by Delta James
When his cock ceased its twitching, both cock and dragon’s tongue withdrew before he tossed her over onto her belly. Taking hold of her hips, he pulled her to her knees. She felt the sculpted point of the still-engorged ridge thrust deep into her pussy as his staff pushed past the tight ring of muscle that guarded her back entrance. Míorúilt cried out, uncertain of whether it was from pain or ecstasy, and climaxed at the double penetration. As it had previously, the dragon’s tongue anchored itself in her vaginal walls, making her scream. Just as the pain began to retreat, the ridge let go, before digging its barb into her again.
Míorúilt wasn’t sure if she wanted to fight him or find a way to offer herself more fully to him, but the rutting and myriad orgasms had exhausted her and stolen not only her strength, but her will to resist him. Kellan continued to take her ass and cunt as the devil’s tongue repeatedly stabbed her, leaving his seed in the furrows it had prepared while still twisted around his cock.
Kellan chuckled. “You do realize, my drakaina, that this breeding is for my pleasure only as I am sure my seed took root in your fertile, virgin ground last night.”
With several more violent thrusts of his cock, she felt his cum begin to bathe her ravaged bottom hole while the dragon’s tongue withdrew from her pussy. She sprawled out in front of him. The only thing keeping her on her knees was Kellan’s iron grip on her hips. When he’d finally expelled all of his essence, he pulled out of her dark passage and patted her bottom before flopping over on his side and drawing her with him.
“Sleep, Míorúilt. I will have need of you shortly.”
Míorúilt had barely closed her eyes before she felt him rolling her onto her belly, kneeling between her legs and pulling her onto her knees. As he grasped her by the hips to steady her, she felt the head of his cock part her feminine folds and seek the entrance to her core before ramming himself to the very back wall of her sheath with a great groan.
Kellan began thrusting hard; each time he drew back, the ridge strafed her inner walls. Míorúilt screamed in both need and discomfort. His last coupling had left her sore, but Kellan’s need to rut, and her own need to be part of this ancient mating ritual, allowed her to ignore any pain and focus instead on the tremendous pleasure he was able to elicit. Harder and harder he pummeled her, holding her steady so she could do nothing other than receive his cock as it hammered her again and again. Míorúilt orgasmed, her pussy trying to capture him as he drove deep; she had already learned that for her there was no ultimate satisfaction until she felt his cum bathing her wrecked pussy. Repeatedly Kellan thrust and withdrew, causing her climaxes to begin to lose their distinctness and meld together. Finally, she felt his cock swell; his hips slammed into her as he began pumping his seed deep into her waiting and pulsing sheath. When at last his staff had deposited the full measure of his seed, he withdrew, purring in satisfaction.
The pattern lasted, and was repeated, for days. Kellan fed her in bed, only allowing her to leave his side to relieve herself and then he roared if he felt she took too long. His need to rut and bring her to mind-numbing orgasms seemed boundless.
“Gods, you feel good,” he growled as he drove his shaft into her sheath, grunting as he began to stroke her tight warmth.
Míorúilt knew she should resent this, should protest his use of her any time he wanted. Had she even made any kind of token resistance to being mounted and feeling him beginning to thrust in and out of her whenever he chose? She knew she hadn’t. In fact, she had welcomed his dominant and repeated possession. There was something about being beneath Kellan or on her knees in front of him that felt right, and she reveled in it. Truth be told, her need to be rutted was now the equal of his need to do so.
Somehow, whenever he entered her, she became something more than just the willing vessel for his carnal satisfaction; she became an integral partner in mutual need. Even though her mind tried to rebel in some token fashion, it was quickly overridden by her body’s response. As often as he had used her over the past few days, she would have thought her pussy incapable of producing any slick to ease his way, but she was wrong. He had more than enough lubrication for his use; she’d been practically dripping each time he sought to make her respond to his dominant lovemaking.
Toward the end of the third day, Kellan plunged in and out of her with less aggression and speed than he had done before. He seemed intent on savoring her, and if she was being fair, on having her enjoy it as well. Míorúilt couldn’t recall ever feeling his cock in the kind of exquisite detail as he moved in her as she did now. All of the textures and blood pulsing throughout the rod that pistoned within her heightened the experience.
He rarely took her on her back. He was able to penetrate her more easily and deeply when he knelt behind her and mounted her from the rear. She had no way to embrace him, no way to do anything other than take what he was giving her. She supposed that was part of what made it easy for her—the raw, primal, almost feral, sexuality. There were no kind words or whispered endearments, just the sounds of his masculine enjoyment as he rutted her.
Míorúilt felt his hips pick up the speed and strength with which they connected with her ass. She found she wasn’t bothered so much by his ability to force her submission, but that she was reveling in it. Were it not for the latter, the former could be easily explained away as a purely physiologically response to his skills as a lover. Never before had she felt so alive; never had she wanted to dismiss her own intellectual or emotional needs in order to find ways to please him. He had awoken in her a profound desire to have her own needs overshadowed by his and to capitulate to his will.
