Chapter 9-3

725 Words
DRAKE WASN’T READY for the taste of his mate. It was intoxicating. He wanted to devour her, hear her scream his name as he lapped up her pleasure. His tongue darted between her folds to caress the most sensitive parts of her, making her squirm as he held her hips. He delved deeper, pushed past the folds, teasing her entrance. She was ready for him, slick with need, but he wasn’t ready for that. Drake wanted to make her come first. He wanted to feel her shiver in his grasp while he coaxed her up and over the precipice. Which she did, plenty. As his tongue danced over her part, Layla squirmed and trembled, her back arching the closer she came. He raised a hand and cupped her bare breast. Her n****e was taught in his hand, ready to be plucked and teased. She clasped a hand over his, keeping it there as he brought her waves of pleasure. “Drake,” she said, breathless. “I’m going to come.” She said those words as if she should wait for him. This was not about him. His tongue flicked over her most sensitive place while his thumb and forefinger teased her n****e. He wanted her to know what he could do for her, what he was willing to do for her with nothing in return. That was how he led. That would be how he loved. Layla spasmed in his hands, screaming her pleasure into a pillow at the last moment to keep her voice from rising upstairs. Drake quickly pulled back and plunged inside of her. Her opening contracted around him and he could barely suppress the moan that escaped him. Layla gasped from the sudden sensation. She reached for him, gripping his arms so that her nails dug into her skin, as if the contact would keep her from floating away. He laughed, a purring sound, before bending close and laying soft kisses long her collarbone. His lips grazed the hollow of her throat. She was his fighter, his protector. He would do the same for her. He would help her heal from the trauma she’d lived through. He would make her into a strong queen, revealing what she already had instead of changing who she was. His hips began a gentle rhythm. His thrusts were soft until her legs rose to wrap around him, her ankles locked behind his back. It drove him deeper and deeper. He didn’t know how long he could last as his own pleasure rose. He forced himself to slow down, to take pleasure in the long, luxurious strokes. He angled his hips so that he could strike her sweet spot each time. She replied with soft moans into the satin pillows and he felt a surge of pride mingle with his own pleasure. He would make sure she always made that sound. He couldn’t fight it much longer. The need to drive home, so deep that skin touched skin, was overwhelming. Drake wanted to feel her climax again, but his own was rushing to the surface. He tried to take it slow. He tried to be gentle. The beast inside his mind reminded him that their mate would not want gentle. She was a warrior. She was theirs and they would take her. So, he slammed home and heard her moans grow louder even as she muffled them in the pillows. She cried for him. She cried for her own pleasure. Drake’s head fell forward as he lost himself in the feeling of their mate. His thrusts became faster. His mate cried out each time he hit home. She writhed beneath him, her hands roving over his bare body. He knew, when her back arched and her head fell back as she stifled another groan, that he’d brought her to another climax. Her opening spasmed around his c**k. That knowledge released some kind of gate he’d been holding and his own climax burst forth. He bit his tongue to keep from howling his pleasure through the house. Beneath him, Layla’s hand still trailed over his skin. She looked up and met his eyes. For once, they were unguarded. The woman beneath him was Layla, whole and true. She was a creature like he’d never seen before. Fierce and loyal, she would protect him and his family. Drake couldn’t have asked for anything more for his family. He never expected anything like this for himself. * * * * *
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