Somewhere in the middle of chattering to herself, Angela looked down at her clothes. Her shirt was smeared with dried blood, staining the fabric. And it wasn’t her blood. There was no wound on her body. Someone else’s blood was all over her shirt.
Angela screamed again, unable to keep the sound of pure panic from her voice. And when she screamed, the dragon she was riding slowed. Its head turned around. It looked at her. Its yellow eyes met her brown ones, and they looked into each other’s souls.
Angela’s mouth slammed shut and the vise that was crushing her chest eased a bit. There was something in the dragon’s eyes that was so familiar to her. So kind. So gentle. So warm. She hadn’t considered the possibility that a dragon could be something beautiful, but that’s exactly what it was.
She supposed that she should be grateful that she was imagining nice dragons rather than evil ones. Still flying forward, the dragon bent its head back towards her, nudging her gently with its face that was ten times the size of hers. Angela leaned against the touch, burying her face in the dragon’s scales and holding on.
“Please help me,” she whispered. “Please—I don’t know what to do. Please help me.”
The dragon pulled away from her, and then they were moving lower in the air. There were only trees below them, the bayou stretching out for miles. The trees grew closer and closer, until the dragon’s underside was skimming the tops of them. They landed in a small clearing, surrounded on every side. The ground was soft and watery beneath them, but Angela didn’t care that it swamped her shoes when she slid from the dragon’s back. She gave no thought to the creatures that might be in the marsh.
She was on land again, and she sank to her knees, her palms pressing into the sodden ground as she closed her eyes and breathed in the familiar scents around her.
Angela moved to sit down, again not caring about the mud that would soak her clothing, and her hand landed on a bag that was half open. Hanging out of the bag was a shoe, and it looked familiar. In a daze, she reached for the shoe, pulling it closer to her. She ran her fingers over it, and tilted her head. It looked just like Ryan’s shoes that he always wore. It was more of a boot, really. A walking boot. Or a hiking boot. Brown and rugged, with yellow laces.
Looking up, Angela tried to obtain some grasp on reality. The black dragon that she thought she was seeing was still there, sitting a fair distance away from her, watching her every move. Ryan was nowhere to be seen, but this must be his shoe in her hand.
If he existed, that is. Perhaps she was just imagining random things, like a waking dream that never really made sense.
“Hello,” Angela said to the dragon, not knowing what else to do. “My name is Angela Winston. I’m from Bristol, England. I came here to Louisiana, and I’ve gone insane. I know you’re not real, but you are very impressive. I’m not afraid of you. I thought I would be, but I’m not. You’re beautiful in a way, you know. So sleek, and black, and powerful. I wish that you were real, actually. I wish you were real, and that you could explain all of this to me, because I’m tired of waking up not knowing where I am or what I’ve been doing.”
The dragon lifted its head, got to its feet, and walked towards her. When it reached her, it nudged her with its head again, and she leaned her soft warm cheek against its cold, scaly one.
They sat like that for a long moment, and then the dragon pulled away from her. She reached for it, oddly missing its closeness. It was the nicest figment of her imagination that she’d had yet, and she didn’t want to leave.
“Come back,” she said, reaching her hand out towards it. “We might as well stay here.”
The dragon lifted its head, and then a change came over it with a slight shimmer. Right before her eyes, the dragon disappeared, and in its place stood a man, stark naked, and with Ryan’s face.
He stared at her and she stared back at him, understanding less than ever. What was her mind trying to tell her now? She had imagined Ryan as a dragon. Or she was imagining the dragon as Ryan. That must be it. She trusted Ryan, so it would make sense that she would want him here with her now.
If Ryan was real.
God, the mental loop was exhausting. She closed her eyes, looking away from Ryan. She didn’t even know if he was standing there or not. All she wanted to do was lie down in the marsh and sleep—actual sleep. Not the kind of sleep where her body did things that her mind had no knowledge of.
Angela smiled, imagining what Ryan would say if she ever told him that she had imagined that he was a dragon.
There was a soft touch on her arm and someone crouched beside her.
“Angela?”
It was Ryan’s voice, so close to her. She opened her eyes, looking up into his. Her hand lifted and touched his face, her fingers stroking along the rugged line of his cheek. He had put on jeans, but nothing else, and his bare chest was tantalizing. Reaching her other hand out, she touched it lightly, tracing the lines of his muscles.
At least her imagination had the good sense to imagine a man who was sculpted and gorgeous.
“I wish you were real,” Angela said again, splaying her hand against his chest and stroking his skin with her thumb. “I really do.”
“I am real,” Ryan said, taking her hand in his and pulling her towards him. He sat back down in the marsh and lifted her into his lap, one of his hands cupping her cheek. “Angela, you’re in a bit of shock.”
“Am I?”
Ryan nodded, sliding his hand through her hair, his fingers stroking the back of her neck. “You are. And, God, I don’t know how to begin to explain any of this to you.”
“I woke up on the back of a dragon.”
“I know.”
“It was terrifying. But then … it wasn’t.”
“It wasn’t?”
