Romance: Bought by the Dragon: BBW Dragon Shifter Romance Standalone (Paranormal Romance) (Studly Shifters Book 2)

by Ashley Hunter

  He hesitated. She squirmed slightly with curiosity and an awkward sense that she had once again touched a particularly sensitive nerve. But eventually...he surprised her. “No. I returned to the island for...personal reasons.”

  She opened her mouth to ask what, but then closed it and looked down. “Oh.”

  He snorted. “Not going to pry for details? You’re normally so curious.”

  “I--I….” she hesitated, then looked up to meet his steady gaze. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

  He blinked a few times, then looked back down. “Big-hearted, again. I’m not sure what to think of you. You’re nothing like the human girls I’ve been forced to interact with before.”

  “How so?”

  His lips twisted, and he kept quiet for another interval. But then he seemed to brace himself, and said, “I left college because I had found the woman I wanted to marry. But I couldn’t simply mark her and fly off with her. That is wrong. I never agreed with my father’s methods. So I...I told her.”

  “You told her you’re a dragon?” Jenna tried to imagine what would happen if she had gotten infatuated with this spectacularly beautiful man during college, dated him, fallen for him, and then learned that he was actually a big scaly fellow who breathed fire and only really took a human appearance to appeal to potential human mates. Yes, she would be shocked. But….

  “I told her, and then I showed her. Andrea….” he paused, his eyes flickering with grief, and then looked away from her entirely. “Andrea was frightened and angry.

  She called me a monster. She threw things. She swore I had tricked her and that she could never love me--and neither would any other woman. She threatened to tell everyone, and when I pointed out that they would think her insane, she fled. I never saw her again.” He blinked rapidly, still staring at nothing.

  She wanted to hug him again. Seeing this magnificent man-dragon brought low by old pain, his shoulders slumping in spite of himself, made her heart hurt. She got up and went over to him, and stood there until he finally managed to straighten and look at her.

  “Look,” she said hesitantly. “For what it’s worth, not all of us are like that. I’m not. I wouldn’t have done that to you. If you really want to find someone, you still can. There are women out there who are really nasty bitches, okay, I know that. My aunt’s one. But if I had met you...I mean, if I’d had the chance to go to school and then met you….”

  A line appeared between his brows, but the depression seemed to lift a little as he listened.

  She forced herself on, blushing. “I mean, if we had just, you know, met normally, and you had offered to get me the hell away from my aunt...I’d have gone with you. I would.”

  His jaw dropped. Slowly, he reached out, his huge hand cupping the side of her face. “Jenna...you shouldn’t speak of things you don’t fully understand.”

  She put her hand over his, wishing she could say or do something to make this better. She had been living with her own suffering for so long that she had forgotten that others suffered too. And he had, and he might even be suffering now.

  “I may not fully understand dragons, but I know human women, and she was mean and unfair to you. You didn’t trick her because you have to live in secret. You aren’t a monster. And when she said no one could love you, she was just trying to pretend that what she was doing was normal and alright. But being a heartless bitch to a guy who loves you isn’t normal. And it’s not alright.”

  His eyes flickered again, almost luminous...and suddenly she saw that gleam at the back of them that she had seen on that terrifying first night. Back when he had been pretending not to want her. “Jenna,” he murmured in a deeper voice that sounded almost tender.

  “How did my father find a woman such as you, in spite of having no proper heart of his own to gauge a loving nature with? I do not understand it.” His hand slid down the side of her neck to her shoulder, and she shivered. She felt that, felt it fully, and realized, startled, that she wanted him to keep touching her.

  He gazed down at her softly, and for a moment she thought he might kiss her. But then he shook himself out of it, let her go reluctantly, and forced himself to go tend the fire.

  That night she dreamed of their time in his bedchamber again, of his hands on her body, of his gleaming eyes, of the feel of his manhood starting to push into her. His hands kept changing, flickering back and forth from pale and callused to black and scaly, the claws never breaking her skin but simply sliding delicately against her as he caressed her body.

