The Stone Warriors: Dragan

by D. B. Reynolds

  Sighing when he pulled her against his side, she rested her head on his shoulder and slid her arm over the bare skin on his chest, spreading her fingers out to better appreciate the firm planes. She scraped her nails experimentally over the tight nipples that were so different from her own. He sucked in a sharp breath, his body tightening beneath her hand, as if he liked it. Emboldened, she smoothed her fingers down over his belly, followed the thin line of dark hair to his abdomen, and paused to appreciate the hard ridges of muscle. She moved to explore even lower, but he suddenly grabbed her hand with a soft oath.

  “By the gods, Mae. I’m not that strong.” Pulling her over and onto his chest, he glanced down and twisted a single finger under the strap of her tank top. “Take this off.”

  Her hands were shaking just a little bit when she sat up, straddling him as she grabbed the bottom of the tank and lifted it off over her head.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered, staring at her breasts in open admiration. “Come here.” He pulled her back down, so that her naked breasts were crushed against his chest. A gasp of pleasure escaped when her nipples scraped his bare skin. The sensation was unbelievably wonderful. The heat, the muscle, the sheer masculinity of him was a hard caress over her softness, and she found herself rubbing against him like a cat.

  A hum of pleasure fell from her lips. “You feel so good,” she murmured. “I had no idea.”

  “I’m yours to explore,” he offered, sliding his hands down to slip beneath the lace of her panties. “But I’m not made of stone anymore.”

  “Oh,” she breathed. “You’ve been . . . alone, for so many years, and I’m—”

  “Take your time, sweet. I’m in no hurry.”

  She lifted her head to study his face, judging his expression, but he only smiled, as if they really did have all the time in the world. Taking him at his word, she leaned up to kiss him, intending to do no more than brush his lips, but desire flared to a blazing flame between them, burning hotter and hotter as their kiss deepened into something desperate and irresistible.

  Slipping her over and under him, he cupped her breasts in both hands, never breaking their kiss as his fingers pinched and scraped over nipples that were already drowning in sensation, making them ache for something more, something she didn’t understand.

  Until his kisses slid down over her neck to her collarbone, his teeth closing tightly enough over the delicate arch that it should have hurt, but didn’t. She was still absorbing the erotic pain of his bite when his lips sealed over her breast, sucking the soft mound into his mouth as his tongue danced a delicious circle over and around her nipple.

  Her eyes closed, unable to process the overload of fresh eroticism. But then his teeth closed over one taut peak, and she had to bite back a scream of pleasure. She’d never have guessed . . . would never have thought a man’s bite—Dragan’s bite—could feel that good.

  She heard someone moan and realized she’d lost the ability to hold back her response. She didn’t care, didn’t have the brain cells left to care, because his talented mouth had moved to her neglected breast, while his fingers continued to play with the nipple he’d teased into a plump mound, wonderfully tender and slick from his attention. Running her fingers through his long hair, she scraped her nails over his scalp, and lifted one leg to wrap around his hip. She barely recognized herself in this wanton, greedy woman. But, oh God, it felt good. He felt good.

  His hand slid down to stroke her thigh, then back up to cruise over the lace of her panties. “Do you like these?” he growled, his voice dark and hungry . . . for her? Her chest tightened and for a moment she thought she’d cry, because the emotion was so strong. But then he ripped her panties with a single jerk of his hand, exposing her to his gaze, and she wanted more. Wanted him to soothe the ache between her legs with the hard length of the cock pressed against her thigh. Wanted to feed the desire burning her up from the inside. She wanted Dragan in a way she’d never wanted anyone, never even thought about anyone before.

  She had a moment to worry that she didn’t know how to—And then she was crying out with desire as his fingers slid smoothly into her pussy, heating her from the inside, making every nerve ending in her body come to sizzling life. She’d thought herself wanton when he’d tormented her breasts, but that was nothing compared to the craving making every part of her hunger for his touch. Her body rippled, wanting to slide her skin over his, to caress those magnificent shoulders and bite his neck, to wrap her fingers in his hair and pull his mouth against hers.