His fingers were still stroking her, and he was so close, wrapped around her the way he was. She leaned into him, her forehead touching his. “Ryan?”
“Yes?”
“Are you real?”
“Very real,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry about all of this, Angela. I promise—I’m going to help you.”
She looked up into his eyes, so close to hers. He said he was real, but she didn’t know, because a figment of her imagination would say that it was real, wouldn’t it? It’s not as though he would just admit that he was imaginary. But did it really matter? The line between real and imaginary didn’t seem to exist anymore, and right now he was looking at her so intently. And she had wanted to do this for a long time.
Tilting her head up, Angela brushed her lips over his, a flicker of heat burning low in her stomach as their mouths met. His hold on her tightened, his hand tangling in her hair as he returned her kiss, his lips moving over hers with urgency and gentleness as the same time.
Angela didn’t actually care if this was real or not. It was wonderful. Parting her lips beneath his, she skimmed his bottom lip with her tongue, eliciting a delicious groan from him. He teased her back, his tongue stroking against hers as his free hand slid over her side, pressing against her waist.
She let her hands move over his chest and his arms, feeling the bulge of his biceps and the firm definition of his pectorals. Angela shivered with pleasure as he explored her, too, stroking his hand up and down her leg, his fingers siding beneath the hem of her shorts to skim his fingertips over her thigh.
“Ryan,” Angela murmured, sliding her fingers into his own hair and pulling him closer. She leaned back, pulling him with her until they were both lying on the soggy ground. It didn’t matter that there was mud beneath them or that her shirt was splattered with blood and mud. None of that was real. She was in the middle of a dream, and at this exact moment, that dream was perfect.
“Angela,” Ryan whispered back. “Honey …I want to touch you, but God—I think I’m taking advantage of you.”
“Do shut up,” Angela said, drawing him back to her as he started to pull away. “I know what I want.”
He groaned, lowering him
self over her again and kissing her fiercely. “Do you?”
“Oh yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Oh yes.”
“Angela—.”
She sighed, looking up into his eyes as he stared down at her. “Ryan, please. Shut up and kiss me.”
He offered no further protests, his mouth crushing down against hers. The gentleness was still there, but it was deeper beneath the surface now, his passion taking over. Angela welcomed it. She arched her body up against his, her hands dragging down his back. Her mind flashed back to the moment he had appeared, stark naked, and she wanted him in that same state again.
Her hand slipped between them, fumbling with the button on his pants, but he pushed her fingers away as he kissed down her neck.
“If you do that, this is all going to be over much too soon,” he said, “and if we’re doing this, I want it to last.”
Angela smiled, biting her lip. “That’s hard to argue with.”
He smiled back at her, his hand traveling over her hip and around to her ass, squeezing it hard. “God, I’ve wanted to touch you for days now.”
“I’ve only been imagining you for two days.”
“Well, I’ve wanted to touch you for two days,” he said, sliding his hand from her backside up beneath her shirt. His rough fingers stroked over the skin of her waist, sliding upward slowly until he skimmed the underside of her breast through her bra.
Angela gasped, closing her eyes and reveling in his touch as she felt the weight of him on top of her. Pulling him back to her, she took his mouth again, their tongues tangling as his hands grew bolder. He cupped her breast and squeezed gently, thumbing her nipple through the cotton fabric of her bra.
She sighed with pleasure, her hand sliding down his bare back. As his lips began to explore her collarbone and shoulder, she pressed her own lips to every inch of his skin that she could reach. He felt incredible, above her, around her, under her hands, against her lips. Every other thing fled her mind. There were no troubles, no fears, no spirits—nothing. Just pleasure.
He pulled her shirt over her head, discarding the ruined fabric in the marsh. The way he looked down at her sent thrills moving through her. He looked like he wanted to worship her and devour her all at once, and she wanted him to do both.
Her full breasts were spilling from her bra as he kissed along her curves. He pushed her bra up, unsnapping it at the back so that the fabric gave way and her breasts spilled out entirely. With a groan, he fastened his lips to one of her nipples, suckling it as his fingers played with her other breast. Her hips pressed up against his, gyrating against him as he drove her wild with pleasure.
She also wanted to make these moments last, but she was desperate for him, and as he continued to tease her, she only grew more desperate.
“Ryan …” she said, gasping as his teeth skimmed one nipple while his fingers pinched the other. “Ryan, please. God—please.”
Chapter 28
Ryan
When he had realized that it was Angela riding on his back through the sky, he’d panicked. He had never intended to reveal his true identity to her given how poorly she’d taken the suggestion of any supernatural explanation for her own condition. He couldn’t imagine the shock she must have felt, waking to find herself riding on the back of a dragon, and he knew that Leanna had created that situation on purpose.
But when he had landed with her, instead of a distraught, angry, frightened woman, he had found a woman who was in a daze. Who seemed to have accepted that she had no control over reality anymore. A woman who had moved towards him, come into his arms, and kissed him.
God, he had wanted to kiss her for so long, and he hadn’t even let himself imagine it. At least …not often.
