Saved By Her Dragon

by Julia Mills

  “Devon?” His name on her lips drew his gaze.

  “Yes, mo chroi’?” he crooned, massaging up and down her thighs, sure to brush the outer lips of her pussy on every pass and enjoying that her hips jumped at every touch.

  “Devon…I need…” She gasped, unable to complete her thought as his index finger ran up and down her slit, already wet with the proof of her arousal.

  “What is it you need, my love?” He teased, enjoying the sight as her breathing grew even more ragged and she found it hard to hold still. Devon took in the vision of Anya in the throes of passion, her head thrown back, eyes closed tight, mouth open as she called his name like a mantra and knew he had glimpsed heaven.

  “I…oh God, yes…” She wailed as he pushed his finger through her folds and teased the opening, her juices wetting his hand. Her pussy contracted around the tip of his finger, attempting to pull his digit into her warm wet passage. Adding another finger, he began gliding them in and out, her honey providing the perfect lubrication. His thumb drew lazy circles around her swollen clit while his fingers continued to work her arousal higher. Every few swipes he would bend the tips of his fingers to gently brush the very special bundle of nerves that made his mate moan in pleasure.

  Needing to taste her more than he needed his next breath he quickly removed his fingers, and before she could whine at the loss, drove his tongue into her pussy as far as he could reach. Her taste exploded on his tongue, flashes of light bursting before his eyes. He devoured Anya like a man possessed, grabbing every drop of the nectar that flowed from her. She tasted of sunshine and honey and everything good and right in the world. The more his tongue moved within her, the more of her heavenly juices he took in, until he felt drunk. Her hands pulled at his hair and he was sure he would be bald, but he simply couldn’t care. Her legs came over his shoulders and closed around his head making breathing almost impossible, and still he consumed all she had to give.

  He felt her tense just a second before her orgasm overtook her. Screaming his name, she came on his tongue, filling his mouth until her juices ran down his chin. He continued to lick and tease as she came back to earth.

  Looking up he found her smiling a lazy smile and gazing at him through passion-filled eyes. His only thought was to keep that exact look on her face for the rest of their lives together.

  His cock pulsed against the zipper of his black pants and it was then that he realized he was still completely dressed. Not wanting to leave his place between her thighs but needing to feel her skin against his, Devon stood in one fluid motion, threw off his surcoat and tore the black long-sleeved T-shirt over his head. His hands reached for the buckle of his belt only to be knocked away by Anya’s much smaller ones.

  His eyes flew to hers. “What…?”

  “It’s my turn, Mr. Walsh,” she winked. He had no idea how she had moved so quickly, but when she looked at him with such mischief in her eyes and a grin that was perfect parts sweetness and seduction on her lips, all thoughts of anything but being buried deep inside her fled from his mind.

  Anya undid his belt and button and then slowly slid his zipper down, never once losing eye contact. She pressed her body to his, the heat of her skin against his better than anything he could have ever imagined. Her hardened nipples pushed against the muscles of his chest and he longed to taste them once again. With her thighs pressing against his, she turned their bodies until the bed bumped the back of his knees. His pants slid down his legs, held up by his knee length boots. Devon started to bend to remove the offending footwear but Anya’s hands on his shoulders stopped his progress

  Shaking her head, she gently pushed until he sat on the side of the bed and then drove the breath from his lungs as she kneeled before him. The look she gave him as she glanced up through the fringe of her long dark lashes would have killed a lesser man. Needing to be inside her more than he needed his next breath, Devon grabbed her shoulders, trying to pull her onto his lap, boots be damned. But once again she shook her head, denying him the pleasure he so desperately needed. His mate had a plan, one she would not abandon no matter how close to death she pushed him. But you’ll die with a smile on your face, old boy, he chuckled to himself.

  Lifting first one foot and then the other, Anya removed his boots and then his pants. She ran her nails, painted the same deep red as her toes, up his shins and across his thighs, stopping inches from his straining cock, eager to have her touch. Anya painted figure eights up and down his thigh, the friction of her touch against the smattering of short dark hair raised goose bumps all over his body while she wove her web of seduction.

