Fire In His Kiss: A Post-Apocalyptic Dragon Romance (Fireblood Dragon Book 2)

by Ruby Dixon

  Her thoughts are startled. What? Here? I can tell by her reaction that she is surprised. No, this place is fine to stop if you need to stop. It’s not a home, but it’s not uncomfortable.

  No bad memories?

  Sasha’s small, dark brows furrow. Not really.

  I trail my fingers down her arm. Yet you shiver.

  “I’m nervous,” she admits shyly. “If you just wanted sex I wouldn’t care all that much—”

  Yes, you would.

  “Okay, I would,” Sasha agrees. “But I wouldn’t be anxious about it like this. You’re asking me to like it, and my response is going to determine how you respond, so I feel like I’m potentially ruining things for both of us. It’s much easier to assume that I’m not going to enjoy myself and just go with things.”

  I touch her soft brow. We are connected here, though. In our minds. Now that I am in your head and you in mine, I will not have pleasure if you do not.

  I can feel her flicker of anxiety grow. That’s exactly what I’m worried about. And then you’ll get rid of me, and I can’t go back to Fort Dallas, and—

  Stop it. I graze my thumb over her mouth, the sweet pink softness there, and I can feel that she enjoys that small touch. You had pleasure when you saw your story in your head, did you not?

  Sasha looks up at me, confused. Story in my head?

  Dirk and Ophelia?

  “Oh! The book!” Her cheeks turn bright red. “I can’t believe you spied on my head through that.”

  I was curious. You felt pleasure when their mating was described. Can we not do as they did if you enjoyed it?

  Her face turns even redder. “I don’t know if I remember all of it.”

  How do most human matings start? You can tell me that.

  “With a kiss,” she whispers, her gaze locked to mine. Her heart flutters, and I can feel both her excitement and nervousness. Her mind fills with images of mouths pressing together, of tongues flicking.

  Ah. This kiss. I have seen it before. I did not realize it involved tongues. I am fascinated by the thought and stroke her lower lip with my thumb-claw. Do you know how to perform one?

  “Perform one? I…yes? I guess so?” A little giggle escapes her at the thought, and the sound is sweet and enticing.

  Then show me.

  “Show you?” There’s a little flutter of worry in her belly again.

  Yes. I wish to know how to do it correctly so I can give you pleasure. Do you like to kiss?

  “I…I guess I do. It’s been a long time since I kissed someone because I enjoyed it.” Her thoughts grow dark, and flashes of the human move through her head again.

  Do not think of him, I command, sending my thoughts surging into her mind. Think of me. Show me this “kiss.”

  Her gaze goes unfocused and her attention fixes on my mouth. “Right. Kiss. Okay.” She puts one arm awkwardly around my neck and then leans in. She tries to pull herself closer to me, but her bad arm twinges with pain and she grimaces. “This is hard to do with just one good arm. You’re a little taller than I can reach comfortably to kiss.”

  Immediately, I fall to my knees in front of her.

  Sasha’s eyes widen in surprise, and she chuckles again. “Um. Not quite what I had in mind. Now I’m too tall.”

  Ah, but I am a good height now, am I not? I pull her against me and nuzzle at her torso. She has covered her lovely breasts with these annoying skins—clothing—that humans wear. I want to put my mouth on her flesh and lick her all over, and I share that thought with her.

  I can feel the pulse of heat that races through her, and I feel pleasure in her response. If nothing else, she likes my words. A moment later, though, her worry returns.

  My Sasha is the opposite of me. When she thinks too hard, her worries arrive. When I do not focus my mind, the ravens arrive. We both must work to overcome our problems. I slide my hands up and down her back, gripping handfuls of the annoying clothing she wears. Should we be naked to kiss?

  Her laughter is muffled. “It’s not required, no.”

  But it will make things more pleasant, will it not? I use my claws on the strange material, rending it apart so I can touch the smooth skin underneath.

  Sasha gasps and pulls out of my grip. “You’re tearing my clothing!”

  So?

