The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

He rubbed hard. The combination of his relentless thrusts and his fingers on her clit drove her completely over the edge.

She came hard.

Her entire body convulsed around him, her muscles clenching so tightly that his movements became almost impossible. She was coming so hard that her vision blurred.

His control shattered completely. His thrusts became almost frantic, almost animalistic, driven by need rather than control. His hand on her clit pressed harder, his other hand gripped her hip so tightly she knew there would be marks. And then he was coming....she could feel it, could feel the pulsing of him deep inside her, could feel the heat of his release spilling into her, filling her completely.

”Fuck, Morgana,” he breathed, his voice barely recognizable.

His movements slowed, became less frantic, became almost tender even in the aftermath of the intensity. His hand on her clit stilled, then moved away. His other hand loosened its grip on her hip, became more of a caress than a command.

But he didn’t pull out of her.

Instead, he kept himself inside her, and with his free hand, he pulled her back against his chest. She was still on her knees, but now he was supporting her weight, holding her against him, keeping her from collapsing completely.

”I’ve got you,” he murmured against her neck, his voice gentle now, tender, nothing like the intensity of moments before.

Her breathing was ragged, almost sobbing in its intensity. Her entire body was shaking, whether from the intensity of the orgasm, from the fever, from the overwhelming sensation of what had just happened, she couldn’t tell. The world was beginning to blur around the edges. Her vision was becoming hazy. Her consciousness was beginning to slip away.

”That’s it,” Thorne said softly, and there was something almost tender in his voice now. Something that belied the intensity of what had just happened.

”Let go, Morgana. Close your eyes.”

She tried to fight it.

But her body had other plans.

”Sleep,” Thorne commanded softly, his voice barely more than a whisper against her ear. ”I’ve got you.”

Her eyes closed and her consciousness slipped away.

***

Thorne held her as she lost consciousness.

He kept himself inside her even as her body went limp against his. His arms wrapped around her, holding her against his chest.

He could feel the marks he’d left on her....the grip marks on her hips where his hands had held her steady, the marks on her thighs from his possession, the marks on her neck from where he’d controlled her, the evidence of his claiming written across her body in marks that would last for days.

And he felt no regret.

Instead, he felt something that might have been satisfaction. Might have been possession. Might have been love in its rawest, most primal form. The ancient dragon inside him was satisfied by what he had just done

”Mine,” he murmured against her neck, his voice barely audible, almost reverent. ”You’re mine, Morgana.”

He held her like that for a long moment, just existing in her warmth against him. He breathed in the scent of her hair, felt the rise and fall of her breath, felt the way her body fit perfectly against his as though she’d been made specifically for this moment, for him and his brothers.

Then, gently, he shifted their position. He pulled out of her slowly, and then he lowered her back down to the bed. He positioned her on her side, arranging the pillows so that she would be completely comfortable, pulling the silk sheets over her to keep her warm. He stayed close to her, his body curved around hers, his arms wrapped around her even in sleep.

His hand came to her forehead, and he was relieved to find that the fever was finally breaking. The cold water, combined with what they had just done had done what the physician intended. She was still warm, but no longer burning.

His hand moved to her cheek, stroking gently, his thumb brushing across her skin with surprising tenderness given what his hands had just done to her.

”Sleep well, Morgana,” he murmured.

And as he held her, as he watched her sleep with the complete vulnerability that only unconsciousness could bring, Thorne smiled and it was a smile of absolute satisfaction.

***

*MORNING*

The first light of dawn filtered through the high windows of Thorne’s chambers, painting the darkness in shades of pale blue and silver. Morgana lay completely curled into his body, her small frame tucked against his chest, her head resting in the hollow of his shoulder as though she’d been made to fit there perfectly.

Thorne’s arms were wrapped around her, one hand splayed across her lower back, the other tangled loosely in her dark hair. Even in sleep, even unconscious, his body kept her close. His dragon nature wouldn’t allow distance. Wouldn’t allow separation.

She slept deeply, completely undisturbed by anything.

Thorne’s dark eyes opened slowly, taking in the sight of her. The marks on her neck. The marks on her shoulders. The evidence of his claiming written across her body in marks that would last for days. Her hair was still damp, spread across the pillows like dark silk. Her lips were slightly parted, her face completely peaceful.

For a long moment, he simply looked at her.

Then a knock came at the door.

It was soft, respectful, but insistent.

Silas’s voice rang out from beyond the chamber: ”My king... Lady Morgana’s maid is here to help her prepare for the day. You also need to attend an important meeting in the throne room this morning.”

Thorne’s jaw tightened. He closed his eyes for just a moment, and the dragon inside him roared in protest...it didn’t want to leave her. Didn’t want to let her go. Wanted to keep her here, wrapped in his arms.

But duty called.

And he was a king first, no matter what his dragon demanded.

He looked down at her one more time. Then carefully he extracted himself from her arms. Her small hand reached for him in her sleep, seeking the warmth he was leaving behind, and he had to grip his teeth to keep himself from simply pulling her back against him.

Instead, he moved to the bathroom.