Dragon's Curvy Assistant

by Annabelle Winters

  “Do not think. Just feel. It is the only way you can understand this as a human. Do not think,” Arthur whispers, breathing into my hair and sending eddies of warm air through my tresses like wind blowing through a forest. I almost come in my panties at the way his breath feels on my skin, and when he slowly slides his big hand down my rear and cups my equally big bum easily in his palm, I let out a little moan as the wetness flows down my thighs like a river in season.

  “No danger of that,” I gasp, wondering if I just came or if I’m just so fucking wet it’s like I peed myself. “If I were thinking, I wouldn’t have gotten on that plane. If I were thinking, I wouldn’t have even responded to such a ridiculous ad. If I were thinking, I—”

  “I believe you are thinking again,” he says through a grin. “So stop it. Stop it now. Stop it or I will stop it for you.”

  I open my mouth to keep going with my near-hysterical rant, but then I clamp my lips shut when I lock in on those green eyes, dark but seeded with light, seeded with fire.

  And I see it.

  I see it in the deepest part of his blazing irises.

  A dragon.

  A fucking dragon!

  And then my world explodes in fire as Arthur lifts me right off my feet, pulls me into him, and kisses me.

  By God, he kisses me.

  5

  ARTHUR

  The kiss sends fire blazing through my veins, roaring through every muscle and tendon, every sinew and bone. I feel my Dragon scream to life in my soul, and it screeches in my head as it yearns to come forth.

  I almost cannot stop it, but the training of my youth is still alive, and I harden my will and force it to stay in the background until I call it forth. A part of me longs to fly again, but that must wait.

  It must wait for fate.

  The fate that’s in my arms right now, pressed up against my skin.. The taste of her lips is strong in my mouth. The warmth of her curves matches the fire in my blood. The scent of her sex is calling to me like the sirens of old, calling to the man and the dragon, the human and the beast, the good and the bad, the tame and the wild.

  With a grunt I rip the waistband of her jeans, snapping her leather belt along with it as my dragon’s strength flows through me. She flinches with the shock of feeling my big hands slide down her magnificent rump, and I almost come in my silk pajamas when I squeeze hard and pull her buttcheeks apart so I can run two fingers along her divine rear crack.

  “I knew you were mine from the first look,” I mutter, kissing her again and then licking her smooth round cheeks and running my tongue down along her neck. I want to mark every part of her, taste every inch of her, claim every curve, conquer every contour. “My Dragon knew it the moment it smelled your scent.”

  She mumbles something and her eyelids flutter open. Quickly I shut her mind off with a vicious kiss that almost makes my damned knees buckle even as she moans against me. I also shut my own mouth off even though there is so much to say. So much to tell her. So much for her to understand, so much to accept.

  That is just the paperwork, just the finishing touches on a painting that begins with a coincidence, proceeds with a look, and culminates in the madness of our union. So just shut your own damned mind off too, Arthur. Take your mate, and remember who you once were, who you are once again:

  A creature of wing and talon.

  A beast of fire and destruction.

  All-powerful.

  Immortal.

  Invincible.

  Wild as an ocean storm.

  Untamed like a river in flood.

  And now I’m losing it, and with a roar I push her against the wall and rip the shreds of her jeans and panties off her, burying my face in her bush with such force she screams and pulls my hair as she grinds into my mouth.

  I drive my tongue deep into her cunt, curling it upwards and rolling it back and forth, vibrating and jabbing, pulling back and plunging in deep. From behind I spread her clean buttcheeks and slide my middle finger right into her asshole, reveling in how she gasps, tenses up, and then submits as if her body already knows that I’m in charge, I’m in control, that make no fucking mistake here:

  I am claiming her.

  Taking possession.

  Making her mine.

  Mine!

  My Dragon screams in approval, its need to possess and own rising along with mine. I grin wide before flicking her stiff little clit and then licking her slit in long, rough strokes as I bring her to orgasm all over my face and chin, drinking from her and swallowing her sweetness like it will give me more power than even my animal can give. I’m grinning like a fool as I plunge my finger into her rear and make her come again until she’s wailing and thrashing against the stone pillar where I’m holding her upright.