  He growled, a low and dangerous sound. “Mae, if you don’t want this—”

  “I want it,” she insisted immediately, stroking the long, smooth line of his back, the dip of his spine, stopping only at the firm globes of his ass, before looking up to meet his gaze. “I want you,” she said softly.

  His calloused finger rasped against her skin when he caressed her cheek, then leaned down to kiss her again as his fingers smoothed over the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, as his narrow hips spread them wide, and she felt the weight of his shaft, so hard and hot under the velvet brush of his skin.

  She held her breath, anticipating the rigid push of his cock, but he took his time, teasing her with kisses, licking and sucking her neck, squeezing her breasts while he pinched her nipples over and over again between thumb and forefinger. By the time he was finished, she was trembling with need, breathing so hard, she saw stars and thought she’d pass out. But she pulled herself back from the brink, not wanting to miss a single kiss, a single caress . . . not a single moment of Dragan.

  When he lifted away from her with a biting kiss of her neck, she shifted uncertainly, not knowing what to expect. But Dragan didn’t hesitate. Sliding down between her legs, licking an erotic line of heat from her breasts to her pussy, he spread her thighs even wider to accommodate his shoulders and framed her sex with roughened fingers. His breath was cool on her hot pussy as he bent closer, his tongue a shock of sensation as he licked the full length of her slit, once, twice, then pressed the swollen lips wide, leaving her completely open to his gaze.

  Maeve’s entire body heated as she clutched the sheets to either side, not knowing what to do with her hands. But then Dragan looked up from between her thighs, his eyes seeming to reflect the small amount of light in the room when they caught hers. “Touch your breasts, Mae,” he murmured. “Let me see how good it feels.”

  Her breath left in a rush of mingled hunger and embarrassment. She’d played with her breasts, but never in front of anyone, never for a man.

  Dragan closed his lips over the bundle of nerves that was her clit and sucked. A jolt of stunningly carnal pleasure speared her womb, spasming muscles in her abdomen before spiking up to her breasts and shrinking tender nipples into throbbing peaks of desire. Desperate to soothe the cravings of her body, she did what he’d asked, squeezing her breasts and pinching her aching nipples, just as he’d done. Anything to relieve the ferocious longing that had taken root in her soul and wouldn’t let go.

  “Dragan,” she gasped as her back bowed, arching her off the bed, “I don’t . . . oh God, it all feels so good.”

  He gave final long, slow lick, his tongue like sandpaper over her now hypersensitive clit, and then crawled the length of her body, dipping low enough that she felt every powerful muscle as he covered her, as the uncompromising length of his erection moved up to lie with blatant intent against her thigh. When he shifted to nestle his cock between the lips of her pussy, he stroked the rigid weight back and forth in a slick glide through the silky cream of her arousal, his tongue matching every stroke over the smoothness of her neck, the curve of her ear.

  “I can make the ache go away,” he murmured. “But it will hurt at first.”

  Maeve knew the anatomy of a woman’s body, knew what he meant by that. And she didn’t care. All she wanted was what he’d promised, something to soothe the terri
ble aching need. Unable to form words, she ran her hands over the sleek muscles of his back, and dug her fingers into his ass, urging him downward.

  He kissed her then, and she tasted herself on his lips, on the flat of his tongue as it twisted around hers. He lifted his hips just enough to get a hand between them, to grip his cock and position it in her opening. . . . And then he was pushing inside her, one slow inch at a time, moving deeper and pulling out, then sliding that one inch more, stretching her inner muscles until all she could feel was the solid width of his penis as it slid deeper and deeper. A sudden, sharp pain made her gasp, but he kissed her, murmuring apologies, promising never again, before plunging forward to fill her completely.