As he drove into her harder and faster, her body ramped up its response and lost its soft compliance as it began to climb steadily toward a resolution that only Kellan could fulfill. His cock rasped along her interior lining ensuring she experienced the change in the way he used her. Gone were the long, slow strokes; he had replaced them with deep, harsh pounding as his body prepared to empty his seed into her.
He didn’t speak at all, just grunted and growled as he thrust with more deliberation and power. Her sheath seized in spasmodic rhythm all along his length. As the head of his cock hit her cervix, he slammed the base of it into the entrance to her core. She could feel the base swelling as it prepared for his release. Míorúilt’s entire body convulsed as she came hard for him calling his name. He gushed his semen into her in what seemed to be a non-ending torrent, growling in pleasured satisfaction as he did so.
Kellan was lying on his back with Míorúilt snuggled up next to him, his one hard thigh nestled between her legs as she lay half on top of him. He had allowed her some rest for the past few hours and stroked her back and bottom, often sliding one finger between her ass cheeks to play with her dark rosebud. She no longer offered him any resistance.
“My beautiful drakaina,” he said huskily. “How you please your lord and master.”
“You are not my lord and master,” she growled low and threateningly, causing him to chuckle.
“But I am, and you are the willing and cherished vessel for my lust, the mother of my heirs and daughters, and the great lady of our clan. They will sing your song for all eternity. The last surviving drakaina of the original age of dragons. We will watch our offspring and their offspring thrive in this new world and restore order and prosperity to our people.”
Míorúilt woke to find herself nestled in Kellan’s arms. She knew by the way he had lazily taken her earlier that morning that the rut was beginning to abate. She didn’t know how many days had passed as time had lost its meaning. She only hoped it had been long enough that if he revisited the number of women, she could hold out to give Caitlyn the time she needed to get away and live free.
As she sat up, Kellan reached up, twisting several strands of her hair between his fingers and smiled indulgently. “My sweet Míorúilt. I will go upstairs and tell Donnacha that he can take his leave. As much as I would like to keep you in our bed and rut our lives away, that cannot be. You c
an rest if you like. When there is food, I will bring it down to you if you have not joined me.”
She watched him rise and stretch, his muscles rippling as he did so. Much as she tried, she could not find it within herself to hate him. She wasn’t always fond of his arrogance, but in his own way he was kind to her... and she did enjoy coupling with him. Kellan had a way of loving her so thoroughly that when she was within his arms, nothing else mattered. Míorúilt shook her head. She needed to keep her wits about her. She had to try to figure out how to keep Kellan from stumbling upon the truth of Caitlyn’s existence, freeing the women of the Sanctuary if at all possible, and escaping the life that Kellan had seemed to have imposed on her. The main problem with the latter was that she was no longer sure if that wasn’t a future she, herself, wanted.
Chapter Twelve
Kellan emerged from the dungeon and acknowledged Donnacha before heading to the edge of the island and diving into the sea. He washed away the vestiges of the rut and cleared his mind. He smiled. It was difficult to clear his mind of the images and memories of the time he had spent with Míorúilt in the throes of the rut. He had not had to force her compliance; instead, she had given herself to him fully and had seemed to revel in it the same way as he.
Once he was clean, Kellan dipped back below the waves, shifted into his dragon, and took to the skies in exhilaration to patrol a wider perimeter than Donnacha would have been able to see. It also allowed him to look at the strategic layout of his ruined stronghold. There did seem to be a protuberance from the mainland that was not that far underwater. He would need to have it filled in and a road built in order that the keep was accessible to his people.
He was headed back to Míorúilt when the roar of a dragon split the sky. He turned back toward it ready to fight, but quickly abandoned the idea. He could see Gideon in the distance, with what appeared to be his mate at his side and a small child on his back. It was easy to discern that the drakaina that flew at his side was his mate as unlike dragon-born drakaina, who were black, those turned to dragons were the base color of the one who had turned them with usually a lighter version of that color banding the edges. It would seem that Gideon had lost no time in finding and claiming a mate. Kellan returned the greeting and the three of them headed to the island, the little girl on Gideon’s back giggling in sheer delight. The three landed and the little girl and the drakaina withdrew behind a small piece of wall still standing.
Seeing Donnacha at the ready, Kellan shifted and called to him. “There is no need for concern. This is Gideon, Lord of the Earth, his mate, and...”
“Our daughter, Ciara. My Bridget was a wolf-shifter and mated to a powerful chieftain who was killed in battle,” Gideon said, smiling.
Kellan pulled on a pair of breeches and threw Gideon a pair.
“My thanks,” he said, walking over and embracing Kellan. “It would seem you too are awake. It has been too long, my brother. How long have you been apart from the land of dreams?”
“Not long. I saw your and Elspeth’s notes when I awoke and made my way south.”
“Your castle seems to be in a greater state of disarray than mine was.”
“I have only just returned and like you took no time in taking a mate and breeding her.”
Bridget and Ciara came from out of earshot behind the wall and joined them.
“And did you ask your new mate her thoughts on the matter of being turned?” asked Bridget.
Gideon growled low in his throat.
“Papa didn’t ask Mother about whether or not she wanted to be a dragon in addition to being a wolf, did he, Mama?” piped up Ciara.
