by Ruby Dixon
Curious, Sam reaches out to my hair and grabs a handful of suds, lifting them to his face and sniffing. He inhales a bit of the bubbles and then snorts in outrage, swiping at his nose. It's hard not to laugh at the indignant look on his face, but I somehow manage. “Here,” I tell him, getting another handful of fresh shampoo and then holding it out. “I can wash your hair for you.”
He scowls at my hand, his expression fierce, but I'm going by the shade of his eyes. He's still calm for now, so I'm going to be a little bolder. I move closer and reach up, putting the soap in his hair. Then, I lift my other arm and begin to rub it in.
His hair feels different than my own. The strands are thicker, almost wiry, and they seem to have a life of their own. I can only imagine the industrial-strength knots he must have in this mass, because normally it looks like a thick cloud attached to his head. Wet, it brushes against his hips and cascades down his back. I add more shampoo to my hand and turn him around (with a gentle touch to his shoulder) and keep soaping his hair. By the time the entire thing is soaped up and ready to wash, he's practically twitching with impatience.
“Now we rinse,” I tell him, and demonstrate. He mimics me once I step out of the stream, using the water to rub the last of the soap out of his hair. I add conditioner to my own hair, because it's a luxury I don't often get. When I offer him conditioner for his hair, he growls, clearly not a fan of all of the washing. “For me?” I ask in my sweetest voice, giving him a pleading look. “It'll make it so much easier to comb out, I promise.”
When I reach out to put the conditioner in his hair, he stands still, his look one of aggrieved patience. He's definitely doing this just for me and it's sweet. I can't help but smile as he turns so I can condition his long, long sweep of hair with additional palmfuls of conditioner. My hands are slick from it, and he's so golden and wet that I can't help but reach out and caress his broad shoulders. He's so strong and powerful. It does all kinds of things to my insides to touch him, to know that someone as gorgeous as this man wants me and not anyone else.
To think that I could have something so fine as this man.
It's a heady thought.
He tips his head forward, groaning with pleasure as I move my fingers along his skin. This part of bathing, he likes. I add body wash to my hands and slick it all over his broad back, doing my best to slather every inch of him with the lightly-scented stuff. He's so big and brawny compared to my own form that it means that I have to rub up against him to get as much of him clean as I can.
Though I have to admit, I might be rubbing more than I need to. It just feels so good to press my breasts up against his hot skin and…imagine.
He turns and pulls me into his arms, and then his mouth is on mine once more. We’re kissing madly, our lips as intertwined as our tongues. The water sprays over us and I can taste suds as they flow down our faces and rinse out of our hair, but I don't care. I'm going to keep kissing him as long as he keeps kissing me. I love this.
I could kiss forever, I think. I knew it would be wonderful, but I had no idea it would feel like this.
Sam growls low in his throat again and then slides one hand from my butt to between my legs.
I gasp and my eyes fly open and I break the kiss despite my best intentions. When I meet his eyes, I see his gaze intent on mine. His hand is cupping my pussy, more blatant than anything ever, and I'm both shocked and turned on by the touch. I don't know how to react—do I let him know this is okay? That I like it even as much as I'm stunned by how intimate it is? Or do I push him away because I don't know how far I'm willing to go?
His gaze locked on mine, Sam rubs his fingers up and down my folds, and I gasp as heat floods through my body. He pulls his hand away and I bite back my protest. I'm further shocked as he lifts his hand to his mouth and licks his fingers, tasting my juices. Oh my god. That's the most…insane and obscene thing I've ever seen.
It might also be the most arousing.
I stare at him, my lips parted as I try to catch my breath. I don't know what to do, so I go on instinct. I reach down between us and caress his cock. Turnabout is fair play, after all.
Sam immediately snarls, his entire body jerking at my touch.
I panic and flinch backward. “Was that bad?”
He leans in and buries both of his hands in my hair, holding my face up to his. The look on his face is all-consuming, and as he stares at me with gold eyes laced with black, I wonder if I've pushed things too far. But he leans in and gives me another light, fluttering kiss on my mouth and then locks his arms around my hips, pulling me up against him.
