Playing With Fire - Katie MacAlister [79]
He gave it to me then, fed me his dragon fire until it washed over us in a blaze of ecstasy. He was the dragon fire, surrounding me, on me, inside me, every inch of my being bound so tightly with his, we were the flames, dancing higher and higher until we burst into a million little sparks, separate, but whole.
Pain, sharp and hot, lit the back of my shoulder, but it faded almost instantly as I let myself go, drifting slowly back down into my body as an ember from a bonfire lazily wafts it way back to earth.
The bed was not on fire, I was pleased to note. Neither were the curtains, chair, or wardrobe.
Flames licked down the length of Gabriel’s body as he collapsed onto his back, the fine sheen of sweat that covered him instantly vaporizing.
My body felt heavy and dull as compared to the bright phoenix we had been together, even as little tremors of pleasure, orgasmic aftershocks, made me cognizant of the truth of Gabriel’s warnings of rough lovemaking.
‘‘You’re on fire,’’ I said, rolling onto my other side in order to face him.
His eyes were closed, his chest heaving as he sucked in huge quantities of air. He cracked one eye open to look at me, his dimples popping into life as he closed it again. ‘‘Thank you. I endeavor to please you, little bird, although you are a demanding woman. It takes my full energy to sate your many desires.’’
I rolled my eyes at that gross exaggeration, stroking my hand down his still-burning chest. ‘‘I meant literally.’’
He opened an eye again, this time to glance down at himself. ‘‘Am I? How very curious. It must have something to do with you.’’
I patted out the flames on his chest and belly, the rest of the fire dying out. ‘‘Me? I don’t see how. You’re the dragon—you’re the one who has dragon fire.’’
He wrapped an arm around me and pulled me up close to his body, arranging me so that I lay draped over him before closing his eyes again, sighing in happiness. ‘‘This has never happened to me with another woman. It must be because you are my mate. When you give the fire back to me, it’s more than what it started out as.’’
‘‘More?’’ I drew a lazy circle around the pert brown nipple that lay next to my mouth, considering whether or not I had the energy to taste it.
‘‘More.’’ One hand lifted and made a vague gesture. ‘‘It’s . . . purer. More powerful. Something more than what it starts out as. I can’t really explain it. It’s just . . . more.’’
‘‘Ah.’’ I smiled at his nipple, oddly proud.
‘‘What are you doing?’’ he asked suspiciously, lifting his head to peer down at me.
‘‘Smiling at your nipple. I was wondering what you taste like.’’
His eyes, a sleepy, slumbering silver, sparked with interest. ‘‘Foreplay?’’
‘‘This, my dragon, is afterplay,’’ I said, moving so that I straddled his thighs. I leaned down to lick his nipple, but before I could capture it, a familiar tingling started up my back. Dread swept over me as I swore, threw myself over the edge of the bed, blindly grabbing for the blankets we’d pushed off the bed during our lovemaking.
‘‘May? What’s the—’’
The tingling increased to a painful pitch as the world seemed to give a shudder, then twisted into a gut-wrenching parody of reality. I was jerked out of the room at Drake’s house, and deposited naked, clutching a blanket, onto a cool tile floor.
‘‘I see you’ve changed your mind about me. I’m delighted, although I would have preferred a little warning of your intentions,’’ a smooth, suave voice spoke.
The chill from it caused my skin to prickle as I twisted the blanket around me toga-style. My dignity was shredded, but I managed to get off the floor with the blanket intact. I glared at the man who stood in front of me, his hair slicked back from his forehead, his dark, deep-lidded eyes promising all sorts of carnal pleasures.
I said the first thing that came to mind. ‘‘I never liked you in that movie about the Arab chieftain, you know. You were bearable in the sequel, but the first one? The word ‘ham’ comes to mind.’’
Magoth bristled, the air cooling at least ten