  She felt stretched beyond full, but when Dragan went to pull out, she thrust her hips upward, wanting more. He cursed softly and began moving in time with her thrusts, a slow, steady rhythm that overloaded her already heightened senses and made her breath squeeze in her chest. She clung to him, desperate for an anchor, for something to hold her in place as she drowned in a tidal wave of passion that she’d never known before, had never believed could be this good.

  Dragan reached down to grip the cheeks of her ass, lifting her just enough that her body opened even more, letting him go so much deeper and setting off a flare of desire that shivered over her skin, making her breasts swell. She dug her nails into his back and hung on, needing the scrape of her nipples over his chest, the heat of his breath as he covered her mouth with his in a hard kiss that was guaranteed to leave her lips torn and bleeding. She wanted him like she wanted her next breath, wanted the shock of exquisite pleasure that had her womb clenching in anticipation, making her inner muscles clamp down on the hard length of his cock as he stroked in and out. Her orgasm struck without warning, lifting her entire body off the bed, tightening every muscle with painful force, until the hot rush of Dragan’s climax set off a fresh wave of pleasure, and she could only scream as they tumbled off the precipice together.

  DRAGAN CLOSED HIS eyes as he held Maeve against his chest, his cock raw with sensation after so long a time trapped in that damn stone. Their hearts were beating a hard rhythm, their breaths gasping in and out. He’d wanted to make love to her slowly, to gentle her into her first time. But he hadn’t counted on the strength of her desire, the way she’d scraped his back bloody, the taste of her arousal, or the vise-like grip of her body on his straining cock. She’d been so fucking tight, so silky wet, so damn hot. Her pussy had wrapped him in its demanding grip and he’d lost it. It had been everything he could do not to flip her over and take her from behind, ass in the air and legs spread while he grasped her firm hips and pounded away his centuries of frustration. But there’d been no time. He’d slipped into that satiny glove of wet heat and it had been all he could do to wait until he felt the ripple of her orgasm, the rush of her creamy climax while her sheath stroked demanding fingers along his length, urging him to release his seed deep inside her. And he had. By the gods, he had. He’d kissed her hard and swallowed her scream, trying to trap his own howl in his throat.

  “You okay, Mae?” he murmured, caressing his hand up and down her back in a soothing motion.

  She smiled without opening her eyes. “Great,” she answered fuzzily. “Perfect.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “Sore?”

  “Don’t know. No feeling yet,” she muttered.

  He grinned and pulled her fully on top of him, her legs against his in such a way that he could feel the wet heat still pulsing between her thighs. He went rock hard all over again, and she gasped.

  “So soon?”

  “It’s you,” he said softly. “You make me . . . hungry,” he ended on a growl, before he got control of himself and remembered who she was. “But I don’t want to hurt you. And it will hurt,” he added, when she would have protested. “We’ve got that big tub in the bathroom there. Maybe we’ll take a soak together.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he croaked. “As long as you’re in there with me.” His cock jerked as the image of her lying naked between his legs, her ass against his groin and all that soothing, hot water swirling around them. He closed his eyes, trying to think of something, anything, to ease the tight fist of desire threatening to overtake his reason.

  “I wouldn’t mind doing it again,” she murmured. “I’m not that—”

  “We’ll see how you feel in a bit,” he said quickly, before she could erase his good intentions. He wrapped his arms around her and rolled off the bed, taking her with him. A man could only resist so much temptation. Especially when he’d gone centuries without a woman. “Let’s get you into that bath before I forget myself and fuck you dry.”

  She should have been shocked. He was shocked that he’d said it. But instead she responded in all seriousness, and speaking in a small voice she said, “I don’t feel dry.”

  He groaned. “The fates hate me.”

  The bath was as hot and soothing as he’d hoped, but it didn’t last long. Maeve was asleep in his arms almost before they settled into the water, her breasts soft mounds against his chest as she turned to her side and wrapped an arm around his ribs. He remained in the water past the time her breathing took on the slow rhythm of sleep, enjoying the peace and affection of the moment.

