Her heart swelled, the sensations terrifying in their intensity as she marveled at how much this man could potentially come to mean to her and just how dangerous the agreement she’d made could become.
Mike waited for her breathing to even out before he dropped his gaze to the dewy skin below her belly button. Propped on one forearm over her, he stroked the dragon’s gold and copper scales with the fingers of his free hand. He’d noticed it the night before but hadn’t asked about it. “When did you have this done?” The softening of the snout and the sinuous, sensual positioning of the limbs gave the creature an earthy and decidedly feminine rather than fierce aspect. A primal part of him stirred to see her bearing his mark. Or something similar.
“Seven—no, six years ago.” Her voice was sleepy, unfocused, as she lifted her hand from beside her head to linger atop his hand. “It appealed to me when the artist created it.” The tips of her fingers skimmed along his as Mike traced the crimson and black rose cradled in the claws of one forepaw near where the dragon’s head rested.
When her free hand moved down and urged him to move, Mike sat up, exposing the inked art on his lower abdomen to her gaze.
“I was surprised by this. That we both have similar tattoos,” she told him.
Mike glanced down at the artwork decorating his pelvis and cock.
“Yours is masculine and intense. Its expression reminds me of an animal battling nature,” Lyssa confessed, eyes slumberous but slowly regaining the heat of arousal. Her fingers traced the design.
Mike pressed closer to her. His sheathed cock, still hard, nudged the wet folds of her sex. A tremor moved through her body as he smoothed his fingers over her dragon’s gold and copper haunches and along its tail. When the tip of his penis blocked him, he gripped it and used the latex-covered head to finish his exploration along the soft skin just above her mound.
Her breathing hitched, and she took a moment to recover before continuing, “It almost looks like the dragon carved above the doorway to the Club, with the green vines of a climbing rose wrapped around it.” Her fingers traced the four blooms along the greenery, each a blend of copper and gold the exact color of her dragon and a definite contrast to the ebony and crimson body of his beast.
Unlike the way the tail on her tattoo curled around her dragon, his dragon’s tail disappeared into the curls at the base of his penis before reappearing along the shaft of his cock and ending in a lethal-looking barb on his cockhead. The same head teasing the nude flesh he wanted to sink into. But he’d wait. She needed to be pushed just a bit more.
“When did you have yours done?” she asked.
“The day after I met you,” Mike responded.
The muscles in her throat contracted as she swallowed. Her fingers slid over his, then upward, along the pulsing shaft, as if she was fascinated with the intricate shading delineating each of the scales visible beneath the thin latex. “Did this hurt?”
The condom covering him muted the cool touch of her fingers, but it was still enough to get his flesh to react. With a mind of its own, his cock pressed closer to her. “Like a son of a bitch.” He chuckled and closed his hand over hers, lifting her hold away and guiding her palm up to her mouth. “Lick it, baby. Get it nice and wet.”
He watched heat flush her cheeks and her breathing speed up. The pretty rose crowns on her breasts grew hard as her tongue peeked out and lapped at her palm. Their gazes locked, and he shifted lower, nudging her thighs open wider, spreading the plump lips apart, and lowering his shaft into the wet crease.
She was hot and ready to take him in. But not yet. The sensitive knot hidden away beneath its hood responded as he rocked his body forward and back, rubbing his length against her, coating the rubber with her juices to ease the slide of her hand once she wrapped it around him again.
Mike let her see the pleasure he felt when he lowered her damp palm and rolled her fingers around his wet cock. He pressed down, squeezing her hand under his, showing her the pressure he preferred. The firm hold sent fire tingling along his spine. A vice twisted around his balls as he urged her hand to stroke him from base to tip, then back again. “It hurt like a son of a bitch,” he repeated, enjoying the sexy hurt her hand supplied.
“Why?”
“Because the cock is a very sensitive place on a guy, and I needed to be hard for the artist to ink it.” He released her hand to adjust one of her thighs higher against his hip, opening her more to his attentions.
Lyssa laughed and squeezed just a bit harder. Mike grunted and dipped his head to nip a berry-hard peak.
Lyssa jumped, and her fingers clenched over the tip of his cock. The fingers of her free hand threaded through his hair, holding his mouth close to breast. She groaned before asking her next question. “No, I meant why get a tattoo on your penis?”
