by Jory Strong
Unable to control himself, his hands left her hips to reclaim the luscious weight of her breasts with their large, large nipples. “You have the body of a fertility goddess,” he murmured, taking tight nipples prisoner between his fingers, tugging and squeezing in time to the rub of his cock against her clit.
He wanted to spew his seed across her belly, to massage it into her skin as if she were polished onyx, to carry it downward, beneath the waistband of her panties to coat her pussy with it.
Imagining it was nearly enough for it to manifest in reality. His buttocks clenched, the scorching heat of his desire burning away a little bit more of his magic so the ache at his wrist became the near drop of his mating spurs.
For a split second he balanced on the edge. She didn’t have to drink from the cup. She didn’t have to agree to be his mate for it to become truth. She didn’t have to consent to be taken to the dragon realm.
No male would challenge his decision to take possession of her in the time-honored way of their kind when it came to human females.
Except his life was here. As was hers.
He dropped his hands to her hips, the nearness to her abdomen only intensifying the temptation to rake her with his talons. His grip tightened in an effort to resist dragon instinct to let the spurs descend from their sheaths and fill with serum. Holding her still, he brought her to release with just the rub of his cock against her cloth-covered folds and clit, and nearly followed her into ecstasy.
“I could ease you more thoroughly on the bed,” he said, licking over the place he’d marked where neck met shoulder.
“I’ve still got my panties and heels on,” his mate said, tormenting him.
He kissed her neck. His hands returned to her breasts, palms grazing over her nipples before sliding downward, stroking her belly then tracing the waistband of the sheer fabric separating her from the cock still pressed between her legs.
“I could rid you of both.”
“Only if you win.”
He smiled against her delicious skin, and purred, “I will.”
Chapter Six
Tielo won scant minutes later.
She should lose the heels, but the way he looked at her, eyes traveling up and down her body, glittering with male appreciation and possessiveness, had her shimmying out of the panties so they dropped to her ankles like lacy handcuffs.
He stared at them there, hand fisting around his cock, pumping it, totally uninhibited when it came to her effect on him.
In just her heels, Lyra felt like the only woman capable of holding his attention, the only one capable of arousing him.
“You can’t think I’ll let you return to your seat without tasting you, without hearing you scream my name.”
His words were like mainlining lust. She was only surprised she didn’t join her panties in a drop to the floor.
He came to her, easily lifting and placing her on the table, the impact collapsing several golden towers and scattering the coins like rose petals.
“Spread your legs,” he ordered, and when she did, he forced her knees closer to her chest, so the heels caught on the railing of the table.
“Mine.” Guttural. Growled. And her hips lifted from the felt, primal woman offering herself to the male who’d won her by natural selection.
He swooped, his breath striking her pussy before his lips did, like flames escaped with a dragon’s dive on treasure. He gave her cunt an open-mouthed kiss. His tongue plunged into her opening in a dominant thrust, in a hungry claiming of her essence. He fucked through wet, swollen folds until she came on a scream, inhibitions gone to the point she didn’t care if all those on the other side of the office door heard and knew she’d orgasmed for Tielo.
Tielo couldn’t hold back the purr of satisfaction. He lapped the insides of her thighs and sweet, puffy cunt lips. He memorized the sight of her vulva parted like a dark, erotic flower, glistening from his mouth and her desire.
He cleaned her as thoroughly as she’d cleaned his cock, longed to do it in his first form as they basked on the ledge of his lair. Arousal continued to escape her luscious opening, sliding down over her back entrance. He’d take her there on another day, perhaps even tomorrow. Now it was time to end the foreplay and get to the main event so he would finally be free to reveal the full truth to her.
“I’ll call for the Dragon’s Cup and then we’ll retire to the bedroom.” Not that he intended children immediately, but only a fool wouldn’t avail themselves of the opportunity to restore fertility at finding a mate, and he was no fool.
She’d sleep for hours once his spurs pierced her skin, injecting the serum. It was a useful adaptation in the days when humans might easily die of fright on the flight to a high, rocky lair. “We can finish the poker game another evening. The outcome of it no longer matters.”
His words poured ice into Lyra’s system in a way nothing else might have. “No,” she said, intensely aware of the felt against her back and buttocks, of the way she lay, thighs still splayed, hardly recognizing herself anymore.
Her heartbeat ratcheted up with thoughts she’d been drugged.
No. No. She didn’t believe that. Aislinn wouldn’t have given her the invitation if that were the case. And Pierce was married to a cop, a cop she happened to know and respect.
“No,” she repeated, and not even Tielo capturing her clit and sucking changed her answer. It couldn’t. The outcome of the poker game mattered. Maybe not to him, but to her.
She wasn’t here for herself, despite the possibility of meeting a man. She’d come here with a desire to do good, because she cared about Nicolas and Sebastian and their family.
Lyra rolled from the table, the sweat on her skin turning cold. Goose bumps rose and the pound of her heart moments earlier seemed sluggish compared to the thunder of it now. She’d lost the huge chip advantage. In the fog of lust and the sexual distraction that was Tielo, what had taken several of the club’s employees to carry into the office would now fit in a single chip rack.
