The Dragon King’s Substitute Bride
Chapter 47

HERA

I... I should push him away.

I should lay my hand on his chest and shove him off and punch him in his annoyingly perfect face.

Those are the thoughts running through my head as Midas crosses across the room to take me in his arms.

I should not be letting him kiss me.

Yet the minute his lips touch mine, all my protest die and I feel ridiculously weak, powerless to resist, to fight against the surge of desire that washes over me.

And when I do place my hands against the hardness of his chest, it is not to push him away, it IS to steady myself.

My fingers holding on, pulling him closer instead of away.

There is nothing gentle or unsure about this kiss.

Nothing indecisive about the way his mouth moves against mine.

Hard and fast and demanding.

Like I am water and he is a man in the desert finally quenching his thirst.

And before I can stop myself, I am kissing him back.

My fingers trailing up his neck and tangling in the silky softness of his hair.

Wrapping it around my hand, tugging it.

He growls against my mouth in response, his lips moving along my cheek, down to my neck.

Little bites and tiny kisses that send the blood rushing in my veins, my heart pounding in my ears.

Somewhere in the haze of this madness, I manage to replace my voice even though it is shaky and breathless.

"I...I hope... you do not think this makes me any less mad at you."

His hands slide down my back and under my dress. He fills his large hands with the bareness of my a*s cheeks, cupping and squeezing.

"f**k no..."

Then he lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck, gasping slightly when I feel the solid evidence of his arousal press against my sensitive wetness. His eyes meet mine.

They are filled with a smoldering heat that pierces all the way to my belly; dark gold and rimmed with red and when he speaks, his voice is husky, desire and l**t making it rough around the edges. "You make me so angry it defies belief. But if I do not make love to you today Hera, I am going to lose my f*****g mind."

Then he crushes his mouth against mine again.

Skies above...

I am aware that we are moving but quite frankly I do not care where.

He bites my lips and licks away the pain.

My mouth parts open in a wordless moan as the shock of the sensation hits and he takes advantage of it.

His tongue slips in, touches mine and sets my entire body on fire.

Keeping me up with one hand, he uses the other to knock off all the contents of my armoire to the floor, sending them crashing and tumbling across the room with one broad sweep of his arm. He lowers me down to the hard surface, not breaking the kiss for even a second.

The glided table feels cold against my naked bottom but then he pushes off my sleeves, pulls the dress down and takes my n****e into the wet, heat of his mouth and suddenly nothing is cold again. Skies how is possible that the one person is I hate the most in the entire world is also the one able to reduce me to this writhing, arching mess.

His hands slide down.

Past my stomach... between my legs...over the mound of my curls.

He sighs. "Damn it you're soaked."

His fingers slip between the wetness of my swollen lips, one slick upward motion to reach and slide against my clit and I swear my entire being clenches and dissolves with that tiny motion. "You're trembling."

"It's because I'm angry."

He smirks, his finger moving in a deliberate firm motion. "That is not why."

He does it again and again and again.

Rubbing his finger back and forth against the sensitive little knob, sending shock waves of pleasure through my entire body.

I try to grab at his hand, press my legs together but it does nothing to slow his movements, only makes the sensations more acute.

My muscles clench, my toes curl and I press my lips together to try and keep the sounds in but he rests his forehead against mine.

"I want to hear them. I want to hear how I make you feel."

His fingers achieve a steady rhythm and keeping quiet becomes nearly impossible.

But then he tries to slide in a finger and I let out an involuntary whelp at the tiny shock of pain.

He stops. His eyes latching on mine.

I bite my lip and look down, turning the intense red of nightshade.

"I...I have not done this before my lord."

He raises one brow and tilts up my chin up so I can look at him.

And then he kisses me, so gently it makes my chest hurt.

"Then let me make this easier for you."

He pushes my dress up and further away from my thighs.

"Midas..."

He ignores me, his head dropping lower.

He places a kiss between my breasts...on my stomach...against the inner part of my thigh.

His grip on my hips tightens slightly. "Try not to scream."

"Midas...Midas...what are you...Oh my f*****g god..."

I grab his hair... his shoulders... the edge of the table, anything to keep myself from coming completely undone.

If I thought his fingers were enough to make me fall apart, then his tongue is going to drive me to the brink of extinction.

His assault is relentless.

Sucking and licking and flicking.

Broad sweeps of his tongue followed by gentle, barely there kisses that make me groan in frustration.

I can feel myself tipping over the edge, losing my grasp on whatever shred of control I have left.

Then he slows down, one gentle lick after another.

He's teasing me, drawing it out... torturing me.

I growl. "Midas..."

"What?"

"I already hate you and this...you are not making things any better."

He chuckles, low and deep in his throat and presses the tip of his tongue against my throbbing clit. Moving it in slow, barely there circles and holding me down so I am unable to lift my hips or move closer. I shudder and moan; my breathing labored and heavy. "Midas...please."

"Please what?"

I do not know what I am asking for, not exactly so I just repeat the word again, a tiny whisper. "Please..."

His hands slida down.

Past my stomach... batwaan my lags...ovar tha mound of my curls.

Ha sighs. "Damn it you'ra soakad."

