Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

wasn’t enveloped by his scent, cocooned in his strength, and surrounded by an oh-my-God gorgeous male. ’Cause…oh, yeah. He’d pulled her favorite trick. The naked one in which he came to her wearing nothing but skin.
    With a hum, Angela glanced over her shoulder and met his gaze. “Kiss me.”
    “Bossy female.” Desire made his eyes glow as he dipped his head and did as he was told.
    She sighed, accepting his taste as he delved in, mating their tongues. No preamble. No messing around. Nothing polite or nice about it. Just deep, intense, and fast…exactly how she liked it: him all over her. Deep in her mouth, he went to work, unbuttoning her BDUs, splitting the fly wide to slide beneath the waistband. His callused palm caressed her belly, then headed south, brushing over hypersensitive skin.
    “Hmm, yeah…just like that,” she gasped against his mouth. Locked in her embrace, he raised his head, his gaze on her face as he sank into her curls and stroked deep. Pleasure rushed through her, streaming into her veins like a drug. “Rikar…”
    “Christ, love…so wet already.” Showing no mercy, he amped her up, pushing the pants down her thighs while his fingers circled, the rhythm diabolical. And just like that, she rode the edge of orgasm, panting, gasping, begging for him without words. “Want me, do you?”
    “Yes.”
    “My way this time.”
    Angela’s breath hitched. His way . God, he’d been trying to take her like that all week. She’d shied every time: afraid, not ready, beyond freaked out by the idea.
    “Let me, angel,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. His hands stilled as he nuzzled the side of her throat. “Trust me, love. Let me love you that way.”
    From behind. He wanted to—
    A tremor rolled through her. “Rikar, I—”
    “Please?”
    Unzipping her jacket, he slipped his hand beneath her T-shirt, stroking gently as he drifted over her rib cage. The cotton snagged on his forearm, and cool air washed over her. Angela quivered. He growled and cupped her breast, burrowing beneath her bra to hold her in his palm. As she arched, he pressed in, molding his chest to her back, thumbed her nipple, and then plucked with delicious deliberation. Surrounded by him, his hands on her skin, his body hard against her, Angela shifted in his arms, uncertainty battling desperate need.
    “It won’t hurt.” He kissed the side of her neck, sucked gently as he rotated his fingers against the top of her sex. As the stroke and withdrawal started up again, Angela moaned and pressed back, trying to get closer. He rolled his hips against her, the curl and release keeping time with his fingers. “Let me show you, Angela. You’ll like it with me. I’ll make it good for you.”
    She knew what he wanted, and it had little to do with sex. What he craved reached beyond physical intimacy into trust. He needed her to trust him completely. To throw caution aside and have faith—in him and herself. Enough to let go of the fear and give him everything. No misgivings. No holding back. Just straight-up, in-your-face vulnerability.
    It was psychology 101: face what you most fear.
    His fingers continued to play, winding her tight, coaxing her with pleasure. Her breath hitched as he kissed her and waited for an answer. For the green light and…
    Screw it. She was going to let him. Rikar deserved better than that from her. He yearned for her trust, so she would hand him the power to give while taking and trust him to catch her when she fell.
    Holding his gaze, she dipped her chin. A simple nod. A barely-there shift in movement, but it was all he needed and everything he asked. Murmuring her name, he nipped her once, then kissed her deep, walking them forward toward the padded lip of a weight machine. Within seconds, he stripped her bare and wrapped her up, holding her close while he—
    “Oooh, God.” What clever, clever fingers he had. Smoothing his hand over her belly, he nipped her shoulder, kissed her nape, and then bent her forward. Her hipbones pressed into the padded edge of a weight machine, he settled behind her, his hips against her bottom. “Rikar?”
    “Easy angel,” he whispered. “And hang on tight. I’m gonna take you on a ride.”
    Her hands found purchase, grasping onto the metal bars in front of her.
    Spreading her legs wider, he stepped between while his hands caressed her from shoulders to lower back, playing in delicate hollows and sensitive valleys. He took it slow,