Her Dragon Captor (Her Dragon King Duet Book 1): 50 Loving States, North Dakota Pt. 1

by Theodora Taylor

  “Bathroom lock,” the dragon towering over me says, the words precise and clipped.

  The doors answering electronic whir tells me why my plan never would have worked. He’s got the house on voice command. Fucking bastard!

  But it’s just me and that fucking bastard now. And the heat pulsing like a violent animal between us.

  He goes back over to the chair and turns it to face me with precise, deliberate movements. Then he sits down and beckons me forward. Like a king on his throne. His eyes hot and hungry. For me.

  My entire body trembles with the effort not to respond to that raw hunger, not to let him consume me. I shouldn’t… I can’t… I somehow manage to drag myself all the way on to the bed. There I lie back and close my eyes, blocking him out as I try to come up with a new plan.

  But of course, I can’t think. About anything but the small piece of engorged flesh now pulsing like the deepest hip-hop beat between my legs. My body has become one big nerve-ending. Begging to be touched. To be invaded. To be mated. Even by a dragon.

  I fist my hands in the covers to keep myself from going to him. But I can no longer control my body. My back arches and my hips jack off the bed, circling in the air with the need to be mated. And my eyes tear with the effort to keep myself from bounding off the mattress.

  “Why do you torture yourself?” Damianos asks, with what sounds like genuine curiosity. “This is what you she-wolves were designed for, you know. To breed above all else. And the king of your maker requires your services. You should rush to attend to me, instead of clinging to your silly pride.”

  Silly, he calls it.

  This fucking bitch.

  “Yes, you’re right, I should rush to fulfill my one dream in life. Fucking a fifteen-thousand-year-old virgin,” I say. The sheer meanness of my answer salves my wounded pride. “Fensa said she had to teach Xenon everything from the ground up. And I get the feeling you’re one of those entitled bitches who hasn’t even watched a single how to please a woman video. I bet that’s the real reason you want me to come to you. You wouldn’t even know what to do with a female if you had her, you old-ass incel.”

  There comes a long moment of silence. Dangerous and burning.

  Then: “Thank you for saying that, Ola. I will enjoy your utter humiliation even more now. It is 11:15. I predict you will give up within the half-hour.”

  Bad…stupid…prediction…. I’m going to hold on. I’m going to hold on as long as it takes.

  My wolf is fighting me. My body is fighting me. But I’m going to hold on.

  And that’s exactly what I do. I grit my teeth and ignore the waves of lust crashing over my body. The world becomes the fight, and hours pass as I battle my wolf and all the pheromones raging through my body. But eventually, the heat lets up, and I look at the clock, victorious and drenched in sweat. “See, I told you I would hold...”

  The “out” fades away when I see the time.

  11:28.

  And not 11:28 the next morning. Thirteen minutes. Only thirteen minutes have passed since I decided to die rather than give in.

  And that’s when I suddenly realize something that I didn’t in that sophomore year health class.

  Could…

  The teachers and the textbooks said a she-wolf could die if she wasn’t mated.

  But in all the examples of bad mateships I’ve studied, I’ve never seen a history or even a fiction about a she-wolf dying from not mating when she was in heat. And that’s because it’s never happened.

  This is what you she-wolves were designed for, you know, to be bred above all else.

  Above all else.

  That could had only been theory, I realize now. At a biological level, I can’t die by not mating with Damianos, just like I couldn’t die by holding my breath. Because on a biological level I won’t be able to keep myself from mating with Damianos.

  But maybe…once won’t be enough to get me pregnant. If I can fuck him just long enough to regain my composure.

  The strain to control myself gives away and the tears in my eyes become real as I give in and climb out of the bed. Not a crying-ass bitch, so I don’t let them fall. But God I hate myself, hate my design as I move toward him.

  “Yes, Ola, come to me.” His dark voice says, pulling at me. Like a puppeteer’s string.

  My legs are so weak now, they give out.

