Kiss of the Dragon

by Nicola Claire

  I quickly said goodnight to the room at large, receiving various chortles and smirks from the poker table, polite farewells from the humans. And nothing from Samson. He had disappeared.

  My heart plummeted. I bit my bottom lip and Michel sighed.

  "He is struggling, ma douce," he whispered, as he took hold of my hand and led me up the grand staircase, which swept in an impressive curve from the ground floor to the top.

  "Struggling with what?" I asked, suddenly not feeling amorous at all.

  Michel ran a hand through his hair clearly frustrated at Samson affecting my mood.

  "The Nothus, his new powers." He paused. "The fact he cannot be with you to aid and protect you as Sergei and Natalyia are."

  "Is he jealous?" I asked stunned, as we entered our plush bedroom. It was large with a sitting area by the fireplace, a huge four-poster bed with navy velvet drapes that matched the drapes over the bare windows - the shutters hidden from sight within the walls themselves - dark wooden side tables and dressers, soft carpet underfoot, copious amounts of silver and navy pillows cascading over the bed.

  There was also a bathroom and dressing room off to the side, both bigger than our bedroom at St. Helier's Bay had been. Everything in this house was big. And plush. And simply beautiful. Fit for a King, I decided, then amended that thought to fit for the Champion.

  "Of course," Michel answered my question. "But more so, he is concerned for your safety and wishes to be of help."

  "He helps me by looking after my obligations back in New Zealand, just as Doug and Shane look after yours. I'm sure they would prefer to be with you here, than all the way in the South Pacific."

  "This is true," Michel replied beginning to undo his neck-tie and strip out of his suit jacket with practised ease. "But Samson is your first born, ma douce. You feel more for him than the others, do you not? Likewise his feelings towards you are more."

  "I couldn't leave Sergei or Natalyia in NZ," I said a little petulantly. I needed the Tego Texi Tectum with me in case a fairy jumped out of the shadows and attacked. Besides, neither of them were in love with the Nothus Nut had forced me to watch over in exchange for saving her life.

  "I know, ma douce," Michel said softly, trying to calm me down from the heights of emotional turmoil I was threatening to climb. He glided towards me, his jacket, shirt and tie gone, his naked and very lick-able chest catching my eye. I was momentarily stunned, unable to move or make comment, my tongue automatically coming out to lick my lips. Michel grinned as his hands came up to cup my face.

  "He is in the right place, Lucinda. You have done the right thing. We have no control over other's emotions, we can only attempt to accept them and allow them time themselves to come to accept them too." He brushed his lips over mine softly, then returned with the tip of his tongue along my bottom lip. My mouth opened without further encouragement and he took the invitation immediately, slipping in between my teeth.

  Tongues tangled, his arms came around me - one up into my hair twisted in the strands, the other around my waist and cupping a butt cheek under my short skirt, but over the top of my knickers - his bare chest against the fabric of my T-Shirt, which was suddenly way too much clothing for my liking.

  He pulled back and lifted my arms, then swiftly removed my top over my head, discarding it to the side of us on the floor. His amethyst eyes hadn't left me.

  "Mine," he whispered. I was seeing a pattern emerging here. Any separation is too much of a separation for both of us, but for the vampire in him it was cause enough to reclaim. It wasn't a supernatural claiming, we'd been through one of those before and there had been little control, this was all measured, managed, directed. He wanted to show me and himself that I was indeed his.

  "Yours," I whispered in reply and watched as his eyes glazed over slightly and a small breath of air escaped his lips.

  He flicked his wrist out from under my skirt and in an instant a multitude of candles, I hadn't even noticed, flickered to life about the room.

  "Soft candlelight, huh?" I asked as he nuzzled into the side of my neck, one hand still twisted in my hair the other deftly undoing my bra-strap at the back. He didn't reply, but in the next instant low music began to waft out of hidden speakers, it took a second for my over dazzled brain to work out who was singing. Lisa Ekdahl - Sings Salvadore Poe. Not at all what I would have expected him to choose, but then Michel was never one to stick to conformities.