He shrugged, tugging at her nipple before releasing it with a soft
pop
. “I’m not sure. Arrogance of youth, I guess.”
“I don’t buy it.” She shook her head and stroked his hard length.
Mike tilted his head to watch her hand on his flesh. The soft cream of her arousal dampened her pussy and thighs. “To prove you wrong.”
“Wrong?” Her touch faltered, and she released his erection.
Not allowing her time to pull away, Mike thrust inside her. She gasped, arching against him, her fingers tugging at his hair as she stared up at him.
“When I asked you to go celebrate with me and you asked me for my ID, I dealt with your rejection the only way I could. I went off to find the most macho thing possible to prove I was a real man.”
Breathless, her body squeezing him tight as he pulled out then pushed back inside, Lyssa gasped. “A-And getting a dragon tail ta-tattooed on your dick was it?” Her fingers clutched at his shoulders as he moved over her, hips rocking forward and back, measuring his full length inside in firm, aggressive thrusts.
“Up until she started working on the tat, I was actually thinking of getting a barbell piercing as well.” Mike shifted, lowering his chest onto hers, forcing her deep into the bedding. He braced his arms under her hips, pushing her thighs wide, opening her completely. He kept his pace hard and fast. “That’s it, babe; rise up,” he encouraged.
“I’m never going to be able to walk if you keep this up,” Lyssa moaned, but her body’s response revealed how much she enjoyed his loving. Her fingers released his hair to slide over his shoulders. Both hands scratched and pulled at him, urging him on.
When he stopped, she cried out. “I’m not complaining.”
Mike laughed. He knew what she needed, what her body needed, even if Lyssa was being stubborn about it and trying to ignore what was between them. He worked hard to keep the need from his voice as he asked, “So why’d you get your tat?”
Lyssa arched against him, her thighs tight around his hips. It seemed to take her a while to gather her thoughts, but he kept his hips moving, this time slow and steady.
“Your tattoo, baby. Tell me why you got it,” he whispered, his mouth against her throat, teeth nipping at her earlobe.
“I got it—
oh God, deeper, please
—I got it when I celebrated having been in business for ten years.” Lyssa hummed deep in her throat as he picked up his pace.
Her blue eyes glinted with humor, acknowledging how similar their reasoning for gaining their body art was. “Just had to get yourself some proof you weren’t a kid, huh?” he teased.
Lyssa grumbled, her expression a mixture of arousal and exasperation. “I guess.” She smiled and tugged his head down toward hers. “At least I stopped at exposing myself to the tattoo artist.”
Mike matched her grin. “Prude.” His mouth whispered over hers. “The lady who worked on me was very impressed at my…stamina.”
The flash of emotion in her gaze could have been disgust or jealousy. Mike chose jealousy, and satisfaction coiled around his heart at this hint of possessiveness in his woman. It was hell on his pride to think his woman refused to admit to even a fraction of what he felt for her. Beyond the heat generated by the sexual attraction between them, it was difficult to accept Lyssa’s determination not to trust that his declarations of love for her could be permanent.
He’d have to break her habit of trying to maintain control, like Mattie suggested.
“I have to a…admit”—Lyssa gasped, her gaze meeting his as he pulled her closer—“your stamina has me a bit breathless.”
Mike remained straight-faced. Holding her gaze, he asked, “Remember rule number three?”
Lyssa tensed, her eyes squeezing shut as she dropped her head back against the pillow. “I-I remember.”
Mike nipped her throat with his teeth, tugging on the bit of skin, leaving a telltale mark for anyone to notice. “Good.”
Her head ground into the pillow as a tremor vibrated through her body.
“Don’t come,” he ordered, pushing her thighs toward her chest, leaving her vulnerable to him.
Her body already recognized him as her master; her heart trusted his direction without question. It was her mind he needed to teach to let go. The agreement for thirty days of submission should be sufficient to prove to her he wouldn’t abandon her again. That she was as necessary to him as the air he breathed.
Her breasts were crushed against his chest. He freed one hand and tilted her face up to his. “Wait for it.”
Lyssa groaned. Her eyes closed, but a soft tap from his fingertips against her cheek opened them again.
Their gazes locked, and he watched her pupils dilate as climax rose within her. “Wait, pet.”