  “Clothes are important. They’re valuable. No one’s making them like this anymore, so they all matter.” She pulls a shred off her back and frowns at me.

  You have an entire nest full of them, I point out to her, pulling the cloth from her body. As I do, I can see she is wearing even more things underneath. A strange band of fabric with little straps covers her breasts. Can I rip this one?

  “No!” She reaches behind her and moves her arms. A moment later, the material—a bra, according to her thoughts—goes to the ground, and my Sasha is topless.

  I rumble in my throat, because this is much better. I can smell her lovely scent, and now I can feel her soft skin. I think you should never wear these clothes. They are a nuisance.

  “I’m not walking around naked,” she tells me, and there is amusement mixed with her outrage. “Humans get cold when the seasons change. We don’t have fire in our veins like you do.”

  Ah, but you have my fires in your veins, I tell her, my thoughts aroused and pleasant. I pull her against me again and bury my face against her breasts.

  She goes stiff against me, and I know she is thinking too hard about that other human. Did he hold her like this, I wonder, and my mind is filled with gnawing jealousy at the thought. I growl low in my throat, wanting to rip him apart. I regret that I let myself be talked out of my vengeance. The rage threatens to boil over once more.

  “Dakh?” she whispers. “Are you all right?”

  I will be. Just let me hold you. I press my face against her skin and breathe in her scent. In. Out. Sasha. Focus on Sasha. She still wears clothes on her lower half, and I slide a hand down her bottom, tracing it. You will take these off?

  “My jeans? I can, sure. Just don’t rip them, okay?”

  I will not, but you must take them off. My claws long to touch all of you.

  I can feel the quiver in her thoughts. She does not know how to take that, and it fills her with unease. So much unease. It frustrates me. Why does she think I will yet hurt her? Nothing would be further from my mind. She is everything to me.

  She finishes removing her layers and then studies me, her eyes sad. “You’re mad at me.”

  Not at you. I pull her into my arms again.

  “You look unhappy.”

  I am unhappy. My mate does not want my touch.

  “Maybe you’d be better off finding yourself another mate.” Her voice is as sad as her eyes.

  I want no one but you. My thoughts are fierce with my frustration, and I can feel her flinch against me, which only makes it worse.

  “I told you it would be like this.” Her words are a mere whisper. “You’re asking something of me that I’m not sure I can give.”

  I will not accept it. I know that she likes certain touches. I must discover which ones make her want to mate and which ones she pulls away from. Let us kiss, I tell her. Show me how to do it to please you.

  “Oh. Well, um.” She puts a hand on my shoulder, and then her brow furrows. “With you on your knees, I’ll need to lean in to kiss you.”

  What is the best way to do this?

  “There’s no best way, really. Just what’s most comfortable. Our faces should line up, and that might be hard to do if you’re like this.” She gestures at the fact that I’m looking up at her.

  I ponder this. If she sits down next to me, I will be taller than her once more, and I will not have the pleasure of touching her. An idea hits me, and I shift my weight until I am sitting on the floor, my legs crossed in front of me. Then, I pull her down against me and cradle her so she straddles my thigh. I can feel the heat of her cunt against my leg, and now I can put my arms around her. I like this.

  Sasha’s thoughts are fu
ll of surprise. She leans forward against me, her hand going to the back of my neck as she struggles to keep her balance. Her bad arm is still bound with the wrappings she put on it, and she keeps it against her chest as she moves in. I am pleased to see that with her on my thigh, we are closer in height.

  Is this better? I ask her.

  “Are you sure you want to hold me like this?” She seems embarrassed. “I’m straddling your leg.”

  I like this. I like feeling your cunt against me.

  Her cheeks flush red, and I can feel the embarrassment sweep through her again. How strange that she wants to hide her body at all times. As if I do not plan on putting my mouth there shortly.

  With her legs spread to straddle my thigh, her scent permeates the air and my mouth waters in response. I love the musky, delicious smell of her body, so feminine yet primal. I slide my hands down her back and then glide one over the healing wound on her hip. Does this pain you?