  He began stripping me of the rest of my clothing, within seconds I was naked before him. He was still in his trousers and shoes. My hand slipped down to cup his erection through the material covering him and he responded with a scrape of his teeth down the side of my neck. The zip on his trousers came down, the button undid and I slipped my hand inside his boxers and wrapped fingers around his thick and very hard shaft. He thrust his hips towards me, I was thinking it was an unplanned movement, a slight loss of control.

  I loved that I could make him do that. Michel was Mr Control, but with me that mask often slipped.

  His trousers and boxers fell over his hips and he stepped out of them, not removing his lips from my skin or his hands from my body. He kicked off his shoes and socks and then thankfully there was nothing between us at all. Not even air. He walked me backwards, one purposeful step after another, all the while devouring my flesh with his lips and tongue.

  My knees hit the bed and I was falling. He followed me down, his body covering mine as though it was made to do just that, fitting every curve, filling every gap, moulding to the shape of me. It felt divine. He pulled me up the bed in a simple movement, hands at my waist as he knelt above me. My head hit a pillow, his fingers traced up the side of my body, tingling a path across my sensitive flesh, and then he grasped both my hands at either side and lifted them above my head.

  His mouth began plundering mine so I didn't have time to contemplate what his plan was, I was too busy kissing him back. I vaguely felt something soft brush one wrist and then the other, and then his hands came away from mine and trailed back down my body again in deliciously feather-light touches. I moved to stroke his hair and found to my horror and disbelief that I was actually tied to the bed as he had earlier promised. I tugged the velvet restraints slightly and then frowned down at the dark haired head kissing its way across my belly.

  "Michel," I reprimanded. "Undo my hands!"

  "Ungh-uh," he replied incoherently, too busy licking over my hip bone at that moment to give a damn.

  "Michel," I repeated, this time using a little of my Light to get his attention. He just groaned and pushed his body closer to mine in obvious pleasure.

  "Do that again, ma douce," he husked. I huffed and then sighed as his shoulders parted my thighs and his head dipped lower still.

  "I'll get you for this," I promised, and then all thought left me as his clever tongue got to work, closely followed by his magical fingers. In less than ten seconds he had me panting and begging for more.

  Just as I prepared to breach that delicious wave of delight, he pulled back and kissed across my thigh, nuzzling his face into my femoral artery, allowing his fangs to scrape above it in an open tease.

  So, this was how it was going to be?

  I writhed beneath him and then arched my back bringing his attention up to my breasts. It never did take long. His mouth wrapped around one, his fingers tweaked the other and I trapped him between my legs, my calves pinning his thighs in place above me. He rocked his erection against my groin as he devoted all his attention to my breasts. I rocked back against his body seeking the climax he had denied me moments ago. He was so absorbed in my boobs that for a moment I thought it would work, then just as another wave threatened to break over me, he pulled his hips back denying me any contact at all.

  "Bastard!' I breathed in frustration and then promptly attacked him with my Light.

  His body collapsed back against me with a groan of delight and I continued with my previous endeavours. Both of us seeking release. Then, again, when I was so near an
d he obviously was too, he pulled away completely and lay down beside me with a grin.

  "You are mine to play with tonight, ma douce," he announced with a mischievous grin, then rolled on to his back and reached over to the night stand, lifting a bottle of massage oil up and returning to my side.

  "You weren't kidding, were you?" I said, half amused, half impressed.

  He smiled wider. "When have I ever joked about seducing you?"

  He spent the next ten minutes covering me with delicious smelling and delightfully feeling oil. His hands were masters of massage, easing out any tension left over from my confrontation - or lack of confrontation - with Samson. Making me forget our world was in peril, that some vampire was raising an army against the Iunctio, and almost half of its Council were against my kindred and prepared to get to him through any means, including me.