  Her thoughts were completely open to him, letting him feel as well as hear that his pleasure was her only focus. She wanted to please him in every way possible and mark him just as he did her. Anya wanted the world to know he was hers every bit as much as she was his.

  All thought fled from his mind when her lips closed around his cock and she sucked as much of his considerable length into her mouth as she could fit. He had been so lost to their combined thoughts, he had once again missed her movement. With slow precision that threatened all his years of hard fought patience, Anya worked him in and out of her mouth, her tongue massaging the pulsing vein that ran from base to tip.

  His head fell back, his eyes slid shut, and his body shook with the sheer power it took to restrain himself from lifting her off the floor, throwing her on the bed, and burying himself deep inside her. The pleasure she gave him threatened his very sanity.

  “I can’t hold on much longer, mo ghra’. You are killing me,” he sent directly in her mind.

  Her answering chuckle was maddening and incredibly sexy, “I have faith you’ll hold on, Dragon Man.”

  Any response he might have had was driven from his mind when she pulled her head back until only his mushroom head lay in the confines of her miraculous mouth. The tip of her tongue dipped into the slit at the very tip causing his cock to jump and the muscles in his thighs to shake. She continued her exploration, licking all around the ridge while her hands closed around his balls and massaged. Her nails scratched against his ass adding a whole new dimension to the web of love and seduction she wove.

  In one swift motion Anya sucked him deep into her mouth, the tip of his cock touching the back of her throat. She hollowed her cheeks and swallowed while her hands worked the base of his shaft. He fell back, his arms keeping him semi-upright as his balls drew up tight and he released into her mouth, his shout echoing throughout the entire dwelling.

  As he floated down from the best orgasm of his life, Anya’s thoughts of undying love and complete adoration filled his heart and mind while she continued to work him across her sweet lips. Needing to feel her skin against his more than anything he reached forward, pulling his already hardening cock from her mouth and slid his hands under her arms.

  Anya resisted, and almost quicker than his eyes could track, and with a strength he could only attribute to their incredible love, pushed him onto his back. Devon watched, totally captivated as she climbed over his body with the grace of a jungle cat. Her heavy breasts swung side to side, hypnotizing him with their movement, her hips following in the same seductive dance. As she came closer he saw the evidence of her desire wetting her thighs and moved to roll them over so that he could ravish his mate to his heart’s content.

  Her hands on his chest and the look in her eyes stilled his movements. Anya licked her lips, her tongue wetting a trail across the top and then the bottom. Unable to look anywhere but her mouth that had just given him untold pleasure he moaned in total bliss when she straddled his waist, his straining cock fitting perfectly between the cheeks of her beautiful bottom. With her eyes locked on his, she rocked her hips back and forth slowly, lifting ever so slightly, dragging his erection through her juices.

  Devon growled low in his throat, fisted the comforter under his body and pulled. The sound of fabric tearing reached his ears at the same time Anya lifted up on her knees and gripped his cock, positioning it
at her opening. As she slowly sank down her walls quickly adjusted to his girth, fitting around him like a glove, and they sighed in unison, the sound one of complete bliss. Their first joining as dragon shifter and mate was a thing of ultimate joy and untold beauty. Never had two people fit more perfectly together.

  He resisted the urge to move, feeling through their connection how important it was to her to control their first coupling as what she called, man and wife. Her feminine walls contracted around him making rational thought damn near impossible.

  “You’re going to kill me, mo ghra’,” he rumbled, wheezing with the effort to find enough air.

  “Can you think of a better way to go?” she chuckled and he was glad to hear she was as breathless as he.

  Finally, just as Devon was sure he would lose his mind, Anya lifted, tightening around him as she raised high enough he feared falling from her tight, warm sex. But just before that happened, she descended, rolling her hips when she touched down. She started a rhythm, rising and falling, tightening and rolling, driving Devon and his dragon nearly insane.

