The Alpha of Bleake Isle (Dragonkin, #1)

by Kathryn Moon

I forgot my goal of exploring his wings at the sight of the quick dip against his thighs, also decorated with dark curling hair, and my hand reached out of its own accord, helping itself to a squeeze of his flesh. Ronson chuckled into the bed, and his hips flexed, tightening and changing the shape of the thick muscle under my hand. "That's not my wing⁠—"

I love how she knows what she wants, even in this first bedding. Is one of the sweetest “first times” I know of.

You have my fire, Lord Cadogan, Alpha of Bleake Isle."

What a perfect dragon-ish statement of loyalty: you have my fire in battle.

I'm going a bit…" He grimaced, and I couldn't help but settle my hands against his cheeks, smoothing my fingers over the short bristles of his beard. "Mairwen," he sighed out, eyes sliding shut. "Tell me it's my turn to explore."

Go Mairwen!

"You're sweeter right here. Right at the tip," Ronson whispered, the tip of his tongue circling first one tight, aching peak, and then the other. "Mmm, such a pretty color too."

“Sweeter right here” Gah, Ronson is so deliciously besotted.

"Ronson, are you alive?" Niall's voice called through the wood. "Leave," I called back, my voice rough and crackling. His voice muttered something inaudible, but his steps retreated with a final parting shot of, "It's been three weeks."

Time flies….

"Forgive my impertinence, Omega Cadogan, but would you lift your breasts for me?" I ignored my blush and raised my hands to my chest, lifting the heft of my breasts and trying not to imagine what Ronson would say about this situation. "Yes. I see. We need support, not constraint." Miss Pettyfer flicked her measuring tape and squared her shoulders. "Hold that position, please. We have a few more measurements to take."

Having fitted and sewn my own corset, this interaction is so familiar.

At last. At last. At last.

🩷