  She shakes her head. “I barely notice it anymore. The healing ointments we have at the store help. And it’s really just a scratch.”

  I am still upset that she hurts, though. I slide my hands forward, rubbing over her ribs. And these? Do they still pain you?

  Under my touch, she squirms a little. “That tickles.”

  I can feel the flick of desire rush through her at the touch, though. I say nothing. I want her to relax into my touch, and to do so, I need for her to let down her guard. So, demonstrate a kiss for me.

  “Oh. Right.” She seems distracted, and I can tell from her thoughts that she is still thinking about how her thighs grip mine between them. How her cunt presses against my skin. Her attention is scattered, but she focuses and gazes at my mouth. “You want me to just…lean in and go ahead?”

  I nod. Do as you like with me.

  She scoots a little closer, narrowing the distance between us, and as she does, her cunt rubs against my thigh. I can feel the bolt of desire that shoots through her, though outwardly, Sasha shows no expression. Her fingers tighten against the nape of my neck. “I’m going to put my mouth on yours, and then I’m going to add my tongue, all right?”

  You do not have to explain as you go, I tell her, brushing a strand of long, dark hair off her shoulder. We share thoughts. I will know what it is that you do.

  “Right. I keep forgetting.” She smiles nervously at me. And I keep forgetting I can talk to you like this, too.

  You can. I like that. Your thoughts are almost as warm as your cunt.

  Oh my Lord. Don’t say things like that.

  Why not? I enjoy your cunt very much. I want to explore it with my face.

  Her eyes go wide.

  I am distracting you, I tell her, amused at her response—and the quiver I know I felt inside her. Kissing?

  Kissing! Yes. She leans forward and then pauses, her gaze meeting mine. It’s as if she needs reassurance before she lowers her mouth and brushes her lips across mine in the softest of caresses.

  I remain very still. The feel of her touching me is like no pleasure I have ever felt before. She moves in a little closer, and her thigh brushes against my straining cock, but I do not care. My thoughts are entirely of that soft mouth as it grazes over mine again. Sasha gives me one light, fluttering kiss, and then another, and I can feel the pleasure spike through her. She likes these gentle, brief touches of her mouth to mine, and I will let her continue them for as long as she wants.

  23

  DAKH

  It grows more difficult to hold still as she kisses me, because I want more than just the light touches. I want to feel her tongue flick against mine like she suggested in her thoughts. I want to pull her against me and feel her breasts against my skin. I want her cunt to rub against my thigh once more. I want so many things from her.

  But I cannot push too hard. I need her to lead until she is comfortable.

  Her tongue grazes the seam of my mouth, and then I forget all vows to be silent. I groan, letting my thoughts flood her with how much pleasure that gave me. I can feel her startle, and then a faint burst of delight from her as her tongue meets mine. This tangling of tongues is pleasant, but with my mind connected to hers, it becomes a thousand times more erotic. I can feel how she feels, and because she is not adept at shielding her thoughts from me, I know what pleases her and what does not. I know that she likes it when my hand slides down her back and I pull her closer. And she likes it when our tongues meet and slide against one another. She’s a little frightened of my teeth, but I am careful as she playfully licks at me, and I play in return. My tongue feels different than hers—she is all smoothness—and I enjoy the texture as mine rasps against hers. Judging by her shiver of response, she does as well.

  And because we’re connected in thought, we both know the moment her cunt grows wet.

  Sasha gasps and pulls her mouth free of mine. “You can smell that? Smell me? On the air?”

  I can, I tell her, and the rumble in my chest lets her know how much I enjoy it.

  She leans in and buries her face against my neck. “I’m so embarrassed.”

  Why? There is no scent I love more than that of your juices. I would lick all of them up and savor every drop.

  I can feel her gasp…and the quiver that shoots through her body that tells me that my thoughts both shock and arouse her. Perhaps I am doing this wrong, then. Perhaps I should take control and give her no room to think.

  Only to feel.