Kellan smiled. Gideon had found himself a spirited mate with a wolf-child for a daughter... the child would be a sought-after mate in the years to come. He didn’t envy the man, dragon, wolf, or otherwise who sought to take Gideon’s child as a mate. It was obvious he had given his heart to both mother and child.
Kellan crossed and took Bridget’s hand in his, kissing the back of it.
“There was no need to ask,” Kellan said smoothly.
“Oh, but there was,” challenged Bridget.
“Bridget, you will apologize and mind your tongue,” growled Gideon.
“There is no need, brother,” he said before turning back to Bridget. “And there was no need to ask as my mate is dragon-born.” Kellan turned his back and let that sink in. “Donnacha, see if you can’t prepare something for our guests. I will go below and get Míorúilt so that she might join us.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Kellan heard Gideon laugh. “Go below? You are keeping your mate in the dungeon?”
“He’s what?” exclaimed Bridget. Turning to Ciara, she continued, “Sweetheart, why don’t you go see if you can help the nice man while I try to knock some sense into your papa’s and Lord Kellan’s heads.”
“It would seem, my brother, that your mate has spirit,” laughed Kellan as he descended the steps.
He caught scent of her and recognized she was in dragon form, immediately before the small casket containing her things connected with the back of his skull. The blow staggered him but did not render him unconscious. It did, however, render him unable to react with the speed required to stop Míorúilt from sprinting up the stairs and taking flight. Kellan heard Gideon roar and take off in pursuit.
Donnacha came rushing down the stairs. “My lord, are you all right? Lord Gideon has gone after your lady and his mate has gone after him.”
Kellan rubbed his head where she had struck him. “I’m fine. Look after Gideon’s daughter. I will go help him bring our two fractious mates back here to deal with, and we will decide what is to be done next. But mark my words, your lady will not sit without pain this evening.”
Gideon removed his breeches, shifted, and rushed up the stairs in order to take to the skies and recapture his mate. He could feel arousal swirled with anger coursing through his system. He wouldn’t just recapture his mate; he would reclaim her as well. Apparently, the rut hadn’t settled her as much as he might have liked. As he flew in pursuit of the other three dragons, he began to question whether her seeming capitulation to him hadn’t been part of a plan to get him to relax his vigilance and to deflect his questions about the missing girl, whom he had almost forgotten.
* * *
Míorúilt knew that a dragon other than Kellan was in pursuit. How had she gone from thinking there were no other dragons to being claimed by one and now having another—she glanced back—no, two others in pursuit. When the sounds of Kellan’s distinctive cry reached her, it was as though she could feel it... much the same way she did when he growled, rumbled, or purred at her. It made her falter in her flying, but she quickly recovered. She beat her wings harder and faster but could tell that Kellan and the dragon closest to her were gaining. Míorúilt knew in open air, she had no chance at freedom and so banked hard to the east hoping to get to the cliffs of Raicleach—a unique maze of sea cliff face, deep canyons, and craggy overhangs just above the sea that she hoped would be difficult to navigate unless one was intimately familiar with them... someone like Míorúilt.
She heard what sounded like some kind of altercation and risked another glance in the direction of those that pursued her. Unless she was mistaken, the smallest of the three dragons that were chasing her had engaged the one closest to her in some kind of aerial duel. Míorúilt had no idea why but was grateful for any assistance. Kellan avoided becoming entangled with the fighting pair and redoubled his efforts to catch her.
Míorúilt could feel his presence and the roar had dulled to an angry rumble as Kellan closed in. She knew that he would be extending his talons to reach out and pluck her from the air. Just as he was about to close the noose, she darted down and away and into the labyrinth of land and sea. Kellan bellowed in anger and frustration. Míorúilt knew if he managed to get her back in his clutches, she would be in for a welting and be more closely guarded.
Apparently, the rock formations had changed during the ti
me Kellan had slept. He missed several key turns and his wings skimmed the top of the water more than once, slowing him down. Míorúilt had flown in this rocky warren ever since she had learned she was a dragon. It was where she had honed her flying skills. She felt as though she was making headway when suddenly large shards of what appeared to be sea glass blocked her way. Where had they come from? They had never been here before.
Míorúilt veered away from them and then darted through another opening in the stone pillars. Before she could clear the overhang, another jagged fence of sea glass landed before her. It took all of her speed and skill to avoid colliding with them. She tried turning back, but again, the exit was barred by the sparkling splinters that glistened in the sun. Frustrated, Míorúilt screeched in desperation. She shot for the only other opening and just missed being hit by the sea glass. Now the only way out was a small opening directly overhead. She was quite certain her mate would be waiting for her, but she had no other chance at escape. She flew in an ever tightening and faster spiral upward so that when she emerged from what she had thought would be a hiding place, she was going at full speed. As she had feared, Kellan was waiting for her.
She had barely cleared the rock when Kellan’s claws latched onto her and her bid for freedom was curtailed. This time she didn’t even struggle. She had learned he was bigger and stronger and had no problem with enforcing his will. As they approached the keep, she saw a man and a woman standing together. Even a casual observer could tell the man was not happy with the woman whose hand he held.