  If I’m expecting Damianos to feel sorry for me, forget that. His dark laugh provides the soundtrack as I crawl on my hands and knees over to his chair.

  When I reach him, he holds up a hand and rises from his seat.

  He’s so much larger than me. Especially from my position on the ground. It’s like watching a mountain grow even taller. Shame and humiliation wash over me as I watch him remove his shirt. His face is a good con job, thanks to his capped tongue and the teeth that, unlike Xenon’s have apparently been shaven down from razor points. But his lower torso doesn’t look like anything approaching a human’s. Technically he has abs, but they’re covered in some type of pale white scales.

  That’s a lot to process, but my mind completely stops when he pushes down his pants.

  Okay, what am I seeing?

  What. Am. I. Seeing?

  I thought I was mistaken when I grabbed him inside his Greek villain fortress, but I wasn’t.

  He’s packing two cocks. One of which is visibly moving. The first dick is heavy and thick. It’s not scaled, but it has the same pale white coloring as his belly and it’s so perfectly smooth it put me in mind of marble. Throbbing marble. But if the first dick is pulsing, the second one is full-on squirming. Long but thinner than the first one, it seems to be straining to find something.

  And I’m pretty sure that something is me.

  My mind blanks. I can feel my human trying to shut us down. To scream uncontrollably. Then faint.

  But my wolf growls hungrily inside of me. Too dumb and feral with lust to even care that it’s staring down, not one, but two dragon dicks.

  And when he returns to his seat and says, “Come, Ola,” my wolf springs us into his lap, making us little more than a beast at his command.

  “You will join with me now,” he orders. “Take my seed.

  His dark words turn me frantic for some reason. And the next thing I know, I’m doing exactly as he commands. Lifting up my hips and taking his overlarge top dick in one hand.

  Oh, Fenrir Wolf…he so thick. It both looks and feels like I’m splitting myself open as I guide him into my virgin pussy.

  There’s a burst of pain as I set myself down on it. My first time is taking place on way too large a dick. But instead of protesting, I let out a long keen of aching need. Then I start moving up and down on his too big dick with ragged, jerking strokes.

  “Yes, yes, Ola,” his dark voice croons. “Take my seed. Fuck me until I spill into your womb. Your belly will be full of my child as I exact my ultimate revenge upon your fathers. You are my reward for my patience. This child will be the trophy I hold above my head when the final battle is done.”

  My eyes fill up with tears again, but my wolf…. I can’t stop fucking him. “Shut up,” I whisper. “Just stop talking while I’m fucking you.”

  To my surprise, he does just that. And for the next few humiliating minutes, all that can be heard is the frantic slap of my hips as I chase a climax I’ve only ever read about.

  I chase and chase it, only to freeze when the second dick lodges itself into the bottom of my slit, stimulating me down there, while the too big one rubs into my clit.

  Just like that, the climax is caught. I hold onto Damianos, calling out nonsense as the climax rockets through me.

  The pleasure. It’s the opposite of everything that’s come before it. Relief, and happiness, and a sudden release of all emotions and desires. I am suddenly no longer the humiliated wolf. And he is no longer the haughty dragon. We just are. I hold on to him and he holds on to me. One being joined together in the creation of life.

  I close my eyes again, but
this time I’m not fighting this. I’m totally at peace. It’s like I’ve been on a lifelong journey and I’ve finally found my way home.

  But then he begins to swell inside of me, and my eyes pop back open. Like, super wide.

  Oh God, he’s knotting inside of me. Like a wolf. But not quite. His cock stretches me past all imagined limits, but instead of a knot, what feels like dozens of soft spikes suddenly spring up on its hood.

  I don’t realize my hips were still dumbly moving up and down until his swollen spike dick abruptly locks me in place.

  It doesn’t hurt. In fact, the way the soft spikes rub against all my vagina’s secret erogenous zones makes the new deeper sensations building up inside of me even more pleasurable.