I gasp in surprise, my hands going to his neck to hold on. The sudden movement makes my bad leg throb, but I don't care about it at all right now. “What are we doing?” I ask him.
As if responding to my question, Sam pushes the glass of the shower door aside and carries me out of the bathroom. I cling to him so he doesn't drop me. Our bodies are slippery and still have traces of soap, but I doubt he's thinking about bathing any longer. I know I'm finding that I could care less about properly rinsing my hair at the moment. I just want him to keep touching me. I'm acutely aware of the fact that he has my hips hitched against his waist, and that his cock brushes against my thighs when he moves, and that my pussy is spread wide open like this. I'm imagining all kinds of things, my mind as turned on as my body is.
I never thought a simple kiss could lead to this, but I'm quickly learning that nothing is simple with dragons.
He carries me across the room and over to the bed. With a fierce look, he gently sets me down atop it, laying me backward, his hands skimming all over my body.
I squirm, pulling at the wet hemline of my T-shirt. I feel exposed like this, but I don't want to stop, either.
Sam grabs my hands as I fuss with my shirt, stopping me. The look in his eyes is scorching hot and he releases my hands again, his focus going to my bare legs. As if fascinated, he skims his now-blunted claws along the sensitive skin on the inside of my thigh, and then gently presses my knees apart.
I could push him away. Fight this tender exploration of my body, because I'm about to be exposed in the most intense sort of way and I don't know if I'm ready for it. But is any virgin ever ready for sex? I have no idea. I've got no one to ask except my sister Claudia, and it's clear she's been hiding things from me.
It doesn't matter, though. I'm not sure I want to stop. When his hand slides higher and he leans down to rub his nose against my inner thigh, I moan and let my legs fall open.
He gives another growl, and I realize it's not anger or frustration, but pleasure that makes him growl like this. He doesn't have the words for what he's feeling, so he's vocalizing in a different way. I understand that. Oh god, do I ever. Because as his nose rubs higher up my thigh, I fist my hands in the blankets underneath me. I can feel my folds getting wetter and wetter with anticipation, until I'm practically trembling with the need to stay still and open for him as he moves closer to my center.
By the time I feel the heat of his breath against my skin there, I practically buck my hips in response. I've never wanted anything so bad.
He rubs his nose against the curls of my sex, and the low rumble of pleasure comes through his body once more. I suddenly remember that his body is entirely hairless, his groin as smooth as his chest, and I wonder if he's going to find my hair repulsive. I reach down to shield myself, but he bats my hand away as if it's nothing. As if I'm blocking him from a fascinating view.
Before I can say anything, he leans in and rubs his entire face against my pussy, like he wants to bathe in my scent. I gasp, beyond shocked, but I have to admit it also turns me on that he loves my scent that much. With another rumble in his chest, he rubs his face once more and then drags his tongue over my aching folds.
I give a startled gasp and arch up off the bed. Oh. There are no words for how that felt. It was so…so…startlingly intimate. I've never been touched like that, much less with someone's mouth. And as he nuzzles my pussy again a
nd then licks me once more, I whimper, closing my eyes and trying to relax into enjoying it, even if it feels like I'm going to jump out of my skin at any moment.
This is the gentle lover I dreamed about. He's still ferocity barely tethered, but this is my dragon. This is what I've wanted. I take in a shuddering breath as his tongue strokes over my folds, because every drag of his curiously rough tongue feels as if it's moving all over my body, not just my pussy. My nipples are hard and aching under the shirt, and I want him to touch them even as I want him to keep licking me.
Boy, do I want him to keep licking me. Why did I ever think we could just take things slowly? There's no “slow” involved in this. There is kissing Sam, and then there's submitting to Sam as he licks every inch of me. There's no in-between, no gray areas. If he wanted to take me in every way possible in the next moment, I'd lie back and do so gladly. I want him just as much as he wants me, maybe more.