  His hands cupped her breasts, feeling the pebble of her hardened nipple against his palm as he squeezed her silky skin. The sight of his mate riding him with such wild abandon brought the beast to the forefront, the dragon would no longer be denied. Grabbing her waist, he rolled them until Anya’s gorgeous green eyes were looking up at him. Her legs automatically tightened around him, her hands grabbing his shoulders for purchase as he began thrusting into her.

  His control completely shattered as she met him thrust for thrust, the sounds of their flesh slapping against one another mixed with their harsh breaths filling the room. They worked each other roughly. Had he not been able to hear her thoughts Devon would have feared hurting her, but Anya was just as lost to their passion as he, enjoying all they were together. The faster they moved, the louder she moaned. Her hands slipped from his shoulders and he felt the bite of her nails as they slid down his back. His dragon roared and the man arched his back, thrilled he had driven her to such heights.

  Her pussy contracted tighter and tighter around him as his cock swelled and his balls again grew tight. They were both so very close that he would do whatever possible to see them release together. Reaching between their bodies, he rubbed his thumb against her clit. Anya’s nails bit deeper into his back, she bowed up until only the weight of his body kept her from coming off the bed and shouted in an unknown language. She was frantic beneath him as he slammed into her, bumping her cervix on every thrust.

  “Look at me, Anya,” Devon sent directly into her mind as he lightly pinched her swollen nub between his thumb and forefinger. Anya eyes snapped to his and together they bellowed their release to the Heavens. Her pussy contracted around him, holding him tight, milking him of his last drop. When she began to relax he moved slowly in and out of her, wringing the last of her orgasm from deep within. He smiled as she shivered from his semi-erect cock rubbing against her sensitive walls.

  Her eyes began to clear, a satisfied sparkle replacing the clouds of euphoria. His heart clenched in his chest and his dragon purred when she stretched beneath him, the lazy grin of contentment once again gracing her lips. Unwilling to leave the haven of his mate he rolled to his side taking her with him, until their heads rested comfortably on the pillows at the head of the bed.

  Bits of torn fabric and down floated about as he positioned their bodies, causing Anya to giggle, “You ripped the comforter.”

  “And I’d do it again and again,” he answered, taking her mouth with his while he reached under her pillow to retrieve the light grey, velvet drawstring bag he had placed there before the ceremony.

  He pulled up and chuckled as her mouth followed his, trying to prolong their kiss. “Just one second, my love, I have a present for you.”

  Anya looked between them at the velvet bag and then back to his eyes before furrowing her brow and pouting. “But I don’t have anything for you.”

  Devon pulled her close until he could feel her breath on his cheek and whispered, “I have everything I’ll ever want or need, right here…in you.”

  Tears filled her eyes, but he knew from her thoughts they were what the other women had called happy tears. Scooting into a sitting position, he lifted Anya and set her across his thighs before handing her his gift.

  She gently tipped the bag and Devon watched as the exquisite necklace Emma had created slipped into her hand. Her lips formed a perfect ‘O’ as she gasped in surprise and pleasure. “Oh my…Devon… This is beautiful. Is it made of your scale?”

  “Yes, mo ghra’ it is. Emma designed it for our mating day. It is a one of a kind work of art…just like you.” The same happy tears he had seen fill her eyes just a moment ago, wet her cheeks as she threw her arms around him.

  When she sat back, Devon took the necklace from her grasp and secured the gold chain around her neck. The tiny bell tinkled as she moved. “I love that sound,” she crooned.

  “Do you know what it means when a bell rings?”

  She tipped her head and thought for a moment before answering, “No.”

  The bared column of her neck caught and held his attention as he spoke. “Every time,”…he kissed below her ear. “A dragon,”…he kissed her mating mark. “Kisses his mate,”…he kissed her jaw. “A bell rings.”…He kissed the apple of her cheek. With the tip of his index finger under her chin, he turned her head until their noses all but touched and breathed, “And this little bell is gonna earn his keep,” just before capturing her lips.