She trembled, not need this time but the beginnings of panic and doubt and guilt. How had she lost herself so totally in the fantasy? Of dragons and Tielo?
Was this what gambling had been like for her biological father? Not sex, but the glorious escape into a dream radically different from often hard reality?
With trembling hands she picked up the dress and slipped it on like armor. But the touch of the material to skin that had known Tielo’s hands and mouth left her feeling vulnerable rather than strong.
She reclaimed her chair, restacked the tumbled chips that only moments ago had made her think of rose petals scattered in celebration of a lover’s tryst.
Her mouth went dry. The weight of each coin added to her guilt.
Sixteen hundred dollars, plus or minus, that’s what each of the coins represented. Even one of them would prolong what seemed inevitable, the Ochoas losing their restaurant, their togetherness as a family if the younger children were sent elsewhere to live and Carlos sold his future by getting involved with a gang. Collectively, the coins meant salvation, though somewhere along the way she’d started thinking of them as chips.
She threw herself into the game with fierce determination.
Dismay grew in Tielo, finding a thread of insecurity and tugging, unraveling it. Doubt crept in as his mate’s scent changed from desire to desperation. Her guilt was a palpable film across his tongue.
Was there another male in her life? Even the possibility was enough to have him battling to keep his flame from escaping in an incendiary rush sure to blacken most of his office.
By the Great Shared Ancestor, was she regretting what she’d done now? He gnashed his teeth to suppress a bellow.
Her focus was now on the game, or more specifically, the gold coins. It was unsettling, even if at another time he would deem such an obsession fitting of a dragon’s mate.
“Take off the dress,” he said, his tone coaxing. “If I’m to lose my chips, at least allow me the pleasure of see
ing you naked.”
She hesitated then complied, jerking the dress over her head, the movement tense rather than the flowing sensuality of before.
He growled, frustrated. Doubt became a club beating at his confidence. He’d been in this realm too long, obviously, if he now worried about her motives.
What did he care if she’d unbuttoned her dress, unwittingly instigating their game of strip poker as a means of distracting him? In the end she’d fallen prey to her own plotting and they’d both enjoyed the consequences.
Insanity. He’d heard tales, of course, of human females driving their dragon mates crazy, of tying them up in knots with their inexplicable behavior and murky motivations.
She’d chosen him! She’d allowed the others, including Jubal and Roque, to be forced away from the larger poker game even when she’d been attracted to them.
Smoke escaped from his nostrils, visible enough her head jerked upward, though the thin streams quickly dissipated.
Something else was going on here. He refused to believe she’d given in to desire, using her body as a means of gaining coin.
She dealt the hole cards. He peeled them back just far enough to see the pair of aces. Perfect.
A glance was all it took and he knew she’d battled back from near defeat. Their stacks of chips were close to equal, enough so an all-in bet would be a death-strike for the loser if called.
An inhalation told him she liked the cards she held. This was it then, their final hand in all likelihood. The next one, if necessary, would only be for cleaning up, so the winner possessed all the chips.
The betting began. Neither of them pushed the other to decide in the initial rounds. She dealt the flop—ace of clubs, king of diamonds and ten of clubs.
Rather than be alarmed, fearing he had an ace to go with the one on the board, excitement slid into the hope he scented on her.
The turn card brought the ace of hearts and her confidence wavered, firming his suspicion she held a king and ten, or possibly two kings. But with the river card of a ten of spades, her excitement became palpable. He became certain she had a full house.
“All in,” she said, believing herself a sure winner.
He took her hands in his, delaying the moment of truth when it came to the cards. Another truth was far more necessary to him. “Why is winning so important to you?”
Exquisite eyebrows arched and the dragon in him purred at her show of backbone. “Are you saying winning doesn’t matter to you?”
His shrug had her frowning and mentally distancing herself from him, if the cool expression that followed was any indication.
“What I’m saying is that given a choice, I’d have carried you away from the table and finished the game another time. In fact, the moment I got you behind closed doors I would have ignored chips and cards in favor of going directly to bed.”
His cock agreed with the notion. Though bathed in the scent of her arousal and with memories of the ecstasy they’d both found at the poker table, he couldn’t regret the games they’d played.
He brushed his thumbs across the backs of her hands. Touching her soothed him. It made his doubts ease to the point he could expose his vulnerability. “Twice I tried to draw you away from poker and twice you refused me. Why?”
Surprise widened her eyes and changed her scent. She stood, hands tightening on his rather than pulling away. She maintained the contact as she moved around the table.
He pushed his chair back, heat searing through his cock as she straddled him, pressing her bare mound to his rigid length.
“You can’t be worried that I’m not interested in finishing what we started?”
“And if I am?”
She shook her head in gentle, feminine rebuke. “What am I going to do with you?”
Love me. But he’d not yet been so softened by his mate that he was ready to confess his newly discovered need. “Tell me why you changed so suddenly.”