“Sam,” I breathe as he laps at my pussy over and over, sending little shocks through my body. It's ticklish and arousing, and I'm squirming with every drag of his tongue. I feel like I should be embarrassed that his face is down there, but all I can think about is wanting him to go for my clit next. Do I show him where it is if he doesn't find it on his own? Or…
There's an animalistic grunt that rips me out of my blissful reverie.
I open my eyes and see Sam bent over me, his head lifted. His eyes are swirling black and he looks like he's distracted, his mouth still wet and gleaming from tasting me. He's not paying attention to me, and before I can ask what's bothering him, he snarls, jerking upright. I sit up on my elbows and between the space of one breath and the next, he shifts to dragon form.
Pictures crash off of the walls and furniture knocks over as his enormous draconic body takes over all the space in the penthouse. I gasp aloud as the enormous dragon's breast looms over me, the scales inches away from crushing me into the mattress. “Um, Sam?”
His head is held alert, focused on something in the distance. As I watch, he gazes at the wall of windows off to one side.
Then, I hear it. The trumpeting challenge of another dragon.
Someone else has followed us here. It's another dragon, come to try and lay his claim on me. He must have smelled my scent.
Sam throws his head back and sings out a furious response, so loud that the walls vibrate and my head feels like it's going to rattle right off of my shoulders. His big dragon body tenses for a moment, and then he flings himself through the wall of windows, sending glass everywhere.
10
RAST
A challenger has arrived to take my mate from me. Another fool thinks he can steal away what is mine.
I call out an angry challenge, flying out from my nest to meet the interloper. I am furious at his timing—to think that I had my face buried in the sweetness of my mate's cunt and this one comes to try and claim her mere moments before I am about to sink into her and give her my fires? I will destroy him twice as quickly for taking me away from my mate's touches.
The other responds with an angry blast, and I follow his scent, circling the building to meet him. He is an older male, judging by the scars and marks that cover his scales. One of his nostrils is torn from an old battle wound, his face in a permanent snarl. His scales are pale but his eyes are just as black as mine. He smells my Aahm and wants to take her for his own.
I will burn this entire world to the ground before I will let him place one claw on her. I rear back, flapping my wings hard so I can change the angle at which I dive at him. As I do, I see his claws are nearly as long as mine were. An honored warrior, then. My claws are destroyed, useless. If we were home, it would be a mark of shame, but we are here, in this strange, wretched place, and without them, I can touch my mate as freely as I like.
I will need to use my teeth and my cunning, then. It does not matter. One way or another, I will defeat him.
He bares his fangs at me and dives low, trying to move behind me so he can grab my neck. A classic move, one that mere young are taught in their first days of battle. I easily evade it, keeping my chest toward him and my head down so he cannot gouge at the thin line of vulnerable scales underneath my jaw. He lunges at me again, and once more, I twist away with ease. I will let him show his moves before I attack back. When he swoops and dives at me again, I notice he lunges at me with the same claws and his body twists, one wing not beating as hard as the other. It would not be noticeable to anyone except one with my skill, but with that showing, he is as good as dead. I dodge him once more and then whirl through the air, soaring high.
He chases me, as I suspected he would, and we move along the wind currents, going higher and higher. I flick my wings, changing the angle, and flip backward, only to tuck my wings in and drop through the sky, directly onto his back. He cannot move away fast enough, his one wing thicker with scar tissue. He tries to maneuver, but too late. I clasp my jaws around his neck and while he tries to buck me off, I increase pressure, searching for the right spot to crush his windpipe and destroy him.
The interloper struggles fiercely, but for all his long, glorious claws and experience, I am younger and stronger and far more clever. My mind is clearer than his thanks to my mate's presence, and I must destroy him quickly so I can get back to tasting her sweet cunt. The older one twists in my grip and then my teeth sink deep. I clamp down and shake my head fiercely, waiting for the satisfying snap.