  And then I’m upright, yanking my silk trousers off and tossing them over my head. With a grunt I pull her red top off and then snap her bra off, releasing the most beautiful set of boobs this side of heaven. Or hell, for that matter.

  “I waited three hundred years for these,” I mutter, cupping her big bosom and squeezing until her nipples stiffen into long, erotic points that I tease with my tongue until they’re shining like mountain peaks in the rain. “I’d have waited another three hundred.”

  “Three . . . three hundred?” she murmurs, and I almost kick myself for saying things her brain isn’t ready for yet.

  “It’s a metaphor,” I mumble right before taking her left boob into my enormous mouth and sucking so hard she screams. I slide my hand between her thighs and finger her deep and hard, shutting her mind back off and almost making me explode as she comes all over my hand. “Just like the Dragon comment. Just a metaphor.”

  “Dragon,” she whispers as I move to her other breast and make sure it gets the attention it deserves. “I . . . I saw it.”

  “Saw what?” I mumble, drooling all over her breasts and then licking her clean like the dirty dragon I always was. I like getting messy with my paint, and I’m gonna get very messy with my mate in about a minute. By the Gods it’s good to be an animal again!

  “A . . . a dragon,” she says softly, gasping and tensing up as I press my throbbing “dragon” against her mound and roll its massive head through her feminine curls, spreading my wetness all over her clit, coating her dark, secret lips, coaxing more of her sweetness from where it hides behind her folds.

  She’s dripping down my shaft, all the way down my damned balls, and I shudder and groan as I press my cockhead into her opening and begin to spread her slit. I want to roar to the heavens and ram my way in, but I use the will (and the fucking common sense . . .) of the man in me to realize that I might hurt her if I give too much free rein to the Dragon in me.

  You did warn her it would get rough, whispers my filthy Dragon from inside. Do not hold back. Take her hard and deep. Fill her with all our seed. Then flip her around and do it again, like the animal in us needs. Claim her in every opening. Fill her in every hole. And then let me come forth, Arthur. Let me come forth so we can turn the skies blood-red with Dragonfire. Let me come forth and we will announce to the world that the Dragons have returned. Returned to invade. Returned to plunder. Returned to seize gold and diamonds and everything in between.

  I grin and then grit my teeth as the heat of her pussy beckons me to push all the way in. It takes a moment for my Dragon’s words to register, but when they do a chill goes down my naked back, down to my fucking toes.

  “You know, I’ve been a bit disconnected from the modern world myself,” I say under my breath to my dumb-ass Dragon that’s clearly getting a bit too excited at coming forth again. “But even I know that no one hoards gold and diamonds these days.”

  It’s a fucking metaphor, hisses my Dragon. Now push into her and finish this, Arthur. Finish this so we can begin.

  “Begin what?” I growl as I tease her with my cock but still don’t push all the way in. “What the fuck are you talking about? Begin what, you overgrown lizard?”

  My Dragon is silent,
but in the end it must answer to me. And so it does, and in its ethereal hiss I feel its energy, its raw power, its uncontrollable need to dominate, to conquer, to destroy what it cannot claim, to burn down anything standing in its way, in our way.

  “The world has changed from three hundred years ago, bud,” I whisper. “We’re going to keep a low profile. There will be no grand displays of fireworks. Certainly no fucking destruction. And sorry to burst your bubble, but we are not taking over the damned world!”

  But my Dragon stays silent, and I blink as that chill takes over my body until I’m burning up in the strangest way. It’s been a long time since I spoke to my Dragon. The beast wasn’t dead or dormant. It was alive, in its own world. And just like I have needs and instincts that have been pent up for centuries, so does the beast. A Shifter’s animal is not just a dumb servant. It is its own being, joined with the human. It has its own destiny, and sometimes that destiny forks away from the destiny of the human. That is why the Shifter lives in a state of struggle, a state of conflict, a state that’s always just a bit on the edge.

