thrusts as he quickly fell into a punishing rhythm, that had her struggling to match his pace. She kept falling out of time, only for him seize her hips and jolt her back against him, hard until she matched him thrust for thrust. The sensations rising in her soon had her spiraling out of control. He wasn’t teasing or coaxing cooperation from her body this time. He was demanding it. There was no more dragon and knight talk either as he grunted loudly in time with each of his pounding thrusts. Una lost herself completely to sensation, the sounds, the pleasure.
She wouldn’t even know how to describe the strange keening noise she was making. She ought to release her grip of his rippling shoulders and cover her mouth, she thought, her senses reeling. But if she did that—if she did that, he might stop. And if he stopped then she would surely die of disappointment. It wasn’t as though he was trying to muffle her cries, she consoled herself. Between the two of them, they were creating quite a racket.
Then she gave up on conscious thought as her moans turned hoarse and her movements became frantic and the tension building and building inside her suddenly burst in a blaze like a ball of flame, that tore through her like wildfire utterly consuming her. She lay stunned and shaking as Armand shattered in almost the same instant. He gave a guttural cry, before slumping over her with a low, spent groan and thus they remained for several long moments, intertwined and panting.
“Holy fuck,” he breathed at last, kissing her brow. “That was … incredible.” He gave a small chuckle. “Your dragon was certainly … formidable.” Una tightened her arms around him, which had fallen slack. She didn’t feel up to words right now. “We’ll call that an even draw,” he mused. “Though in truth I think you defeated me utterly.”
Then he seemed to notice her silence and drew back, eyeing her almost warily. “Una?” She buried her face in his neck, unable to face his teasing. “Feeling shy?” he asked sounding amused. She shook her head but would not look at him all the same. He blew out a breath. “Very well, I’ll let you off the hook this once. But only because you were an absolute revelation.” He drew a lazy pattern against the skin of her back with his fingertip. “I never thought dragon-slaying would be so—” He broke off at the sound of some noise outside. “What the fuck?” It was a gentle knock on the door. “Go away!” Armand bawled.
Una winced. “Armand,” she murmured reproachfully. “They must be waiting on us to serve supper.”
“Supper?” He glanced at the window. “Oh yes,” he said frowning, clearly displeased at the thought of venturing below stairs.
“I could ask them to serve ours to us here,” she suggested. “At the small table in the corner?”
His expression cleared. “That’s a damned good notion,” he said with approval.
“And also, to bring us a bath,” she suggested, coloring slightly.
He looked thoughtful. “How large is the tub?”
*
They ate their supper intimately secluded in the privacy of their room. Armand’s bare feet brushed her own under the small table and after the first few passes, she realized it was by design rather than mere accident. By the time they were tucking into the roasted meats, her own feet were resting atop of his in an act of familiarity that quite took her breath away.
Feeling his eyes upon her almost stole her appetite, and he had to keep urging her to eat. “You’ll need your strength,” he teased, wagging his eyebrows at her, and Una felt her face grow hot. She had a terrible suspicion he was going to tease her about their dragon play, and she felt entirely lily-livered about the subject. It was one thing to be bold in the throes of passion, but quite another to have anything you might have said repeated back to you in the cold light of day.
His glinting eyes seemed to say he could guess her thoughts, for though she could see a jest tremble on his lips a time or two, he did not voice whatever it was, though his eyes brimmed over with wicked laughter. He ate voraciously, his eyes never wavering far from her face, and though she was dressed in a loose brocade robe over her shift and should have been quite comfortable, she felt as breathless as if she had been tightly laced.
When the