  He was trembling, and she realized as he hovered over her that this too was his first time. He could only mate with one woman, ever in his life. And even when he hated the whole affair, he had schooled and disciplined himself to seek to arouse and satisfy her needs as well as his own...for hours.

  Aside from the emotions involved, she couldn’t have asked for better. It only made the situation that much more ironic: a missed opportunity, ruined by context and the machinations of their relatives.

  In the dream she was no longer numb with terror; her memory of their conversations, of the gentle tug of desire she was starting to feel for him, of the tenderness that underlay it, all mixed with the dream-memories and changed everything. Suddenly she was panting and trembling, clutching him to her; begging him to go on. Taran, don’t be ashamed, her dream-self whispered. You can’t rape the willing...go on. Please, don’t stop.

  But even as those moments played over and over in her head, going gradually from terrifying to delicious to excruciating in their incompleteness, a new element entered the dream. The windows of his castle room were open, letting in a cold storm-wind that blew the curtains and spattered rain on the floor.

  It chilled the sweat on her body, leaving her shivering and clutching him closer. But his warmth was an illusion of the dreamlands, and the cold was real. She woke, balled up and alone, on the small pallet he had put together for her, and her teeth were chattering.

  She sat up with a gasp and looked around. The cave was dark, with only the occasional flicker of lightning flashing over the walls to show her where things were. Taran lay curled up on his pallet nearby, in human form.

  He had taken some of its furs to make her own bed, and there was no longer enough room on it for his true form. His eyes were closed, his face troubled in sleep. She glimpsed it again at the next lightning flash, and saw it crease in faint anguish. Bad dreams, she thought with a stab of sympathy. Who knew that dragons could have nightmares?

  She burrowed deeper into the furs to try and warm herself, but the damp chill seemed to seek her out no matter how many layers she put between the outside air and her skin. Shivering violently, she finally rose, not knowing what else to do. Lightning flashed, showing her the way as she crept across the floor.

  I shouldn’t be doing this, said the practical, sensible part of her brain. But the rest of her--the Jenna that had woken up from deliciously dirty dreams, the Jenna that wanted to cuddle Taran until his troubled expression smoothed, the Jenna that was freezing--outvoted that part. She went to his pallet and looked down at him, then lifted the edges of the furs to climb in with him.

  She sighed with immediate relief. His sleek, muscular body, bare to the waist, felt like a furnace compared to the chill. She snuggled against his back, laying her cheek against his spine and wrapping her arms around him.

  The cold fled, and she relaxed against him, eyes closing. Slowly, his own body relaxed a little, whatever unpleasant visions he was having easing away. She breathed in his spicy, masculine scent, and caressed his side gently until she fell asleep.

  7: Consummation

  She woke in his arms, confused and tired but warm, and let out a happy sigh as she realized where she was. Then she caught herself, and blinked into the darkness, wondering. Wait.

  When had she started falling for him? Was it when he had rescued her? Was it when he had finally opened up to her about the source of his rage and bitterness? Or was it, on some level, when he
had caressed her body, trying to dispassionately prepare her for sex while slowly losing control of himself? Maybe he’s already marked me in some way. Not in the way his father demanded. But inside.

  She laid her head against his chest, hearing the slow beat of his heart...and then blinking in surprise when it picked up a little. He let out a sleepy rumble and spread his palms against her back, pulling her closer against him.

  He nuzzled her hair, clearly not awake yet...except for part of him, which nudged her belly firmly through his breeches. One hand slid down to cup her ass, and she gasped against his neck...then ran her lips against his skin.

  “Jenna,” he murmured in his sleep. “Try to relax...won’t hurt you….”

  “I know,” she responded almost automatically, her voice soft. “I trust you.”

  He jerked awake, startled by her voice, and almost pulled away from her. But then he hesitated, and tilted his head to look down at her as she curled against him. “What...are you doing?”