  By the time he had covered my entire body I was putty in his hands. Happy moans were slipping out every other second, my body languidly moving with each touch of his hands, my eyelids drooping, my mouth slightly open and short but delectable pants coming in quick succession. I wasn't the only one in Heaven. Michel watched my responses avidly, his eyes flashing amazing combinations of amethyst, indigo and violet. He venerated my body, he sought my pleasure at the touch of his fingertips and he took his sweet time doing it all.

  "Michel," I pleaded, my skin so sensitive that it was actually starting to feel a little like torture, my body so turned on I thought I would die if I didn't have him inside me before too much longer.

  "What do you want, ma belle?" he whispered, his fingers listlessly stroking down my side and over my hip to my thigh and then back up again.

  "You," I breathed.

  He appeared above me, his handsome face the only thing I could see. "I think I want to taste you again first, ma belle," he said simply.

  "I want to taste you," I argued in return.

  "Really?" He cocked his head to the side watching me writhe beneath him. He was no longer touching me, his body suspended a few centimetres above mine, but still I was unable to lie still. "I would have thought you'd want me inside you," he added with a small smile, as though he was trying to hide his delight at my reactions.

  "I haven't tasted you for so long," I complained in an almost whine, suddenly thinking that was the best idea I'd had in weeks.

  I saw a flicker behind his eyes, something flashed there; a hunger, a desire that matched my own. He swallowed a couple of times and I watched his Adam's apple dip, it was obvious he was really fighting his reaction to my words and then he lost the battle. He moved swiftly above me, placing himself directly over my face, with one hand he palmed his straining erection, stroking the length of it before my eyes. I whimpered and moaned, he whispered something that sounded decidedly like, "Fuck." But Michel wasn't one to usually use that word, so I thought I must have misheard him.

  Then I watched mesmerised as a pearl appeared on the tip of his sex, he ran a finger over the broad flat head smearing the substance around the surface and then I couldn't stop my pain-filled groan and the writhe of my body beneath him.

  "You want this?" he asked in a low and husky voice.

  I nodded, unable to talk anymore, just pleading with my eyes for him to put me out of my misery.

  "Take it," he commanded, shifting himself to a better angle, placing the tip of his erection to my lips.

  I greedily licked the surface and watched as his nostrils flared and his eyes closed to half mast, and then I tipped my head up and sucked as much of the long length as I could manage in my mouth. He groaned aloud, I sucked and licked harder and faster with that little encouragement, groaning and writhing beneath him myself. The more I sucked, the faster I took him, the harder his hips thrust back. He was losing control and I was watching the entire scene from front row seats as his walls tumbled around him and he let me see him bare.

  I wanted so desperately to touch him, my hands shaking the ties with force above my head as I tried to pull free. It was torture, but the restriction of not being able to use my fingers to satisfy my desires, meant I had to rely on my mouth. I had never thought my lips and tongue could be so sensitive, or deliver such delight on their own before. But they were all I had at my mercy, so I used them in every way possible, shutting down all other sensations and only concentrating on what I could do and feel with my mouth.

  "Mon dieu!" Michel almost shouted above me, his movements demanding, his body coated in sweat, his eyes fully magenta now. I could see him straining for control, trying not to fall over the edge and come, but unable to pull away from the pleasure I was giving.

  Maybe it was the whole picture, the lead-up to this moment; the flirting in the sitting room, the candles, soft lighting and low music. The massage definitely played a part. Even the velvet strips tying me to the bedpost, I was sure. He was watching me move, his eyes trailing over my entire body beneath him, then to my lips and tongue on his shaft, my face betraying my own pleasure and then finally flicking back up to the soft restraints on my wrists.

  He liked that I was trapped beneath him. This didn't alarm or surprise me, I knew how Michel loved me, but I also knew he was vampyre. To have one's prey cornered was too much to resist. I was his kindred, his love, but tonight he had methodically hunted me, from when we arrived in that sitting room and he made his intentions clear, until now. He'd had a plan and he'd executed it. And now he was reaping the rewards.

