Free Master of Swords by Angela Knight

pool when she was thirteen. Kid, you think too much , he’d told her. Sometimes it’s better if you just jump in.
    Suddenly determined, Lark put the glass down on the table with a clink. “But now that you mention it, there’s something else I am hungry for.”
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    One minute, Gawain was watching his new apprentice pick at her dinner. The next, he had a lapful of warm woman sitting right on top of his erection. His cock, though frustrated by a zipper and two layers of denim, took this as a good sign. He’d been hard since he’d kissed her.
    Lark’s mouth swooped down over his for a kiss that made his toes curl in his cowboy boots.
    And we have liftoff! Kel made the hissing sound Gawain had come to translate as a Draconian snicker. And on that note, I’m going to bed. Looks like you’ve got it all well in hand .
    The sizzle of background magic that was Kel’s consciousness went silent. The dragon never liked sharing minds while Gawain made love; it reminded him of how much he’d lost.
    Lark, meanwhile, seemed intent on probing Gawain’s mouth with her clever little tongue. Her lips moved over his, sweet and soft and demanding. Every nerve ending he had hummed approval.
    Somewhere in the back of his mind, a little voice asked, Where the hell did this come from?
    He told it to shut up. This was one gift horse he had no intention of looking in the mouth.
    His hands discovered her little backside and found it perfect in those snug black jeans. Rounded cheeks just wide enough to comfortably fill his grip, long legs gripping his thighs with promising enthusiasm.
    And Merlin’s balls, that mouth. Tasting faintly of Emeril’s spaghetti sauce, soft and teasing and just skilled enough. His cock throbbed longingly behind his zipper. His fangs twinged.
    Her stroking tongue discovered one of the sharp points, hesitated, then thrust past it. Gawain groaned into her mouth.
    The Desire roared to full force, demanding he sink himself into her and drive her to a white-hot orgasm. He slid a hand under the hem of her silky top, touched warm skin, and groaned in need.
    â€œYou feel so good,” he whispered against her mouth. “You make my hands shake.”
    She drew back a little, her mouth damp, her eyes slumberous. His hand—and yes, it was trembling—found her breast and cupped her through her bra. Exploring, he discovered the lacy confection had a front closure. He promptly flicked it open and claimed bare flesh.
    To his delight, her nipple rose against his palm, a hard, ripe little berry. Her breath caught. Taking the point between his fingers, he tugged it. She rewarded him with a soft moan.
    Gawain was so hard now, his jeans dug into his erection. Saliva pooled in his mouth. She tilted her head back, panting, and he pressed his mouth to the slender arch of her throat. He could almost taste the blood pulsing against his lips. Enjoying the rich, heated roll of desire, he pressed the points of his fangs to her throat. Just teasing himself.
    She froze. An acrid scent stung his nose.
    Fear.
    He drew back, frowning in puzzlement. Where had that come from? “Lark?”
    She wouldn’t look at him, instead cupping one hand over his as he held her breast. “That feels good. Do it some more.” But her heart hammered against his palm, and somehow he knew it wasn’t from desire.
    â€œWhat’s going on, Lark?”
    Now she did meet his gaze. And lied right to his face. “Nothing.”
    â€œMy ass.” He examined her face grimly. “You’re afraid of me.”
    â€œNo. Of course not.”
    â€œNever lie to a vampire, darling. Even if I couldn’t smell your fear, your heart is hammering like a rabbit’s. What makes you think I’d hurt you? I know you’ve been with Magi be…” His eyes widened as, belatedly, he put two and two together. “It wasn’t a Magus that hurt you.”
    She slumped and