  And that’s why a Shifter needs a mate.

  “But I must stop,” I whisper, blinking desperately as I look down into her pretty face, the face of my fated mate, what I’ve waited centuries for. “Not until I’m sure I’ll be able to control my Dragon when it comes back to this world.”

  “Are you talking to me?” she mutters, opening her eyes and looking up at me. Her face is streaked with tears from how hard I made her come, and I almost groan out loud as I imagine how her big brown eyes will roll up in her head when I drive all the way into her, fill her until she overflows, take her again and again until . . .

  Yes, that’s it, Arthur, whispers my Dragon. Claim her and then call me forth. You’re running out of time, Arthur. There are not so many Dragons left now. Eventually a Dragon separated too long from its human dies. After that the man will die. You have seen it happen with family and friends over the centuries. We have found our mate and you must not delay. Do not think, Arthur. Don’t think!

  Every muscle in my hard body flexes until I feel like my fucking head’s going to explode. I can smell the aroma of her warm cunt ready and waiting for her mate. But if I claim her now I might unleash something uncontrollable.

  I might release me.

  And with a groan of anguish I pull back from my mate, stretching my neck back and letting out a slow, deep roar as my Dragon screeches in my head, thrashes in my heart, rages in my soul.

  I tell myself to step away, to leave the room, stay far from temptation until I know I’m doing the right thing. But I can’t let go of her. She is my mate and even if I won’t claim her yet, she’s never leaving my fucking side. In fact, she’s extremely vulnerable now that we’ve been connected but the union hasn’t been sealed, now that I’ve defied destiny by choosing to delay what must happen.

  “The Dragon!” she says, breaking me out of what would have been a downward spiral of doubts. “There it is! In your eyes, Arthur! What is that?”

  “It’s a disease,” I mutter, shaking my head and forcing a smile. “And maybe we do need to talk a little before I infect you. Also, what is your name, Fated Mate?”

  6

  ADDIE

  “It’s not short for anything, far as I know,” I say to Arthur. We’re sitting on the open, sun-baked top of a marvelous turret overlooking the emptiness of the Dead Sea. The sun is beastly strong, but I love it.

  Arthur does too, clearly. He’s smiling and staring right into it, and it’s only when I notice that he’s got his eyes wide open that I remember the tiny dragon I saw in his irises. We’re sitting on beach chairs that look surprisingly modern given the whole castle thing, and Arthur is holding my hand with a possessiveness that I literally feel in every fiber in his body.

  “You’re a hoarder, aren’t you?” I say softly as I glance over at him. I’m squinting so deep I’m probably gonna have wrinkles by evening, but I don’t care. For some reason it feels like I’ll be growing old with this man. This “elderly man”—I remind myself with a snicker. “I bet you still have T-shirts from when you were a kid stashed somewhere.”

  Arthur turns his smile to me, and I melt at the way he’s looking at me like we’re old lovers. Old lovers just getting to know each other.

  “When I was a kid they didn’t have T-shirts,” he says quietly, narrowing his eyes and shooting a quick glance up to the left like he wished he didn’t say that.

  I close my eyes and exhale slowly so I can relax. The past hour was a blur, but it’s not like I missed the strange things Arthur has mentioned: Dragons, Shifters, and how he talks in this weird mix of old-timey speak peppered with the occasional bro-ness that’s almost frat-boy modern.

  “Right, cos you’re five hundred years old,” I say. “Or was that a metaphor too. I kinda lost track of things for a moment back there.”

  Arthur clears his throat and squeezes my hand. “I hope I was not too rough. I will be very careful when I claim you. It will take some time for your body to get used to my power.”

  I glance up at him, trying to figure out if he’s for real or if this is just some chest-pounding bro-ness that he’s putting on. But he’s completely nonchalant, totally calm, speaking matter-of-factly like he really is describing how our future sex-life is gonna get rough!