  Come, I encouraged in his mind. His eyes flicked back to me and then closed briefly. He jerked in my mouth a couple of times, struggling for control and then failing. I felt his shaft strain and thicken. I increased my efforts and then the moment I knew I had won, he pulled out, shifted down my body and replaced his erection with his lips and tongue. He kissed me completely, making me gasp with his purposeful pursuit of my mouth. I felt his warm seed spray against my stomach between us, his body shuddering above me and his loud groan flowing down my throat as he continued to kiss me senseless.

  "Mon dieu," he said for the second time. His face nestled into the curve of my neck, his body now pressed to mine with most of his weight still on his arms beside my head. But his groin firmly against my stomach, smearing his release between us in a deliciously warm and sticky mess. I loved it. "You are impossible to resist, ma douce." he whispered, his tongue licking at my earlobe.

  "So are you," I replied, feeling the slight beginnings of frustration. I really hadn't thought this all through. I had gotten my way, definitely, but in the process lost the chance for release myself. Damn.

  He began to chuckle above me, then shifted his hips bringing my attention to the fact he was still rock hard. I whimpered in anticipation, he pressed himself firmer into me, ensuring I felt every delicious inch of his hard length.

  "Was there something else you wanted?" he asked on a grin. I could feel the tipped up edges of his smile against my skin.

  "I wouldn't want to put you out or anything," I shot back.

  "I have time," he quipped.

  Then he shifted his hips again, placing himself between my legs, the tip of his shaft at my entrance... and then waited. I wrapped my legs around him, tilted my pelvis thinking that would be all it took, but he still didn't move a further inch inside.

  "Say it," he commanded in a whisper. "Tell me want you want."

  I tugged on the restraints above me in frustration. He was clearly still on the hunt for my capitulation and wouldn't give in until I gave him all of me. His eyes flicked up to where I was still tied to the bed, and I watched as desire and lust washed over them, followed by all manner of shades of purple. It was stunning. But I knew I had him. I shifted my wrists again, straining, pulled hard against the velvet making the material dig into my flesh and twisted my hands at the same time.

  He was trapped, his eyes locked on where I was trapped. I licked my lips, continued to strain against the restraints and watched as he lost control, the image of composed vampire falling off his face, being replaced with turned-on, lust-filled male instead
. His eyes flicked down to mine and he muttered, "Always a competition, ma douce," and then thrust his hips sinking his entire length deep inside.

  I groaned in pleasure and had that quickly kissed away, and then he started to move. For several seconds I was lost in the beauty of it all. The sensation of him moving inside me, the feel of his hard length reaching the very end of me, stretching me delightfully, shifting in a way that made me beg for more against his lips. He quickened his pace, his thrusts becoming more demanding, but I met each movement with an equally demanding thrust of my hips in return.

  "More?" he husked above me. I nodded.

  And then he let himself have free rein. One hand came down and grabbed my thigh, lifting my leg up high and out to the side, the other hand planted firmly against the bed at my head. He pounded into me in a way he hadn't done since the claiming, taking my body with each single movement, claiming me, completing me, devouring me. I screamed as I came in a rush, so much build-up making the orgasm more intense than it normally would be. Michel swore softly above me, his movements faltered slightly and then as he came a second time his fangs pierced the side of my neck above my pulse and the world spun completely out of control.

  He drank down my blood at the same time as drawing our orgasms out with each pull on my vein, the connection of him feeding from me, making the moment suspended in time. His hips continued to rock against me, but the pounding had segued into a grinding that sent me over another edge, making the climax swiftly become something sweet, rather than simply cataclysmic.

  I was in Heaven. Michel was my God.

  Finally he withdrew his fangs and licked the wound closed, his movements slowed even further, meting out the last of our pleasure into a soft haze of delight. He moved, undoing the ties above my head easily and massaging my arms as he pulled me with him, so we stayed connected. And then he tucked me against his side. His hand ran down my back and pulled a blanket over us, as his other hand pressed my cheek against his chest.

  "You are wrong," he whispered into my hair. "It is I who worships you."