  I cup her cheek and bring her face back to mine. I nuzzle her nose. You are my mate. I find every bit of you arousing. I would lick you from the tip of your toe to the top of your head. I would spend countless hours between your thighs, pleasuring you until you can take it no longer. When we mate, it is not about me, my Sasha—it is about what I can give you. Your pleasure becomes my pleasure because we are together in our minds. Do you understand?

  She nods, her eyes wide and shiny.

  I nip at her lower lip, unable to resist the tempting plumpness of it. She gives a little moan in response, and her mating scent grows thicker. I do not want you to just “endure” my touch. I want your cunt to be slick when I push inside you. I want you ready for me. I want your thoughts as heated as your blood. I kiss her with each declaration, letting my tongue play against hers. Sasha’s thoughts are focused entirely on our mouths and bodies, her pleasure overriding all of her fears.

  Good. This is how I want her. This is how it should be between us.

  I tangle my hand into her thick, dark hair and grab a fistful of it as I kiss her again. I want to put my mouth all over this body, I tell her, sending her a flurry of mental images that match my suggestion. My face buried between her breasts. My mouth on those tight little tips. My tongue trailing down her belly and then delving between her sweet folds.

  She makes a soft little noise, and I can tell she is even more aroused at the images I send to her. I will do more than just send her my thoughts, though. I will prove it.

  I rub my nose against hers and nip at her bottom lip again. Will you allow me to touch you? To do these things to you?

  Her nod of agreement is shaky, but it is a nod. I am pleased. My mate is brave.

  Instead of flinging her to the ground as I want to, I hold her close, sliding my hands up and down her shoulders. I remember the last time I touched her and her mating scent grew thick, it was because I caressed her. I will do so again, I think. It is as much of a pleasure for me as it is for her. I explore her delicate body with my fingers, smoothing them up and down the fragile line of her spine, the flare of her hips, the curve of her buttocks. She is different from a drakoni female. Her skin does not show a hint of scales; she is smooth everywhere, her skin tone even. Her hair is soft and curls against her shoulders, unlike my thicker, stiffer ruff. She has no horns, no claws, nothing to defend herself with. She is just soft and vulnerable everywhere. I should be dismayed by this, because it goes against everything that a drakoni female is.

  In truth, I like it. Everything about her is pleasing. I lean in an
d rub my face against her neck, brushing my lips over her skin. Her scent is thick here, and I can feel her pulse racing through her skin. Touching her is a joy, and tasting her is even better. I trail my tongue along the cords of her neck, and when she shivers, it makes me hungry for more.

  I am going to touch you, I tell her. Everywhere.

  Her little tremble carries no fear, and she gazes up at me with huge eyes. Even if I don’t like it?

  You will like it, I tell her. I will make it so.

  A hint of a smile graces her lips. “You’re not very good at taking no for an answer, are you?”

  I am not, but that is obvious to any that know me. A brief memory flashes through my mind, of sitting around a fire with friends, sharpening swords and laughing about my stubbornness. It is gone as quickly as it appears, and I kiss my mate again, focusing on her. Memories of the past are not as important as what is in my arms right now.

  I continue to press light kisses to her soft skin as I lay her back on the ground. This place is hard and rough, I realize, as I set her gently on her back. I should have picked someplace better. Softer. Something like in her story, with the blanket on the ground by the water. It was only my impatience that made me pick this spot. I was not thinking of her, only of myself. Frustration flicks through my thoughts.

  What is it? she asks, nervous. Your eyes are turning black.

  I am upset that I did not pick a better place to woo my mate. I forget that you are not drakoni. That your skin is more fragile, your bones more delicate. I let my hand skim down her front, from her breasts to her hips. This is not a good place to mate.

  She relaxes. “You’re thinking of me? That’s sweet, Dakh. I’ll be fine, I promise. Just don’t be too rough.” And that tiny flick of fear returns to her thoughts.

  I would only be rough if you wished for me to be so. I lean over her smaller form and nuzzle at her throat again. I will be very careful with you. I have no greater treasure. I flick my tongue against the base of her throat. Shall I start with your cunt or your breasts?