  Lightning illuminated his features, and she saw the mix of doubt, suspicion...and lust, and joy. She smiled softly. “I was cold...and you were sad. I wanted to fix both….”

  A shudder went through him. “Big-hearted girl,” he murmured, and cradled her close, his own heart pounding suddenly. Then he smirked, and offered a last challenge. “Would...you have climbed into my bed were I in my other form?”

  She giggled a little. “Um, well...yes, though I’d be a little worried about you rolling over and squishing me.”

  He let out an incredulous little laugh and looked down at her, and the next lightning flash showed his smile. “I hate it. I hate admitting this. But for once in his heartless life...my father chose well.”

  She put a finger to his lips briefly. “Let’s leave him out of this. It’s your decision to love or not love, or father a child or not. And mine...to be with you or not. That was always the whole point. And the only reason why I was crying that night.” She rubbed his back and felt him shiver. “Because he tried to take that choice away.”

  Another shiver. He nuzzled the top of her head again. “Then you did mean it. You weren’t just trying to make me feel better. You would have chosen...that...if free choice had been given you.”

  “You mean, I would have chosen you.” She tilted her head back, whispering against the underside of his jaw. “I would, Taran...I would have loved every minute of that night. I would only have cried if you never wanted to do it again. He made what was between us awful and it made me want to die. But you don’t. Not at all, in spite of what he tried to make you do.”

  “What do I make you want to do…?” his voice had gone breathless.

  Her whole body was tingling. She found his lips with her fingers, and leaned up to murmur against them, “This….”

  He rumbled low in his chest and finally kissed her--and she realized that that was what it was, finally. She responded a little clumsily, lacking in practice...but did her best to make up for it in enthusiasm.

  His wide, hot mouth caressed hers, and his tongue darted against hers delicately before exploring the rest of her mouth. She moaned, and he answered with a growl. He stole her breath, left her trembling, his mouth hungry and hot and his teeth just a little bit sharp as he nibbled his way along her jaw. “Jenna…” he whispered against her neck. “Jenna….”

  “Taran,” she gasped in reply. “Please, more….”

  He rolled them over, pinning her down deliciously, his hips pressed into hers through the layers of cloth. Her hands were in his hair, tangled in sleek, long strands like silk, so little like the bony ruff she had clung to during their escape.

  His hands slid all over her, shaking and a little rough, nothing like the meditative, almost clinical way he had tried to touch her during their first encounter. She gasped as he bit her neck lightly, and impatiently plucked the brooch at her throat from its fabric, baring her breasts and belly. “Don’t stop this time….”

  He squeezed one breast gently, and ran his thumb over the nipple, back and forth, while she arched and moaned and rubbed herself against him. His tone had filled with trembling heat, seductive and a little desperate, even as he struggled with a last warning. “It’s forever, Jenna. We barely know each other, and it’s forever….” But he didn’t stop. Maybe he couldn’t stop.

  “You’re the only man who has ever wanted me as I am,” she whispered. “I love the way you make me feel. I don’t care how this started, we’re here now. And if it’s forever, then let’s try for something real and strong.” Something Andrea and the King and Aunt Margaret and every other spiteful, small-hearted fool would never experience.

  “You are the only woman who has ever wanted me as I am,” he murmured, and kissed her again, his mouth almost brutal against hers.

  She wanted to tell him yes, a thousand times yes, that Andrea had been an idiot for giving him up and twice the idiot for hurting him. But then he tore the gown getting the rest of it off of her, and his hot tongue slid over the curve of her breast, she couldn’t gather enough breath or wits to talk any more.

  He couldn’t take his time like before. He tried; his hands shook as he explored every inch of her, his mouth clung hungrily to her flesh, leaving little deliciously sore spots behind; sometimes she felt his teeth, and all they did was add spice to her sensations.

  She thrashed and whimpered under him, returning his kisses enthusiastically, her hands sliding over his bare skin and then down, running her fingertips under the waistband of his breeches. His belly flexed against her knuckles, and he let out an uncomfortable grunt.

