In the Arms of the Dragon Princes

by Jessica Miller

  “What am I doing here?” I retort. “What is Nick Caras doing here? Do you realize you currently are harboring one of the biggest scam artists in the country within your gallery walls?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Amos,” Carly says. I want to beg her to come with me. To leave the gallery behind and let me start a new life for her.

  “Don’t listen to him, Carly,” Nick calls out from inside. “This man is a master manipulator. He’ll tell you everything you want to hear to get you to do what he wants.”

  Carly double takes Nick from over her shoulder then glances back to me. “Come in,” she demands. “Right now.” She takes a step back and pulls the door all the way open so that there is no mistaking her.

  “Has anyone called the police?” I ask.

  “Great question,” Nick answers.

  “As far as I know, nobody has called the police,” Carly adds.

  “Who was that spunky punk you were with?” Nick asks.

  “A friend of a friend,” I say. “No need to worry about him. Unless you think there’s something to worry about.”

  “Nothing to worry about, Amos, my pal,” Nick says.

  “You two know each other?” Carly asks.

  “You could say that,” I suggest. “You could also say that Nick, here, has tried to kill me before, not to mention steal my identity and all my assets.”

  “That’s putting it lightly,” he laughs.

  “I don’t know what the hell is going on here,” Carly says, “but I don’t think I want to be a part of it anymore.”

  The fact that Carly’s seems more distrustful of me than ever makes me want to go to drastic measures to get her back. “Disregard him, Carly,” I say, extending my hand out for her to take it. “Come with me right now and your wish is my command. We need to get as far away from him as soon as possible.”

  Carly’s eyes go vacant, her mouth agape. “Where is the painting?” I continue. “Where is Deviled Legs?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know,” Nick says, turning his back to us both as he closes the bathroom door behind him.

  “He has the painting, Amos,” she says. “That guy you were with a second ago came and picked it up from the gallery this morning. Nick gave me cash for it last night before we…”

  “Before you, what?” I ask. Please, don’t say it, Carly, I think.

  “Never mind,” she says. “I don’t know what to do. My instincts are telling me to run. I don’t know if I can trust you or him or anyone in this city, for that matter.”

  “Can you trust yourself?” I ask, staring into her shiny jade eyes.

  I hear Nick flush the toilet and run the sink inside the bathroom, but Carly doesn’t take her eyes off me.

  “Yes,” she says. “Of course I can trust myself.”

  “So what are you going to do?” I ask.

  Nick steps out of the bathroom and I break my gaze from Carly to make sure he’s not up to anything sketchy. His face is washed of all the blood and he’s shirtless, revealing his ripped, beefy physique. He’s got about thirty pounds on me, but I’ve been trained in martial arts. If he’s trying to fight me hand to hand, he’s got another thing coming.

  “Well, Carly?” I say.

  *****

  Nick

  Sometimes you’ve got to get a little creative to get things moving in your favor. For example, bashing my face against the van’s steering wheel to make me look helpless got me inside Carly’s studio again. Showing up at The Getty before they opened got me on camera for some poor British chump to show Amos. And a couple million bought off his muscle man, Roger.

  As for Carly, well, I originally thought that I could use her as bait to get to Amos, and I was right about that. But the crazy thing is that Amos actually has feelings for this woman, and that annoys the shit out of me for some reason. Annoys the shit out of me big time.

  “She already answered that question last night, pal,” I say.

  “Shut up,” Amos spits, and turns to Carly. “Oh, he’s a smooth talker. He’s got all the moves. But he doesn’t love art! Not like you and me!”

  “You have to make a choice, Carly. Right now. Him or me. This man is a fake. A phony. He’ll take your life down corners you couldn’t even imagine. If you choose me, I can make you the artist you want to be.”

  I step toward Carly, ready to punch Amos in his teeth. “The reason men like me exist is because monsters like you exist,” I say.

  “Be quiet, Nick,” Carly says, keeping her eyes shut as if to ignore Amos and me.

  “Excellent choice, Carly,” Amos says. “You can come with me right now. Forget the gallery.”

  “I need you to shut up, too, Amos,” she says. “And to hell with you for assuming that I’d already made a choice. If I had to trust anyone here, it would be myself. As far as I’m concerned, Nick, you are both monsters.”

  Ouch. I hate it when my own words come back to bite me.

  ***

  Amos

  “I don’t understand, Carly,” I say. “How could you choose a lowlife like this over me? All I desire is to have you, love you, make love to you. How could you give that to a scumbag like Nick Caran?

  Carly only shakes her head, keeping her face pointed at the floor. Now that Nick has stepped closer to the inner circle, I feel like my guard should be up. Don’t think I don’t see your fists clenched, Nick, I think.