And now, here she was, offering herself to him. Insisting that he accept her offer. And he wanted to accept it. He wanted to so badly that he could barely think straight. And, yet, in the back of his mind, he couldn’t forget that she was in a vulnerable state. She believed that she had lost her mind, that nothing was real, and nothing mattered.
“Ryan, I want you,” Angela whispered, sending a wave of desire crashing over him. “Please.”
He groaned, kissing her heatedly. “I want you, too,” he said, the fervency in his tone should have been all that she needed to believe that he meant it. “How long have you wanted me, Angela?”
“Always,” she said, closing her eyes with pleasure as he couldn’t help but bow his head and kiss her full breasts again. Her body was perfect. Her curves were luscious, and her stomach was flat. Her legs were long, and smooth, and toned, and her ass—God. The woman was built like a goddess, and she had the face of an angel. He couldn’t imagine how he had managed to keep his hands off her for this long.
“Always?” he asked her, tracing her nipple with his tongue as his hand, unbidden, went to the zipper of her shorts, stroking up and down to tease her. “Not just now? Earlier tonight? Did you want me earlier tonight?”
“Yes,” she gasped, arching against his touch. “Ryan!”
He couldn’t hold himself back. She was a woman who knew her own mind, and she wanted him to make love to her as much as he did. They would sort out the rest later.
“Okay,” he said, looking up into her flushed, beautiful face as he cupped her between her legs, grinding down against her with his palm. She shuddered with need, her legs falling apart for him. Without censoring himself, he ripped her shorts off her body, shredding the fabric with hardly any effort. His passion made her moan with pleasure, and he bent his head down, burying it between her legs and beginning to kiss her heated center through the fabric of her panties.
Her legs wrapped around his head, and his hands cupped her ass, and he devoured her, pushing aside the fabric with his tongue and delving into her directly.
As he licked, and teased, and tasted her, she squirmed beneath him, her hips lifting up as she demanded more and more. He gave her everything he had, using his tongue to drive her wild, and when she finally shouted, clenched her legs together, and came for him, he didn’t imagine that the pleasure she felt was anything at all in comparison to the pleasure he felt.
The way her body went slack as she came down from her orgasm was delicious, and he gentled his mouth on her, coaxing her down from the high as her legs fell apart and her chest heaved with effort.
“Oh God,” Angela said, her head falling to the side and one hand sinking into his hair. “Oh God …”
He eased back from her, getting onto his knees so that he could push his own jeans down his hips. He took the boxers with the jeans, and he was kneeling in front of her, naked once again. The way her eyes widened and focused on his length only made him grow harder and longer, and his body ached for her.
“Angela,” he whispered, as her hand reached up to wrap around his cock. “Baby, I need to be inside you. If you do that—ahhh.” He closed his eyes, her gentle touch and insistent fingers almost driving him over the edge.
“Take me,” she said, quietly.
His eyes opened again, fixating on hers, and he could do nothing but obey her demand. Her hand fell away from him, and he hovered over her once more, this time nothing between their bodies. As he lowered himself to her, he kissed her softly, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. His cock teased her entrance, driving them both wild, and then he slid inside of her with one powerful thrust.
Feeling her wrapped around him was better than flying through the night air, free and wild with his wings slicing through the sky to carry him anywhere he wanted to go. She was tight, and warm, and wet, and he slid out of her just to feel the sensation of sliding into her again.
She gasped with pleasure as he thrust deep within her, and the sound sent him over the edge. He wanted to linger in her and make the moment last, but his desire was too strong. Ryan began to move within her, setting a hard, driving pace. Angela urged him on, squeezing her legs around him and lifting her hips to meet each thrust.
“Yes,” she moan
ed, kissing him frantically. “Yes …that’s perfect. Ryan—oh God. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”
He wasn’t sure he could have stopped if he tried, but he had no intention of testing the theory. Ryan thrust into her, pivoting his hips in a circle so that he hit each of her pleasure spots. When she bucked beneath him, her eyes rolling back with pleasure, he had never felt so accomplished in his life. All he wanted to do was make love to this woman forever, drinking in every ounce of her desire.
But she was getting close to her peak again, and he wasn’t going to be far behind her. He could feel the way she was tightening around him, her inner muscles trembling. Focusing on her entirely, he kissed her fervently as his hips thrust once, twice, three times, then held within her, circling and circling as she fell apart beneath him.
She cried out his name and thrashed, lifting her hips upward to draw him further into her. When she did that, he came with her, spilling himself inside of her tight body as she spasmed around him.
Pleasure washed over him in wave after wave, dragging him under its current. When he surfaced, he had collapsed on top of her, breathing hard, his face half buried in her neck and half resting in the muddy marsh beneath them.
For the first time, it occurred to him that they were both completely naked in the bayou, making love in what amounted to a puddle of muddy water. The fact that such an incredible, intimate, intoxicating moment could happen in such a place struck him as amusing, and he laughed, the sound tickling against Angela’s ear.
“What?” she asked, her voice lazy and almost slurred. “What could possibly be funny?”
Rockwell Agency: Boxset Page 17