Page 27 of Kiss of Embers

Lust and shame flickered in Struan’s eyes. After almost a century together, I knew the latter fed the former, which was why I wasn’t surprised when he moaned softly as he rotated in place, looking hot and ridiculous in nothing but a pair of athletic socks.

I kept my gaze on him, but I tuned my senses to the jungle outside the tent, where our nosy female was undoubtedly getting a good look at his flushed face and stiff, leaking cock.

Anticipation built in my chest. Aye, I was every bit the wicked bastard Struan claimed, because I couldn’t wait to find out what made Zara’s cheeks turn pink. What made her wet. Made her desperate.

Struan completed his circuit, his expression pleading as he faced me once more.

“On your knees,” I said.

He sank to the carpet in one smooth, elegant movement, his gaze never leaving mine. He kept his arms loose at his sides, his shoulders back.

“Knees wider.”

A frown flashed through his eyes, the expression there and quickly gone. But not quickly enough. His pulse fluttered in the thick column of his throat as he moved his knees apart.

“Wider,” I said, scarcely able to keep my hand off my cock. It strained against my pants as Struan obeyed even though he didn’t want to.

His fault. He knew better than to signal when he didn’t like something. It was a surefire way to make me order him to do it again.

“Wider.”

Struan’s nostrils flared as he obeyed. Even with a dragon shifter’s balance, he struggled to hold the position, his chest heaving and his fingers twitching at his sides.

I clucked my tongue. “This is too hard for you. Go to your hands, but keep your knees exactly as they are.”

He hesitated for a single heartbeat. Then, face flaming, he followed the command. Now, he was on his hands and knees, his legs wide and his ass pointed toward the tent’s entrance. His cock hung heavy between his legs, the tip shiny with precome. If I circled him, I knew I’d see his cheeks spread, his tight hole exposed to anyone passing the tent.

Or hiding in the shadows just outside of it.

As if Nature approved of my tactics, the breeze picked up again, sending a stream of damp air into the tent. The gust carried the scent of apple blossoms and feminine arousal into my nostrils, and I suppressed a groan.

Struan wasn’t as successful. His moan filled the tent. Trembling, he hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut. A thick bead of moisture swelled at his slit.

“You’re very hard,” I said. “Is there something you want?”

He lifted burning eyes to mine. “Let me suck you.”

My cock pressed hard against my zipper. Struan was a dream, all his muscle and power bent and displayed for my pleasure—and Zara’s. He wouldn’t move until I said. He wouldn’t dare.

“All that’s missing is a collar,” I said, and he gasped, his dick swaying slightly. “A collar and a leash. Maybe a harness. Would you like that?”

“If you would.” He dipped his gaze to my groin, the longing in his eyes intensifying. “Please, Finn. Whatever you want, just let me make you come.”

I pointed to the carpet at my feet. “Crawl.”

He crawled, his cock and balls swinging between his legs. Moonlight sheened his shoulders and glinted in his dark hair. His breathing was ragged as he hesitated, waiting for my next command.

“Please let me touch you,” he whispered.

“No hands.”

He pressed his face to my groin, nuzzling my dick through my pants.

A guttural moan escaped my lips, and I had to squeeze the edge of the table so I wouldn’t touch him. Fire streaked through me, like someone putting a blowtorch to my nerve endings. I clenched my jaw against the need to feel Struan’s tongue and the hot cave of his mouth. The torture was exquisite.

So was he. Big and blushing and so very obedient. He rubbed his face all over my erection, every rasp of his stubble against my pants highlighting the lurid contrast between his nudity and my fully clothed state.

After a minute, the torture was too much to bear. I gripped his hair and yanked his head back.