Lord of Chaos (The Dragon Demigods #7) - Charlene Hartnady Page 0,45

nothing. It was a big deal for Rage. I’m touched he did that for me.

I sit up. I want to touch his face. Touch him, but I instinctively know he won’t go for it, so I refrain. “It’s me who’s using you selfishly,” I remind him.

He grunts. Far more like the man I know. “No, Nia. I’m about to use you. I’m about to be as selfish as it gets. Trust me on that. I wanted you to come because you might not be able to when I’m inside you.”

“You’re not a selfish person.” I shake my head. “I don’t believe it.”

“You’d better believe it, sweetheart.” He goes back to treating me like a Kitty. Like I mean nothing. I know deep down that it isn’t true. We can’t fall for one another, but it doesn’t have to be like that either. I’m not Kitty. I’m a fucking hellhound shifter. I’m me!

Irritation wells. “Don’t call me that.”

“Sweetheart is an endearment.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Would you rather I called you Mochyn?” His eyes are glinting with humor.

“Yes, I would.” I keep my chin high. “Mochyn would be preferable to some cheap endearment you use on all the women you sleep with.”

“All the women I sleep with? If I didn’t know better, I would say you were jealous.” His eyes are still glinting. A smile is toying with the edges of his mouth.

“Not jealous. I just happen to have more respect for myself than that.” Gaire lied to me, and later, he treated me like shit. By the time I realized what kind of a man he really was, I was in too deep. It’s not happening again! I won’t be disrespected either. Not by anyone.

“Good to know. I’m happy to hear it.” His eyes seem to become darker, and his jaw tightens. “I need you on your knees for this next part, Nia,” he says; his voice is strained. Rage pulls the towel off, and his cock springs free.

My eyes are drawn to its impressive length and girth. I’m pulled like a moth to a wildfire. I think I might be leaning forward a little more than I was. A drop of precum appears at the tip. I’m fascinated. I’m not sure why, since I’ve seen plenty of naked men before.

I lick my lips and then yelp as he turns me over onto my knees. He hooks an arm under my belly and cages me in with his body, which is hot and hard. His cock is pressing against my ass. I’m feeling a little nervous. Rage is bigger than Gaire. This might hurt some.

“Eyes to the front,” he commands, though his voice is gentle. “Keep your hands on the bed,” he adds. “I would prefer it if you had a safe word, in case I’m too rough. In case…you don’t like the sex…or you can’t take the blood. Women have cried,” he admits, his voice soft and a little unsure, maybe. “They’ve screamed…I even had one throw up.”

My heart is pounding. “I won’t do any of those things,” I assure him. I think he’s sweet. I feel his hands shake. I think he’s nervous. At least he cares. That’s what I’m getting out of this. Rage cares.

“Say a word, Nia.” The hand on my belly slides between my legs, zoning in on my clit.

“Jesus!” I moan.

“That’s not the best safe word I’ve ever heard.” It sounds like he’s smiling. “You might want to pick again. His finger is rubbing slow, easy circles over my clitoris, which has gone back to being ultra-sensitive. Why doesn’t it feel like this when I touch myself? I don’t get it.

I groan.

“I need a word, Nia.”

“I can’t think.” I moan again.

He stops moving his finger. “What’s the first word that comes to mind?”

“Please.” It sounds like a plea. Who am I kidding? It is one. This already feels good, and he’s not even inside me yet. I refuse to get my hopes up, though.

He chuckles. I feel his body vibrate. “Again, a terrible word. It can’t be deeper, harder, Jesus…God…Rage…yes…please…there…any cuss word. Oh, and faster. All of those are out because you might say one or more and several times.”

“So I should pick something I definitely won’t say during sex…or ever?” My breath is coming in ragged pants. His finger is just sitting there, motionless. It feels like my clit is throbbing beneath it.

“Yes. That’s the general idea. We don’t want confusion. Must be black and white.”

“I pick ‘love’. No chance of that little word slipping