Chapter 111 Chapter 111 The Burn
I swing my front door open and greet Dragon. He’s dressed in all black—again. I’m starting to think he doesn’t own any other color. He smiles as he steps inside, filling the space effortlessly.
“How was your trip?”
“Enlightening,” I grin.
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” he asks, studying me. “There’s something else in your tone.”
He’s too observant for his own good.
“Both. I closed two chapters… because I’m ready to move on.”
He doesn’t push, even though I can tell he wants to. Dragon follows me into the kitchen, keeping just enough distance so he’s not crowding me.
“Are you cooking?” he teases.
“Yes. I hope you like lentils. If not, we can order out,” I say, glancing over my shoulder.
“Never had them.” He pauses. “But it smells amazing.”
I turn to face him, tilting my head. “What do you mean you’ve never had them? You’re Serbian. It’s literally part of your cuisine.”
“Yeah, my dad is. My mom was an American socialite. We had a chef—Italian,” he laughs.
“Well then, we’re fixing that. There are plenty of Balkan restaurants we can try, and I love to cook, so…”
Dragon leans back against the kitchen island, watching me. “The caveman in me… loves seeing you at the stove.”
I shove him playfully. “You’re ridiculous.”
He just grins, completely unbothered.
He helps me set the table, and we sit down, eating in a comfortable silence. I focus on not making any noises while I eat. I literally recorded myself once just to hear it—it’s ridiculous. I’m working on controlling it. There are exceptions, though. Chocolate. Chocolate gets a pass.
After dinner, I load the dishes into the sink. He dries while I wash, and we fall into an easy rhythm, talking about everything except us.
Neither of us brings it up.
When we’re done, I walk him to the door and hold it open. Dragon lingers in the doorway, like he’s not ready to leave but won’t say it.
Before he can turn away, I stop him.
Jax’s voice echoes in my head. Tell him what you want.
God, I hope that advice doesn’t screw me over again.
“Dragon?”
He turns immediately, stepping closer like he was waiting for it.
“Elle?”
“I want to date… exclusively.” My voice wavers just slightly. Not because I’m unsure—but because I’m scared of his answer. “I’m ready.”
He studies me, leaning against the doorframe. “You don’t sound ready.”
God, the way he leans like that… it does things to me. I swear I could melt into the floor.
“I am ready,” I insist. “I’ve been hurt too many times. My track record with guys being faithful is shit. I can’t have biological kids, and there are other things about me…” My words start to unravel as I speak, like I’m losing control of the thread.
Before I can spiral any further, he moves.
Fast.
He steps back inside, shuts the door, locks it. Then he lifts me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around him like they belong there.
His lips crash into mine, cutting me off completely.
I’m pinned against the door, feeling all of him pressed against me, already hardening. His mouth moves down my neck, heat trailing in his wake.
I pull back slightly, breathless. “Let’s try the bed,” I giggle.
He huffs out a quiet laugh, carrying me like I weigh nothing. I give him directions, and he sets me down gently at the edge of the bed.
We undress each other slowly. My hands explore him, learning every inch. Anticipation pools low in my body, heat building as I take him in.
Holy shit.
He’s… perfect. Like Roman—built, carved, every detail intentional. Tattoos, piercings… and that thick, heavy length between his legs.
My breath catches.
We climb onto the bed. He moves over me as I shift back, his lips finding mine again, slower this time. His hand drifts down, deliberate, until he finds exactly where I need him.
He eases his fingers inside me—one, then two, then three—stretching me carefully. His thumb circles my clit, steady and precise, until my body gives in. I come apart under his touch, melting into the mattress.
“You’re so wet,” he murmurs. “Tell me if it hurts… or if you need lube, if you need me stop, stop me.”
I nod, barely able to form words.
He shifts over me, and I spread instinctively, accommodating him. His hand guides himself to my entrance, and then—
Slow.
So slow.
An inch at a time, he pushes inside me, stretching me wider than I’ve ever felt. My body tenses, overwhelmed by the sheer size of him.
“Fuck…” I gasp. “It burns…”
My hands grip his arms, holding on.
“Relax,” he murmurs. “You’re clenching me too tight.”
I force myself to breathe, to let go, to open for him. He moves carefully, pulling back slightly before pushing in deeper, until he’s fully inside me.
The stretch is insane.
Unreal.
He starts slow, gentle thrusts, giving my body time to adjust. With each movement, the tension eases just a little more. He leans down, deepening the kiss, grounding me in it.
I pull back, breath shaky. “Fuck me harder.”
That grin spreads across his face. And then he does. Each thrust hits deeper, fuller, filling me completely in a way no one ever has. My body reacts instantly, spiraling out of control.
“You feel amazing,” he groans.
That’s all it takes.
I break.
My body crashes over the edge, shaking violently as wave after wave hits me. It’s too much—too intense—the mix of pain and pleasure overwhelming every nerve ending. Tears spill from my eyes, my body unable to contain it.
He follows, finishing deep inside me, the warmth spilling between us.
We collapse together, both of us breathing hard, trying to come back down.
“You’re so small…” he says, sitting up slightly, concern creeping into his voice. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you?”
He tries to look, but I snap my thighs closed.
He laughs.
“I’ve seen it before,” he teases. “At least tell me if you’re sore.”
I smirk, catching my breath. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
I pull him back into a kiss, nibbling his full lips. Dragon hardens quickly between us.
"Round two!" he winks, pulling me over him.