Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King

EASY: His war room. His army. His dragon.

HARD: His wife. His fangs. His dick.

Finally, they were alone. Thank the gods. Maddox’s dragon was getting impatient. He was behind her. Big spoon. Both arms around her, fingers interlocked over her stomach.

She fit against him perfectly, and his dragon was purring like the world’s most dangerous furnace.

He breathed her in, the ache in his chest settling for the first time since that morning. There was so much he wanted to say.

What came out was: ”You’re mine. Mate.”

He nipped at her ear.

She giggled, which made him grin like an idiot behind her. She had no idea what that sound did to him.

”I don’t want to leave you,” Maddox said after a minute. His dragon stopped purring to huff in agreement. ”I feel your fever.”

She rolled onto her back to look at him. ”New rule. You’re not allowed to worry about me, Maddox.”

”That’s cute. Denied.”

He leaned down. She didn’t move. The space between them became a dare and a promise.

He stopped with his mouth an inch from hers. ”Gwen.”

”Maddox.”

”I’m going to kiss you.”

”I know.”

Their lips touched and his dragon went so still inside his chest it felt like the beast had stopped breathing. Maddox understood. He’d stopped breathing too.

He kissed her. Soft. Careful. The way a man kisses something he’s terrified of breaking.

Her lips parted for him. Maddox took full advantage, tongue plunging into her mouth, stroking deep and possessive as he pulled her tighter against him.

Broken ribs be damned. He wanted to pin her beneath him and watch her face while he took her apart. His dragon was in full agreement, offering suggestions that ranged from aggressive to felonious.

But he stayed where he was, because her upper body was a war zone and he’d die before he hurt her. His hand slid down, finding the hem of her chemise and slipped beneath it. The first contact of his skin against hers made both of them inhale at the same time.

Warm.

”Fuck, Gwen.”

Her hips rolled into his hand. One slow, instinctive grind that she probably didn’t even realize she was doing, but made his cock throb against her thigh.

His fingers slipped past the lace, and he circled her clit once, twice, before he pushed a finger inside of her.

The sound she made went straight to his cock with the efficiency of a lightning bolt hitting a metal rod, shorting out his brain for a full second before instinct took over. His rhythm was muscle memory, like his body knew this woman even if his mind was catching up. The fact that his hands remembered what his brain couldn’t was doing something to him that went beyond arousal and into territory that felt like grief and hunger at the same time.

He pulled away from their kiss and pressed his forehead against hers.

She blushed, meeting his eyes as her hips began to move against his finger, grinding down while he pumped in and out of her tight heat.

”That’s it, baby,” he whispered. ”Just like that. Cum all over my hand.”

He increased his pace, his palm slapping rhythmically against her clit.

She gasped, spasming around him in tight pulses.

”Fuck. I need to taste you,” he groaned. In a blur, he moved down the bed and pushed her thighs apart while she was still pulsing around his finger.

”Maddox...” she breathed, her blush deepening.

His tongue replaced his finger, pushing inside her while he began rubbing her clit.

Her cum tasted so good. The noise that came out of his throat was somewhere between a groan and a cry.

She started to writhe harder, hips bucking wildly against his face while he held her firmly in place. With a broken moan, she shattered for him, the contractions tight and devastating against his tongue.

He stayed with her through every pulse, then slowly kissed his way up her body, over the silk, careful of her gashes.

”Baby, I want to be inside of you,” he rasped. An understatement.

It was at this point that he realized he was full-on jackrabbiting her leg, cotton pants still on. His ribs were numb. Everything was numb except his cock. And only she could fix it.

The last functioning brain cell in his skull stepped forward like a tired employee at the end of a double shift and said: She has internal bleeding. Your ribs are broken. You have a war council in forty minutes. Do not put your cock inside this woman right now.

But then she pulled his face down, and kissed him like she was daring him to say fuck the rules.

He started rutting against her harder like a man possessed trying to fuck through the cotton.

The friction combined with her scent combined with the taste of her in his mouth created a feedback loop that his restraint did not survive.

Then his fangs began to elongate mid-kiss. He could feel them.

He pulled back, stiffening. ”Guinevere... I’m fighting the urge—”

She rolled back into him, pressing her body against his. His pants weren’t going to make it down in time. He was going to cum like this.

With a grunt, it started and he lost all control. One second he was hovering above her, the next his venom was flowing into her bloodstream with the subtlety of a house fire.

Fuck.

His dragon roared in triumph.

MINE.

Her whimper vibrated against his fangs and traveled through his whole body. His hips continued jack-knifing against her thigh. Hard. Desperate. Fast.

Every wave spilled more into his pants and drove his fangs deeper, the venom and orgasm feeding each other. He couldn’t stop. His body was finishing on its own terms and his brain was no longer involved in the conversation until the last aftershock rolled through him.

His fangs retracted. Slow. His breathing was ragged against her neck. Shit.

”Baby?”

She was limp in his arms.

He exhaled through his nose, long and slow, the exhale of a king reassessing every decision that led to this specific moment.

She was out cold. He was soaked. His ribs were screaming. His dragon was purring like a smug bastard who considered the evening a categorical success.

We marked mate. This is perfect.

”This is the opposite of perfect. Dragons don’t mark more than once,” Maddox snapped.

Excellent performance. Now other males will smell ownership.

”That is not excellent performance. I came in my pants.”

Pants are irrelevant. Seed was released. Dragon approves.

”The seed was released into cotton, you delusional lizard.”

His dragon huffed, the internal equivalent of a shrug, and curled back into his chest with the self-satisfaction of a beast that had zero concept of shame.

Maddox looked down at his wife.

The dragon purred louder.

”Shut up.”

Maddox: Aldric, we have another situation.