to the ground and began where he’d left off, thrusting his hard c*ck inside her.
Grinning, Keita tossed her head back, her eyes closed, her body meeting his thrusts with her own. “Later works for me. Much later sounds even better.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Izzy dropped the dress, faced her cousin, and both burst out laughing, the puppy she still refused to return to the kennel barking happily.
“I think I’ve outgrown it a bit,” she said.
“Gods, Iz!” Branwen crouched by her and tugged at the bottom. It barely reached her shins. “At least you’ll be able to dance in it.” They laughed harder.
Although Izzy would never admit it to her mother—at least until she was done being good and self-righteously pissed off—she was happy to be home. And it was home. Her home. The one place she’d always be welcome.
“I’ll talk to Keita,” Branwen offered, standing tall.
“How does that help? She’s a tree gnome compared to me.”
“True, but she has an eye. She can track down a dress that’ll make you look bloody stunning in seconds.”
Branwen went to the door, pulled it open, and yelped. “Don’t bloody sneak up on me!”
“I wasn’t.”
Her cousin stepped out, and Izzy’s “uncle” stepped in.
Izzy turned back to the mirror, but kept her head down a bit to get control of her smile. She knew he’d be back. After the way he’d looked at her earlier in the courtyard, she knew it.
“So what do you think?” she asked him once Brannie had left.
Éibhear blinked. “Uh…it’s a bit short.” He scowled at her chest. “And a bit tight.”
She looked down at herself. Her tits were bulging out of the bodice. “I seem to have grown out of it since I last wore it.”
“I haven’t fared much better with my own wardrobe.” He closed the door behind him. “Izzy?”
“Hhmm?”
“I think we should talk.”
This was it! This was it! He’d finally admit how much he’d missed her, and that’s all she needed—at this moment. He could tell her he adored her and wanted her forever and ever, tomorrow…or later in the week. But for now, a simple, “I missed you” or, even better, a simple “I missed you, can’t live without you—by the gods, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known” would do just fine.
“All right then. Let’s talk.”
He walked up to her, took her hands in his. And blood and fire, he had big hands!
“Izzy?”
“Aye?”
He let out a breath. “You need to be careful.” Careful? Careful of what? His overwhelming love and adoration?
“I need to be careful about what?”
“Celyn.”
“Celyn? What about Celyn?”
“I know you don’t understand, that you think he’s just being friendly or a good cousin, but I think he wants more from you than that.” Izzy couldn’t believe it. He was still playing protective uncle. But she already had protective uncles! Plus a protective grandfather, protective great uncles, protective aunts and great aunts, and protective cousins! What she didn’t need, what she would never need again, was another goddamn protective anything!
Izzy pulled her hands away. “You’re an idiot.” Éibhear stepped away from her. “What?”
“I said you are an idiot.”
“I’m trying to watch out for you.”
“I don’t need you watching out for me. You haven’t watched out for me for two years now and look.” She held her arms out from her body. “I’m still here. In one piece. I will tell you this, though.” She slammed her finger into his chest. “Celyn has watched my back in battle.” She slammed her finger again. “Celyn has helped me wash blood out of my hair.” Another slam. “Celyn also tore the arms off a bloke who thought it would be funny to jump me when I was out alone on night patrol.” Another slam that had Éibhear backing up into the door. “So if you don’t mind, I think I’ll keep Celyn as a friend since he’s been there when you have not!”
“I was trying to warn you!”
“You can stick your warnings up your ass!” She shoved him aside and yanked the door open. “Now get the f**k out of my room.” Éibhear stomped into the hall, but he spun around to face her. “Izzy—”
She slammed the door in his face and tore the stupid, too small dress off her body, chucking it across the room.
He had to be the most infuriating dragon she’d ever met, and it galled her that she might be trapped loving him forever!
“Are they having an execution?” Vigholf asked, watching as the Southlanders began to move tables out of the way to open up the floor.
“They don’t do that sort of thing during dinner,” Meinhard stated, then added, “The humans don’t, anyway.”
“But we’ve already finished eating.” Vigholf kept his hand on his sword. “Maybe we should leave?”
Ragnar had kept it from them as long as he could, but now he had no choice but to speak the truth. “We can’t leave.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re invited. It would look poorly if we leave.”
“Invited? For what?”
Ragnar took a breath to explain it all to his kin, but the musicians began to play and the Ruiner slid to a stop on his knees, facing the front of the hall. He was such an odd dragon. “Sister!” he called out.
“Brother!” Keita, looking dazzling in a light blue gown, her dark red hair threaded with light blue flowers, ran barefoot up to her brother.
“Dance with me,” he ordered. “My mate refuses.” Keita gasped. “Is she mad? Does she know who she turns down?” She placed her hand into her brother’s. “When will she ever get a chance to dance with someone as beautiful and amazing as you?”
“That’s what I keep telling her!” Gwenvael got to his feet and spun his sister out into the middle of the floor. “But she never listens.”
“You bastard!” Vigholf growled at Ragnar through clenched teeth.
“I’m leaving,” Meinhard said.
“Neither of you are going anywhere.” To be honest, he didn’t want to be left alone. “If I’m sticking it out, you are as well.”
“We don’t have to.” Vigholf glared at him. “We’re not the ones f**king a royal.”