It takes a few attempts, but then I feel his bones crack under my grasp, and his neck goes limp between my teeth. I continue the pressure, even as I extend my wings, gliding our bodies toward the ground. I will leave him here to rot as a warning to any others that think to take her from me before I can claim her. The scent of two dragons in this area will keep any but the strongest—or most insane—away from my nest.
I let his body down gently onto the earth, then tilt my head back and drink the blood filling my mouth as a sign of respect. My mate's scent flutters through the breeze, fear mixed with the warm honey of her cunt, and it fills me with a surge of longing. I must return to her side. Claim her like I should have days ago. Fill her body with my cock and then sink my fangs deep into her neck. Share my fires with her so we can share spirits.
Then no one will seek to claim her from me again.
I beat my wings, abandoning the corpse of my challenger, and fly back upwards, my mind on my mate and the way her cunt was drenched with desire for me. My lust for her is overriding the rage-smoke that threatens to cloud my mind, but I push it back, focusing on her scent. Her delicious, needy scent. It is a mystery to me as to why she is giving off mating scents when I have not challenged her, but she is human. Perhaps they do not challenge the same. I think of the way she wrapped her arms around me in the box with the spraying water. My Aahm is delicate and soft…perhaps that was the gentlest challenge ever and I did not realize it? Was that enough to arouse her? Or was it the mouth-on-mouth that made her want to mate?
Do humans have different signals than drakoni?
Just thinking of her sweet mouth has me wild with hunger. I rush back to the nest and see that it is not necessary to go to the roof and descend the human stairs with two legs. I have torn an enormous hole in the side of the building with my fury, and my mate waits there, clinging to the wall. Her hair whips about her face in the breeze, and I want to grasp her in my claws and hide her away from the world, to selfishly dominate her and hide her away so no one else can drink in her incredible scent.
I land inside the nest, tucking my wings close, and then return to my two-legged form. Her eyes go wide and she backs up a step as I approach her, still full of lust from our earlier encounter. I want to return to my place between her legs, to bury my mouth in her cunt once more. I realize dimly that I'm snarling, that my shoulders are hunched with anger, and that I have given in to the rage-fires once more. My thoughts are mere sparks flicking through the inferno in my mind, and the only thing that keeps me from sinking back into the wildfire of madness is the female be
fore me.
That is why I must claim her.
Now.
Before any others can stop me. Before another challenger arises. Before I lose myself to the rages entirely.
Her fear-scent stops me, though. I approach her, but I slow my steps. She watches me with wide eyes, wariness in her body. Her mating-scent is all but gone, and as I near her, I want to drop to my knees and lick her until I taste it again.
But then she reaches out for me, and I am distracted. She says something in her soft voice, her tone soothing. I pause, because she has never reached for me before. This is new. It takes everything I have to keep my hands at my sides, but I do not want her fear-scent growing stronger.
She murmurs again and reaches up to caress my cheek. Her fingers stroke over my skin, and then she indicates we should sit on the bed. I follow her lead when she takes my hand, and let her guide me there. Are we going back to mating? Does she want this, too? But I do not smell her mating-scent anymore, so it cannot be that. She keeps her hands on me, caressing my skin, and I close my eyes, losing myself to this sensation. If I cannot mount her, then I will take this. Her hands flutter over my shoulders and arms, brushing over my chest. She does not go lower, and this tells me she is not wanting to mate any longer. I have missed my chance for now. I will need her to challenge me again with her mouth and the body-rubbing in the water.
Tomorrow, then. I will let her fear abate and then I will claim her.
Aahm continues to speak to me, and after a moment I hear her pick something up. A breath later, something wet touches my face and I realize she is cleaning my skin with one of her strange skins she keeps folded and close by. I glance down and see that I am splattered with the blood of my enemy. Ah. Is this what frightens her? I remain still so she can cleanse my skin, and when she is satisfied, she puts the bit of material aside. I close my eyes, anticipating her touch. Something jerks on my hair, sending an annoying twinge up to my scalp. I hiss, startled, and her fear-scent immediately clouds the air. She holds up a comb and gestures at my hair, and I realize she is trying to groom me.