  At least at first. It’s nice in the beginning, but it quickly becomes too much. He’s electricity inside of me, lighting me up and stopping my heart. I whimper and scratch at his back, trying to get away and trying to take him deeper at the same time.

  Then I come again. So hard, it’s blinding.

  I think he’s suffering, too. “My queen,” he bites out, his normally sonorous voice, coarse and ragged. Just as I’m coming down from my second orgasm, his large dragon dick kicks inside of me, and I feel an almost scalding hot torrent of cum release into my womb.

  And oh God, I’m coming again. Even worse than before. It feels like my mind is unraveling as the third orgasm rips through me. Pain and pleasure. Pleasure and pain. I no longer know the difference.

  There’s only this very, very wrong thing with the dragon.

  And then everything goes dark.

  Chapter Sixteen

  DAMIANOS

  I sit in the chair with her cradled in my arms for a too long time.

  To keep her from falling, I tell myself. Not because I’ve never experienced anything as sensational as the feel of her milking my primary cock, even as she sleeps.

  Yet when her female works finally loosen, allowing me to move from within her folds, I don’t.

  For another too long time I hold her close, reveling in her warmth. Reliving those moments of connection we shared when she reached her first peak.

  When she held onto me as she did, all my schemes…all my ultimate revenge plans…they had fallen away. Like so much ash.

  In those moments it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. And that scares me even more than not being able to figure out how to let her go.

  This she-wolf is inferior. A crass hothead who does not deserve my attention, much less to carry my progeny.

  Yet…she makes me want things beyond the single-minded goal I have carried with me for years. Impossible things I shouldn’t even be considering.

  “Reverence,” I allow myself to hiss into her ear in the old language.

  The one word feels like smoke held far too long inside my lungs and then finally let out.

  No, I do not let her go.

  At least not right away.

  And therein lies the problem.

  OLA

  I wake up with a start. Then groan when I try to move. I used to love running marathons back before I began my royal apprenticeship with Uncle Kyle. And right now it feels like I’ve run another one. But this time with my pussy instead of my legs.

  I’m completely naked for some reason and my body smells like…I sniff. Soap. Pure soap. Without any extra fragrance or anti-viral chemicals inside of it, like most shower gels. Did somebody bathe me?

  The confusion gets even worse when I try to rub my tired eyes.

  Only the yank of the chain, keeps me from taking a cuff of silver directly to my lids.

  At first, I’m confused.

  Then I just wish I was.

  It all comes flooding back. Jumping the dragon king's bones. Fucking him and fucking him, even as he told me about how he was going to kill my whole family.

  When was that? This afternoon? Yesterday?

  I look to the window for some context clues. But all I see is dark beyond the windows. Both starless and moonless.

  Like my current state of mind, after impaling myself on the dick of my fathers’ greatest enemy. The guy who told me about how my belly would be full of his baby when he slaughtered my whole family…

  For a few moments, shame and guilt threaten to overwhelm me, to drown my soul, and completely break my mind.

  But no, Ola, not now. You’re not a crying-ass bitch, remember?

  Something inside me rallies up a strong face emoji. I’m a queen now, so I’m gonna have to save the nervous breakdowns for later. After I figure out how to escape.

  I stop the mind unravel with a big sniff of air. Okay, good…

  It doesn’t matter what time it is. The main thing is I don’t smell any extra pheromones on me. That means I’m not pregnant.

  Great. So I’m not a complete traitor to my race and family.

  But this reprieve from the heat won’t last long. I need to get out of here. Pronto, before the dragon comes ba—

  The bedroom door clicks open on that thought, and the air fills with the smell of fire and ash.

  “You are finally awake. Good. You will eat. Then we will wait for your next heat to commence.”

  I blink of the sight of him. He’s carrying a tray piled sky high with more food than I could ever eat in one sitting, but that’s not what I’m blinking at.

  Okay, I know I’ve been comparing him to, like, the grandmackdaddy of Greek statues since I saw him in the club. But the sight of him makes me think about the debate that raged over whether to put underwear on the rebooted version.

