He didn’t want any of that between them right now. He only wanted Dagmar, the woman boldly leering at him as she pulled the slightly too large bodice apart. His gaze remained on her face, watching the flush that flowed across her cheeks as she became more excited. Her scent teased his senses, making it hard for him not to throw her to the ground and take what he wanted.

Dagmar pulled the dress off her shoulders and off her body. It dropped to the ground, quickly followed by her shift. Hands on her hips, she stood there with her brow raised in silent challenge.

With a quick swirl of his forefinger, he motioned for her to remove the bit of material covering her sex.

Letting out an annoyed little grunt, she muttered, “Lazy,” under her breath before tugging at the ribbons on each hip until they split apart and she could add the cloth to the growing pile at her feet.

Although she stood before him completely naked while he was clothed, her stance was defiant, brave, and demanding. It aroused him more than he could have imagined.

Uncrossing his arms, Gwenvael gently removed the scarf covering her head and pulled her braid around to the front. Untying the ribbon at the end, he took his time unbraiding the silky mass. When done, Gwenvael combed his fingers through her hair until it hung loose and free to her hips.

Now that he had her as he wanted her, he cupped her br**sts, his thumbs toying with her ni**les. Her eyes closed, body trembling, while Gwenvael amused himself.

His c**k pushed hard and heavy inside his leggings, and with every passing second it became harder and harder not to simply mount her and f**k them both into oblivion. But he needed her more ready than this.

Using gentle pressure, he pushed her back until her rear was pressed up against the boulder. He took her hands and kissed them. “I want to see what these small fingers of yours can do.”

She automatically reached for him, but he took firm hold of her hands and pushed them back against her body. “No. Show me on yourself.”

“You’re being lazy,” she teased.

“Desperate,” he replied. “Not sure I can get you ready before I take what’s mine.” Gripping her hips, he lifted her until she was spread out on the boulder.

“Lie back and show me,” he calmly ordered.

She didn’t move right away, her head leaning back a bit as her squinty gaze searched the darkness.

“Here,” he said softly, lifting her dominant hand with his own, “let me help you.” He sucked her middle finger into his mouth, his tongue slowly swirling around the tip. She moaned sounding in pain as her mind fought what her body wanted so badly. When she began to squirm, he released her finger and placed it against what was quickly becoming a very wet pu**y.

“Show me,” he whispered, and waited.

This was insanity. Out here in the open, naked except for her boots, with a dragon everyone knew to be an unrepentant slag. Not simply naked, though, but splayed open across a boulder with her hands between her legs.

Yet this had been the substance of her fantasies for years, fantasies, where everything was safe and hers without the involvement of anyone else. She used those fantasies to help her fall asleep at night after pleasuring herself once, maybe twice. And she’d had no intention of telling anyone about those fantasies. No husband or female friend because there had been no one she’d trust enough with that information. How could she? When she’d been forced more than once to use that kind of information to protect herself against someone else?

But what she kept coming back to, again and again, was that she hadn’t told the dragon anything. She hadn’t let him in on her secrets. True enough, he’d discovered her enjoyment of watching others, but there were few she knew of who wouldn’t stop and watch when stumbling across a coupling.

Yet Gwenvael the Handsome kept getting to the heart of her desires with little to no help from her. Was that where his reputation stemmed from? Was that why so many women came back to him again and again? Would she?

His fingers brushed across hers. Gentle, but insistent. Whisper soft, but demanding.

He understood so well the rudiments of taking control. Ropes and chains were merely one element. And although fun to talk about, it was not an element necessary at all times.

Unwilling to stop herself any longer, Dagmar began to stroke her sex with the tips of her fingers. Playing with herself as she’d want a man to. She took her time, allowing her body to heat up as her fingers slid deeper and deeper inside, writhing as she’d occasionally touch her clitoris. She didn’t rush anything but, instead, took her own sweet time making her body ache.

It seemed to work well as a strong grip took hold of her fingers and pushed the middle and forefinger inside her body.

“Fuck yourself,” he growled. She did, her hips rocking against her own hand, her own moans getting louder with each thrust.

She felt the dragon’s human hands press against the inside of her thighs, pushing her legs apart. And then his mouth was on her, his tongue taking up the teasing of her clitoris. She began to squirm harder, the intensity of it almost too much to bear. But his hands pinned her down against the boulder, holding her in place as he took his turn making her body ache.

Dagmar’s back arched as he did things with the tip of his tongue that had her crying out, her voice echoing in the dark clearing. She had no time to worry whether she may be alerting anyone to their presence as he sucked the small bundle of nerves between his lips and proceeded to roll it back and forth gently until her body jerked out its climax, her free hand pinning his head against her body, unwilling to release him until the last shudder had passed.