  Too soon, however, the water began to cool, and rather than disturbing her to run fresh water and reheat it, he slid his arms under her and stood. Water splashed over the sides, adding more to the puddle when he stepped carefully out of the tub with her in his arms. She murmured wordlessly, wrapped one arm over his shoulder, and settled back to sleep. His arms tightened as he shifted her higher on his chest, needing to hold her closer, to keep her safe. And when he dipped his chin to inhale the fresh scent of her hair, his heart clenched painfully. He’d never loved anyone the way he did her. She’d somehow slipped beneath his guard and shone a sweet, warm light on his black soul, bathing the shriveled thing in life.

  “I’ll keep you safe, Mae,” he whispered against her sleeping cheek.

  “Mmm-kay,” she surprised him by whispering back, though her eyes never opened. “And I’ll keep you safe, too.”

  Chapter Eleven

  THEY SLEPT LATE the next morning, Maeve wrapped in Dragan’s arms, feeling utterly warm and content, despite the lone sheet being their only bed covering. He tightened his embrace when she stroked her hand over his forearm, and bent his head to rub his cheek over her hair. She smiled. She felt different this morning. Not because she’d had sex. . . . Well, not only because of that. Although the experience had been far more enjoyable than her wildest imaginings. She still ached between her thighs, though it was a good kind of ache, the kind that made her feel . . . like a woman. She’d never say that out loud. Even in her thoughts, it sounded like something they’d say on one of those romance movie channels. But it was true. Her pussy was tender and so overstimulated that she was sure even the lightest brush of a finger would send fresh shock waves rolling through her body. And now that she’d experienced a real orgasm . . . well, hell, she didn’t know how anyone could just go about their lives after something like that. For the first time, she understood how a person could get addicted to sex.

  “What are you thinking?” Dragan’s deep voice interrupted her internal monologue.

  “Oh, you know, just . . .” She cleared her throat self-consciously, and he chuckled as one big hand smoothed down to cup her possessively between the thighs. Maeve squirmed slightly.

  “Are you sore?” His breath was a brush of warmth against her ear.

  “A little,” she admitted. “Mostly inside.” An embarrassed blush heated her cheeks. “Sorry,” she whispered so softly, she wasn’t sure he’d hear.

  “I’m the one who should apologize. I was too rough for an innocent.”

  “I’m not innocent,” she protested immediately. “I gave full consent and participated in every
minute of it. And you weren’t too rough, either.” Was he trying to denigrate the best night of her life? No way! “I loved it,” she said, on the verge of being angry.

  He made a wordless hissing noise and hugged her tighter. “Don’t get your temper up, sweet Mae.” He slid a wet fingertip between the tender lips of her pussy and began teasing her clitoris, oh so gently. “Does that hurt?” he whispered.

  A shiver rippled over her abdomen and up to her breasts, making her nipples stiffen against the arm he had around her chest. She shook her head. “No,” she breathed, adding a soft moan of pleasure when he added a second fingertip and pinched her clit between them. “Are you . . . that is, are we . . .”

  “Would you like to? You’re sore and—”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes what?”

  “Yes, I want to do whatever it is you’re doing. It—” She swallowed, feeling too bold, too blatantly hungry. But he’d asked. “It feels good,” she whispered.

  “Sweet Mae. You’re delicious, do you know that?” He licked her cheek with a slow stroke.

  That felt good, too. Everything he did felt good. Was she becoming his sex slave? Good God, Mae, she scolded herself. Sex slave? Get a fucking grip.

  “Thank you?” she said in a small voice, not at all sure of the appropriate response.

  He licked her again, but this time he turned her head slightly and ended up kissing her mouth. And all the while his calloused fingers continued their delicate caress of her increasingly aroused clit. She could feel wetness growing between her thighs as pleasure spread from her clit downward, making her want to spread her legs to give him greater access.

  As if he’d read her mind, he slipped his finger down and dipped it into her sex, sliding it in and out, mimicking the thrust of his cock, while all the time his thumb maintained exquisite pressure on her clit.