  I swallow hard as the panic threatens to bubble up and overwhelm me, pull me down and drown me. But my hand is still firmly in Arthur’s grip, and even though a part of me is panicking, I can’t imagine pulling away. I feel that protective energy that’s strong in Arthur along with the need to possess and own. The panic isn’t because I’m scared of Arthur.

  It’s because I’m scared of myself.

  Scared of what I’ll do if he tells me his secrets, if he opens up his fortress and invites me in, if he lets me look inside his vault and then choose whether I want to share in whatever lies within.

  “Who are you?” I whisper. “What are you?”

  Arthur’s strong jawline tightens and those green eyes narrow as he takes a long, slow breath. “You really want to know, Addie? You’d never believe me. And if you did believe it, you’d run a million miles from here.”

  I look down at the silk robe I’ve got wrapped around me, my bare piggies sticking out from the bottom, all pink from the sun. “Not dressed like this, I’m not. Go on. Answer the question. I can handle it.”

  Arthur takes another slow breath, studying my face like he’s reading me. “No. You answer the question.”

  I frown. “Um, if I knew the answer I wouldn’t be asking, genius.”

  Arthur grins. “First you asked me who I was. But then you asked what I was. Which means you already know something about me. More than you’re willing to admit.”

  I blink and look away. Then I shake my head. “You’re right. I’m probably not ready for the answer. Probably not ready for any of this.”

  “No,” Arthur says in that matter-of-fact way. “But you will be. And I will need you to be ready.”

  “What does that mean? Ready for what?”

  Arthur’s gaze travels down my neckline and down along my curves. Then he smiles in a way that makes me very, very nervous in the weirdest way.

  “Remember when you thought you saw a dragon in my eyes and I told you it was a disease?” he says softly.

  “Yeah, what about it?”

  “Well,” says Arthur in a low growl as he calmly swings his long, heavy legs off his chair and turns to face me. “Prepare to be infected.”

  And before I know what’s happening, Arthur yanks me into him, opens his big maws wide, and sinks his teeth deep into my fucking neck!

  My whole world goes black, and I know I must be dying from the blood loss. But for some reason I don’t feel the sticky warmth of my blood. Neither do I feel like I’m being drained by Arthur.

  No, he’s not drinking my blood.

  He’s . . . he’s . . .

  He’s putting something into my blood!

 
7

  ARTHUR

  I didn’t plan to do it.

  I didn’t intend to Turn her.

  Dragons don’t “Turn” humans.

  In fact, far as I know, Dragons can’t Turn humans.

  Dragons are born to burn, designed to destroy, primed to pillage and plunder. Genetic engineering is a bit above the thinking capacity of an overgrown lizard with destruction in its eyes.

  “Arthur,” she whispers, her face ashen, her big brown eyes wide open like she’s not sure if I’m about to fucking eat her or just kill her.

  But I’m not going to kill her. She isn’t even bleeding, in fact. Thanks to my meticulous study of the human body for my art (hey, my idol is Leo . . . DaVinci, not DeCaprio), I knew exactly how to bite her so the sharp point of my right canine delicately entered her jugular vein. I did it with such precision that just the pinprick of penetration was enough to put something in her vein. Now I’m holding my mouth there to make sure her precious, beautiful blood doesn’t escape through the tiny hole.

  “Veins carry blood back to the heart,” I murmur into her neck as I hold my gentle bite and cradle her like she needs right now. “It just takes a drop of my essence, and when it reaches your heart, Addie . . .”

  I trail off when I hear her heart skip a beat and then starting pounding like it’s just been taken to another level. I blink in surprise, wondering if she’s about to have a heart attack or if . . . if . . .

  “What’s happening to me, Arthur?!” she gasps, her eyes snapping into focus so fast I almost release my tender grip on her wound.

  But then I release my grip anyway.

  Because I feel it.

  I feel the Dragon being pulled into existence from that realm of magic and mystery.

  I feel the Dragon.

  Her Dragon.

  “Your vein has already healed,” I say softly, stroking her cheek as gently as I can with fingers that are trembling with excitement. “It is the healing power of Dragonblood. It’s working, Addie! It’s fucking working! This is wonderful! It’s just—”