  “I love you, Devon,” whispered across his mind.

  “And I love you, Anya Walsh, with all that I am and all I will ever be.”

  *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  Anya awoke suddenly, an excruciating pain radiating from deep within her core, shooting throughout her body and robbing her lungs of air. It felt like she was burning from the inside out. The mark on her wrist throbbed, and with every pulse new pain radiated up her arm. Every movement forced a whimper from her lips; even the sheet on her body seemed heavy. Not wanting to disturb Devon she slowly sat up, letting her legs that felt too heavy to lift fall over the side of the bed before she tried to stand. Her legs shook violently with every step, forcing her grab the bedpost to keep from falling.

  Panting like she had just run a marathon, Anya pushed off and stumbled to the chair as black spots filled her vision. A cold sweat broke out all over her body, her teeth chattered as she shook uncontrollably, caught between the chill of her skin and the fire burning just under the surface. Bending forward, she let her head fall between her knees and gulped air like a fish out of water, sure she was about to faint.

  Attempting a deep breath, she sat back as an especially horrible wave of pain slightly receded and waited for her vision to clear. Flashes of light burst between the black spots whether her eyes were open or shut, and visions of things she had never before seen appeared as memories in her mind. Gathering her strength, Anya stood once again, painstakingly making her way to the bathroom.

  She leaned heavily on the basin, letting the water run until she was sure it was cold. Some of the water she aimed for her face hit its mark, but much of it covered her chest and arms and wet the floor beneath her feet. Another wave of pain began building in the pit of her stomach, promising to be far worse than the last. Leaning on the sink she pushed to stand, a glow reflected in the mirror shown in her peripheral vision snapping her attention to the reflection.

  Her hair hung in dripping, matted strands around her face, her normally light olive skin so pale it appeared translucent, and her lips an almost blood red. She looked alien, but it was her eyes that scared her the most. They glowed so bright, they lit the darkness where she had forgotten to turn on a light and when she moved closer to the mirror, she could see flashes of something deep within, changing the shape of her pupil. The longer she looked the faster it flashed, making it impossible for her to give the form she saw a name.

  Fearing she was possessed or suffering some hor
rible side effect of the magic Andrew had subjected her to, even entertaining the comment made by Kyra’s Aunt about her sanity, Anya turned as quickly as she could and attempted to call for Devon. No sound came from her throat, only the strangled whisper of a wounded animal. As she took a breath to try again, the ball of fire she had felt building burst forth, blanketing her inside with molten lava and driving her to her knees.

  She screamed within her mind, praying Devon would hear her distress and come to the rescue, but her calls only echoed within her own mind and mixed with the roar of a static she had never before experienced. The pain seemed to be never ending, wave upon wave building until she actually prayed for death. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, it disappeared. She lay on the floor between the bathroom and the bedroom, curled in a fetal position, panting like a dog, quaking uncontrollably.

  It took several moments, but finally she rose to her knees, used the door for support, and stood once again on shaky legs. Taking a few deep breaths, praying that whatever had decided to attack her had moved on, she took first one step and then another, until she made it out of the room and stood at the top of the steps. She gripped the wooden railing, and taking one step at a time, made her way the bottom of stairs, her butt making contact with the bottom step as the waning strength in her legs gave out. If her mouth were not so dry that her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and had her throat not burned from thirst, she would’ve crawled to the couch and tried to sleep off the effects of whatever had just occurred. But thirst won out and she found herself once again summoning her strength and struggling to stand.

  Slowly, and with incredible focus, she made it to the kitchen sink, filled a glass from the closest cabinet with water, and drank it down in one gulp. She repeated the process several times until her throat no longer burned. Exhausted and barely able to put one foot in front of the other, she shuffled to the couch. Falling onto the soft, overstuffed cushions, she pulled the throw from the back letting it cover her body wherever it fell.