  She slid her fingers down his tented groin, caressing him through the fabric, and he grunted again, squirming a little. “Oh...looks like there’s no room for you in these any more...let’s fix this.” Her words almost sounded seductive, even though she had to keep fighting attacks of nerves. Am I doing this right? she wondered awkwardly as she started unbuttoning his breeches.

  He froze--then reached down eagerly to help her, shoving the leather down and kicking it off. His erection pressed tautly against her and she circled it gently with her hands, exploring him with growing boldness. The skin there surprised her with how smooth and soft it was. He hissed with pleasure and thrust slowly in her hands, his eyes widening as he slid against her palms and belly. “Oh, that’s good...I…” He went quiet, panting, tremors starting in his body that intensified with every movement of his hips.

  He moaned into her shoulder, then nipped at her collarbone--and gently pushed her hands away from his erection. “Not like that,” he breathed, having to take a moment to control himself. His shivering eased off, and he looked down at her, his eyes luminous in the dark. They hooded, and then he started to kiss his way down her body.

  “What are you doing--!” His mouth fastened onto her breast, tongue swirling, and her voice broke up into a low cry. But he wasn’t done. His hand slid down below the soft curve of her belly and started toying with her, rubbing and kneading.

  She gasped, her own eyes widening as he fell into a slow but gradually building rhythm. He slid his mouth over to her other nipple, never slowing or stopping his hand’s movements against her sex. It felt good...so good...and then better, the same movement somehow building up pleasure in her body like an electric charge. “Oh...oh Taran--I--”

  He chuckled against her skin as her hips started to rise and fall in time to his hand’s movements. It was reflex...and hunger for more...and then desperation, as she ground against him and felt her heart pounding hard in her chest. “Taran...Taran...oh God--!”

  Her breath rushed out in long, gasping cries as her body spasmed, unfamiliar waves of ecstasy rolling through her. Her mind cleared of everything but the pure joy of a single, animal need, one she hadn’t even been fully aware of before now, finally realized--and satisfied. She collapsed and panted up at him, amazed and delighted.

  His body was a shadow in the dark to her, just the curve of his shoulder showing in the dim light from the cave mouth. That and his luminous
eyes, which barely blinked as they stared down at her. His chest heaved, breath hissing with need, and she felt him take himself in hand and then press lightly at the entrance to her sex. She lifted her hips, and he gently worked the head inside, even as he started to tremble again.

  “Come on,” she purred, arms sliding around him. She reached down and gripped his ass, having forgotten shyness in that explosive experience just moments before. He grunted in surprise...and then squinted with pleasure and thrust forward.

  He was big, and she untouched; it hurt, but her climax had relaxed her, and she pushed back against him, determined to take him in fully. His eyes narrowed to slits; he shuddered, and then frantically nuzzled at her neck and lips, as if he was too undone to remember how to kiss properly.

  She wrapped her legs around him, catching his mouth with hers and writhing seductively under him. He gasped, going still. Then slowly, as if finally allowing himself to give in to his own needs, he lowered his head and started to thrust.

  It hurt, and then the pain started receding, movement by movement, as her body’s arousal grew and drowned out the unfamiliar ache of being filled with him. He sucked air in time to his thrusts, his warm body heating but dry and sweatless, while she lifted her hips to meet him and whispered encouragement in his ear. “Do it...oh please, don’t stop...you feel so good….”

  The whole world seemed to narrow to their rude bed of furs, to their bodies entwined together, to the mixed look of astonishment and pleasure on his face that she saw when the lightning revealed it. “Oh, Jenna….” he gasped, half-delirious voice filled with wonder. “Jenna...so good….” He sped his movements, belly starting to slap against hers with a sharp sound that undercut his almost constant groans. She felt herself pushed into the furs as his control slipped more and more in the face of a completely new pleasure.

  Her body tensed gradually around him, his girth stimulating her in new ways as he moved. She heard her voice ramping up in gasps and cries to match his own, while he started to shudder like a man having a fit.