“Please.”
He could see her anger at herself as the plea escaped her. The blue of her irises was a pale ring around the dark centers. Against her lips, he whispered, “Come for me, Lys. Let me feel how wet I make you and how much you enjoy having me inside you.”
Her gasps wafted over his face. The choked-off cries hitched and blended into a soft wail of satisfaction as her sheath clenched around him, holding him inside, milking his body until there was nothing left.
He held her close, keeping their bodies joined as their breathing slowed and their eyes drifted shut. A few minutes, Mike promised himself, just a few more minutes to hold on before the next skirmish for control began.
* * *
After a shower, with Mike applying the sponge and soap, followed by a quick drying off, Lyssa pulled on a plush robe while Mike tugged on the jeans and T-shirt he’d shed earlier. Lyssa tried to tamp down the excitement she felt at having Mike in her home. She needed to keep her head. Isolate the sex from emotions. That was the only way she could protect herself.
“So when can I expect my next lesson?”
Mike stepped close and moved her hands from the robe’s belt. “That wasn’t a lesson, pet.” The smile on his lips should have warned her that keeping her covered wasn’t on his mind. The front of the robe parted, allowing him access to her shower-warmed skin. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he tugged her close, lowered his head, and pressed a soft kiss against her lips. “Do you remember the rules?”
She grimaced and rolled her eyes. Allowing one hand to rise and tangle in the thick hair at the back of his head, Lyssa held the other hand up and lifted the forefinger. “Rule number one: no other men.” The still-tender skin on her butt throbbed.
One of Mike’s hands stroked down her back, then rubbed across her bare bottom. “Hmm, only one reminder was required for that rule. Good.”
Lyssa made a face at him but refrained from comment and raised another finger. “Rule number two: you tell me when I’ve had enough.”
“You certainly enjoyed that rule, pet.” His mouth covered hers for a long, tongue-tangling kiss. The hand on her ass pulled her close, rubbing the firm rise of his jean-covered cock against her bare belly.
Over the next thirty days, this man would twist and tug and wrap her body into knots she knew she’d never get undone. And she’d love every second of it. Hell, the way her body pulsed now, with the internal muscles contracting and relaxing in time with the rock of his hips, she figured she’d be begging for more in no time.
But he wasn’t part of her future. She needed to stay focused on her plans, not the silly flights of fancy about happily ever after that kept popping into her head. The second his lips released hers, Lyssa drew a long, fortifying breath. She was going to need all the strength she could muster to keep from succumbing to his magnetism.
Lyssa put up a third finger beside the first two as she steadied her voice and enumerated the last rule. “Rule number three: everything belongs to you.” And it did, but she’d never let him know that.
“Very good, Lys. And what is our safe word?”
Lyssa smirked. “Worm?”
The hand on her buttocks lifted, then landed with a sharp
smack
. The sting set her juices flowing between her thighs. She sank her bottom teeth into her top lip to stifle her moan of arousal, but Mike sensed it.
He warned her, “Don’t think that sweet pussy of yours is going to distract me again, Miss Lawrence.” His mouth settled over hers, silencing any argument. When he released her, he demanded, “Now, the safe word?”
“Dragon.”
His lips bussed hers as his hands slid away. The rub of soft fabric against her aching breasts and the tug of something around her waist induced her to open her eyes and look down. Mike deftly retied the belt at her waist and straightened the lapels of her robe. He pressed one last kiss to her lips before pulling away. Her unease stirred the moment she saw the look in his eyes.
“Tell me what you expect from me, Lyssa.”
“Nothing.” The response slipped free before she realized the word had formed in her mind.
An expression she couldn’t name flickered across his face before disappearing. The curve of his lips compressed, and his eyes squeezed shut. Mike drew a deep breath, then expelled it. “Why?”
That was more difficult to answer. Not that she didn’t have a ready reply. She did. It just wasn’t
her
reply. “
Worthless. Useless. Should never have been born
.” Venomous insults and snarled words whispered through her mind. Internally she winced at the memories but refrained from repeating them aloud. Better to pretend ignorance than make Mike aware of faults he’d soon discover on his own. It was for her own good. Shrugging, she told him, “It’s only thirty days, Mike, not the rest of our lives.”