‘‘I will give you foreplay when this is over,’’ he said, his breath hot on the back of my neck as he slid one arm underneath my waist, pulling my upper leg back over his thigh. ‘‘I will arouse you then, but first, I must join with you.’’

I wanted to point out that any such activity would technically be afterplay, not foreplay, but my brain was too overloaded with the sensations he was generating to form words. The position was a little awkward, leaving me to clutch the sheets as he searched for entrance, and then found it, his body hard behind and in me, muscle and tissue parting to allow him access to areas that went beyond a mere physical body. Gabriel had used the word ‘‘joining,’’ and as his hips flexed, making long, slow strokes into me, his mouth hot on my neck while his hands found my breasts, I understood just what he meant by it. I arched backward, tilting my hips back to take in more of him in a wordless demand. He growled against my neck, the long, tanned fingers tightening on my breasts.

I sucked in my breath not only at the sensation of his hands, but at the feeling of fullness deep within me. Gone were the long, slow movements meant to arouse—his body pistoned into me in an act of possession, my body welcoming each blow with a thousand little jolts of pleasure. I gasped again, a tight ball forming that seemed to draw in every nerve in my body.

Gabriel’s breath was harsh, coming in primitive little groans as he sucked the skin of my neck, his tongue leaving long, wet streaks.

One hand slid off my breast, down to my belly, probing and parting delicate flesh to find the center of my pleasure.

‘‘Mayling, I cannot wait,’’ he moaned.

I tightened every muscle I had around him, arching my back, my hands clawing at the sheets as the ball of passion deep inside me threatened to explode. ‘‘Fire,’’ I gasped, barely able to form a coherent sentence. ‘‘I want your fire. I need your fire.’’

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.