  In the case of the New Colossus of Rhodes, the prudes who crowdsourced the project won out.

  But the Greek statue standing in front of me is exactly what all the historians consulting on the project claims a man from that era would have been underneath his clothes. Full commando.

  With one super important distinction. There was now nothing hanging down between his legs. He looks like the Greek statue version of a Ken Doll…no nipples on his chest and pale white scales where his abs and pelvis should be. Also, I’m pretty sure New Rhodey doesn’t have webbed feet.

  Have I said what the Fenrir wolf enough yet? Here’s one more: What the freaking Fenrir Wolf?!

  So many questions, but “Hey, where did your dicks go?” ends up winning out.

  “Unlike your poorly-designed species, drakkon keep their male works tucked away until they are ready to procreate.”

  “But your dicks were out when I copped a feel back at your villain lair.”

  An irritated look flickers across his face. And instead of answering, he sets down the tray. “Eat now.”

  The scent of lamb dripping in olive oil and rosemary hits my nose as I pull the meal into my lap.

  I’m glad for the food but sad to see there’s no silverware on the tray. Just cubes of cheese and a mountain of dates and dried apricots.

  Too bad, I could have used a knife or a fork as a weapon.

  “If there is something you’d rather eat, I will relay your preferences to Colby.”

  “I get a say in what I get to eat?”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “Well, I kind of figured there would be more starvation and torture involved. Fensa had to teach Xenon all sorts of tricks to help him get over the multi-century mind fuck you did on him.”

  If I’m expecting contrition, I’m soon disabused of that notion. “He betrayed his race in favor of yours. He deserved a much worse punishment than he received.”

  “Okay, then why didn’t you just kill him instead of keeping him chained up?”

  “I wanted him to be there when I enacted my final revenge. To see that his machinations were futile and that those he attempted to save would all die in the end despite his interference.” the dragon king’s voice is as dark and ominous as his answer.

  “Wow, this revenge of yours is covering a lot of territory,” I say, rubbing at my free wrist. “My dads, my brother-in-law, and now me. What exactly do you have planned for all of us?”


  “You’ll find out soon enough,” he answers. “Especially if you refuse to behave.”

  His tone is soft and quiet, but it sends a shiver down my back.

  “Enough questions. You must eat.”

  He’s right. I’ve got to keep my strength up if I’m going to figure out how to escape. And the lamb tastes heavenly, total restaurant quality. “That kid you have driving you around and burying bodies made this?” I ask when I’m done chewing the first few delicious bites.

  “Yes, all the modern Colbys train with chefs from the time they enter primary school. They believe it is simply a hobby until they discover it is not.”

  All the Colbys…

  “That old guy who led my sister up the stairs in your castle? His name was Colby, too?”

  “Yes, he died.” An unreadable look passes over his face. “The new Colby is his son.”

  “Oh…” I say, but then I frown. “Wait, the old servant died, and the son just agreed to take his place?”

  “There was no agreement necessary. When one Colby dies the son takes over his position. The Colby line of first-born sons has belonged to me since what your country refers to as the middle ages.”

  “The Colby line has belonged to you since medieval times?” I repeat, not quite understanding. Then suddenly I do. “Wait, are you trying to say you’ve been enslaving Colby and his ancestors for hundreds of years?”

  He stiffens. Then nods at the almost empty plate in my lap. “Finish your food.”

  “I don’t want to eat. I feel sick to my stomach just thinking about that poor boy you’ve enslaved. You get that I’m half black, right? We don’t do slavery.”

  “Black,” he repeats. “Are you referring to the color of your epidermis?”

  My eyes widen. Is he serious? “Yes, I’m referring to the color of my skin and the skin of my ancestors who were brought over here in boats to serve masters they didn’t want to work for until the Civil War.”

  “The Civil War…oh, so now we are conversing about one of the many atrocities you upright primates have visited upon each other? I see.”