“Because despite the fact that I’m now naked with a man—”
His growl forced a correction. “With you. I didn’t come here for myself. Aislinn giving me the invitation seemed like the sign I was looking for. Two of my students became ill during the school year. They nearly died. It was a miracle they didn’t. But their family is in dire straits because of the medical costs. The Ochoas are living in a motel and struggling to stay together and keep their restaurant going. I had this grand scheme of being able to win enough at poker to help them.”
Warmth exploded in his chest at having such a tenderhearted mate. It would be nothing for him to assist this family she cared so much about.
He wouldn’t notice the loss of funds. Against his hoard, the near priceless gems and artifacts he possessed, the modern-era gold coins on the table were very much like pieces of costume jewelry, the paste and plastic baubles humans often wore.
Other than leaving them at the club to gamble with, he had no use for them unless… He smiled as he imagined having some of the coins melted down and turned into a sculpture of his naked mate, a small piece of artwork he’d keep on his desk to commemorate this evening.
In his mind’s eye he could see himself picking it up while they were separated, stroking it like a talisman necessary for getting him through the day. A win and he’d take her completely, making her his mate in the process.
“What’s it going to be?” she asked. “Call or fold?”
A good question.
“Go back to your side of the table.” Though his hands delayed her for a moment by cupping her breasts so he could stroke her nipples. “I have a decision to make.”
She went. And by the time she’d reclaimed her chair, his desire to see her succeed in what she set out to accomplish outweighed his own desire to prove his superiority and then his generosity.
Ignoring poker etiquette, he pushed his stacks of chips into hers with enough force they tumbled and comingled, making separation impossible. “Call.”
A quick flick of her wrist revealed the king and ten, a full house when combined with the king and two tens in the middle.
He tossed his hole cards into the muck with a show of disgust and stood, hoping to distract her from a demand to see them by pulling her into his arms. “The victory is yours. What will you do now? Cash out your winnings and leave?”
He could never let her do it, of course. But he wanted her to choose him, not just for the night, but forever.
A lightning strike of need shot straight to his cock when wicked fingers stroked his nipple, toying with the piercing so that he moaned, his mating spurs about to fully descend. He couldn’t take much more of her torment.
“Lyra.” It was a plea before his lips covered hers, soft persuasion against raging need.
She parted for him, tongue meeting his, rubbing and twining in a mimic of bodies, the dance of male to female before covering and completion.
“Leaving isn’t an option, not unless I can take you home as part of my winnings,” she murmured against his mouth when he allowed her breath. “What if I just stay here and indulge in a sexual fantasy?”
“And what sexual fantasy would that be?”
“We could play the virgin and the dragon. Didn’t you brag you were capable of making me forget I’d ever been with anyone else?”
He couldn’t prevent the growl, though he used the opening to do what he could to prepare her for what was to come. “Be warned, Lyra. I play for keeps.”
Lyra felt him tense against her, playfulness a mercurial shift into seriousness. “A lot of people see relationships as the ultimate gamble, the ultimate game of chance.”
“They don’t know dragons.” He nuzzled her neck, lips both soft and firm. “If I call for the cup, will you drink from it with me?”
She didn’t discount the importance of the question, the commitment to a relationship that it symbolized. For the men of the club and their women, the ritual would be every bit as important and significant as her sister accepting a collar.
Lyra traced the dra
gon on Tielo’s chest, mind shying away from his initial poker play until she forced herself to focus on it. She’d worried he was like her biological father, and feared she was too.
She wasn’t. Neither was Tielo.
“I’ll drink a toast with you.” To being one of those couples who make it.
His purr of satisfaction made her smile.
He gave her a hard kiss before pulling away, leaving her to admire a firm ass and beautifully proportioned male body as he strode toward the bedroom. He entered it, disappearing from sight long enough to snag a man’s button-down shirt before returning to her.
He slipped the shirt on her, buttoning every button as if unwilling to have her reveal an inch more flesh than was necessary. After snagging his trousers from the floor and pulling them on, he used the desk phone, saying, “Henri, have Pierce bring the cup. He can serve as witness.”
Pierce did not come alone.
Guards flanked him, and Lyra imagined there were others outside, covering the windows.
Even in victory, Tielo could hardly stand to have other males see Lyra’s bare legs and be in the presence of her lush scent. He closed the door on the guards, reminding himself that Pierce was an already-mated man.
Pierce’s smug smile further eased him. The fey might think he’d won, but Tielo knew the greater prize was his. A mate. Lyra. And he found he didn’t want to share her with anyone else for days, if not weeks.
The family she’d spoken of didn’t have that kind of time. In fact, come morning, she’d insist on leaving him if he didn’t preempt her reason for it.
First things first. “May others find the same happiness as I have this night,” he said, drinking from the cup before holding it to her lips.
Fiery satisfaction exploded inside him when she drank. When she’d finished, he said, “It occurs to me you might prefer to help the Ochoas anonymously. I have a possible solution.”
Her smile was nearly blinding. Being the focus of it swelled his chest with pleasure.
“What’s your idea?”