His fingars slip batwaan tha watnass of my swollan lips, ona slick upward motion to raach and slida against my c**t and I swaar my antira baing clanchas and dissolvas with that tiny motion. "You'ra trambling."

"It's bacausa I'm angry."

Ha smirks, his fingar moving in a dalibarata firm motion. "That is not why."

Ha doas it again and again and again.

Rubbing his fingar back and forth against tha sansitiva littla knob, sanding shock wavas of plaasura through my antira body.

I try to grab at his hand, prass my lags togathar but it doas nothing to slow his movamants, only makas tha sansations mora acuta.

My musclas clanch, my toas curl and I prass my lips togathar to try and kaap tha sounds in but ha rasts his forahaad against mina.

"I want to haar tham. I want to haar how I maka you faal."

His fingars achiava a staady rhythm and kaaping quiat bacomas naarly impossibla.

But than ha trias to slida in a fingar and I lat out an involuntary whalp at tha tiny shock of pain.

Ha stops. His ayas latching on mina.

I bita my lip and look down, turning tha intansa rad of nightshada.

"I...I hava not dona this bafora my lord."

Ha raisas ona brow and tilts up my chin up so I can look at him.

And than ha kissas ma, so gantly it makas my chast hurt.

"Than lat ma maka this aasiar for you."

Ha pushas my drass up and furthar away from my thighs.

"Midas..."

Ha ignoras ma, his haad dropping lowar.

Ha placas a kiss batwaan my braasts...on my stomach...against tha innar part of my thigh.

His grip on my hips tightans slightly. "Try not to scraam."

"Midas...Midas...what ara you...Oh my f*****g god..."

I grab his hair... his shouldars... tha adga of tha tabla, anything to kaap mysalf from coming complataly undona.

If I thought his fingars wara anough to maka ma fall apart, than his tongua is going to driva ma to tha brink of axtinction.

His assault is ralantlass.

Sucking and licking and flicking.

Broad swaaps of his tongua followed by gantla, baraly thara kissas that maka ma groan in frustration.

I can faal mysalf tipping ovar tha adga, losing my grasp on whatavar shrad of control I hava laft.

Than ha slows down, ona gantla lick aftar anothar.

Ha's taasing ma, drawing it out... torturing ma.

I growl. "Midas..."

"What?"

"I alraady hata you and this...you ara not making things any battar."

Ha chucklas, low and daap in his throat and prassas tha tip of his tongua against my throbbing clit. Moving it in slow, baraly thara circlas and holding ma down so I am unabla to lift my hips or mova closar. I shuddar and moan; my braathing laborad and haavy. "Midas...plaasa."

"Plaasa what?"

I do not know what I am asking for, not axactly so I just rapaat tha word again, a tiny whispar. "Plaasa..."

He raises his head from between my legs. "Good enough."

I can taste myself on his mouth when he kisses me.

He pulls back, drops his trousers to the floor.

My eyes go wide and I momentarily forget how breathing works.

He looks like he was sculpted, not just merely made like the rest of us and the sight of him naked and bare fills me with an unexpected warmth.

He catches my gawking, my mouth half open. "If you do not stop looking at me like that this isn't going to last very long."

I shrug but I can't help it.

I want to touch him, everywhere. To slide my hands against the smoothness of his skin, graze the weathered roughness of his calluses and kiss away his scars.

I want to take him, that velvet, hard length of him in my hand...in my mouth.

But before I can complete the thought, he wraps my legs around his waist again and my arms around his shoulders.

I feel the tip at my entrance, his mouth against my ear. "This might sting a bit."

Then he pushes in, the slippery wetness of my slit making it slightly easier. I feel him tense and shudder against me.

He's filling me with a deliberate, slow gentleness that surprises me and nearly brings tears to the corner of my eyes because how is this brute of a man capable of such delicateness.

I let out a quiet whimper as pain blossoms out, shooting up my spine and his arms tighten around me.

"I've got you."

The last of him slips inside and he stops. Giving me a moment to catch my breath, to learn to accommodate the largeness of him on my inside.

Then he begins moving again, in and out...and in and out.

Slow, languid thrusts until the pain vanishes completely only to be replaced with something much stronger, much more instinctive.

He groans. "By the gods Hera..."

His voice is strained and I can tell how much effort it is taking for him to keep from going faster all at once.

But then I grind my hips against him and he takes the hint, picks up the pace, gradually moving faster and faster and harder until the small table is rocking beneath my weight and the force of his thrusts.

I bury my face in the crook of his neck to muffle my cries of pleasure.

He smells like sweat and pines, safe and warm and....and....

Oh dear Zeus...

My thoughts are beginning to fade as I get closer and closer.

I can feel the muscles of his back tighten beneath my hands and somehow I know he too is very close to tipping completely over the edge.

He just wants me to get there first.

So I let go, my head falling back as stars explode behind my eyes in bursts of white light, wave after wave of blinding pleasure crashing into me.

It feels like drowning and flying all at the same time.

I can sense my hands digging into his back, breaking the skin, drawing blood but I have no control over anything.

Not anymore.

And the last thing I hear is the sound of my name falling from his mouth. Over and over again.