  “What you want is a fantasy, Amos,” Carly says. I try to find the very spot on the floor where her eyes are pointed at, and upon searching I see a teardrop splash against the linoleum. “You both are on a downward path to destruction. You think I don’t want love, Amos?”

  “I didn’t say that,” I say. I now realize that all of my responses and reactions to this woman are counterintuitive to her nature. It is like I’m hardwired against her. Is it even possible for me to connect with her?

  “It doesn’t matter what you say, Amos,” she continues. “What matters is what you do. What you’ve done.”

  “You’re choosing a man who has tried to kill another man,” I laugh. “How much money did he pay you to sleep with him?”

  Before I know it Carly takes two strides toward me and plants her swinging palm against my face, leaving the echo of a loud Clap throughout the gallery.

  “Get out, Amos,” she says. “Get out right now.”

  “You’d better listen to her,” Nick says, cracking his knuckles. “We wouldn’t want this to get ugly. Now would we, Amos?”

  I have half a mind to pick up my cell and dial Roger; he’d love to storm over here and bash the place to bits.

  “So this is your choice, then?” I ask, the burn from her smack still searing across my cheek.

  Silence from both Nick and Carly. “I understand,” I say. “I hope you look back on this moment in regret for the rest of your life, Carly. You’ll mourn the death of this opportunity.”

  I take one last look at her—the only woman who can speak to my soul—and turn toward the gallery door. I unlock it, open the door, and let it swing shut behind me.

  I instantly hear the door latch shut again behind me. I don’t need to turn around; I’ve already detached from Carly forever.

  But I don’t have to detach from Lora Zombie.

  I walk to the Mercedes, start her up, and drive away from the gallery, but I only go a few blocks up the road before parking on a side street. I plan to wait a few minutes and sneak back to the gallery. If I’m correct in assuming what Carly and Nick are about to do, I should have approximately 15 minutes to get inside the van and find Deviled Legs.

  ***

  Carly

  When I turn around from the door, my face is soaked with tears. Nick rushes over to me and takes me into his arms.

  “Take everything that lunatic just said and throw it out the window of your mind,” he says, stroking my hair. “You can’t listen to people like that.”

  “I don’t know who to listen to anymore,” I say, my mouth sobbing against his th
in floral shirt. “You, him, Los Angeles. I just want to go home.”

  “Look at me,” Nick says, pressing away and trying to make his way into my eyes. “Tell me why you moved to this city. Tell me why you educated yourself in art.”

  “I moved here because I wanted to make something of myself,” I whimper. “I studied art because I didn’t think I was good enough to be an artist. I love art, but I just never thought I was good enough.”

  He takes my chin into his fingers and kisses me on my forehead. “You’re good enough,” he smiles. “Carly, I promise you that you’re good enough.”

  In the heat of Nick’s arms, I take a glance at the stool sitting in front of where Deviled Legs hung. With the curtains of the gallery closed, I feel safe enough to lead him over to it.

  “Where are we going?” he asks.

  “Just follow me,” I say, more as an order than a request.

  “I can do that,” he answers.

  I set my rear on the wooden stool, opening my legs so that I can hug him with my entire body. I wrap my arms and legs around him, pressing my face to his firm chest. I smell sweat and lavender on his skin. The light peering in through the curtains gives the room a radiant blue glow, more relaxed that the red bulb inside the storage room.

  This time taking Nick feels cleaner, as if I have truly acquired him. “You make me feel many things,” he says.

  “You sound silly when you open your mouth,” I say. “Do you know that you sound silly? Is that who you really are? Just a silly man?”

  Even the cadence of his laughter is seductive—he plays with my hair, coiling it in his fingers and massaging my shoulder. My breasts are pressed against his hips, and I feel the bulge of his erection growing against me. I loosen the button of his khakis and pull the zipper down to expose the soft gray cotton of his briefs. Digging my fingers into the elastic band, I hear Nick moaning softly. I’m not stupid, Nick, I think. I know that you’re trying to guide my head closer to your cock.

  I like the fact that he wants me, and I know that he’s currently indulging in the fact that I chose him. I slowly ride the elastic down his waist, unveiling his groin centimeters as a time. Sliding down from the wooden seat, I rotate Nick by his hips so that he can take my place. I want him sitting down for this. With my knees on the linoleum for, I finally release Nick’s hard dick and hold it before my face with both hands. I take a deep breath because once I insert him into my mouth I’m going to need to hold my oxygen. There has never been a time I’ve anticipated something into my throat like this.

  I hope he appreciates what I’m about to do.

  *****

  Nick

  I’m almost embarrassed at how hard I’m throbbing. She looks past my stubborn cock and into my eyes. All I can do is brush the bangs out of my face so that I can lock eye contact with her. If she’s about to suck me and stare at me at the same time, then consider all of my deepest desires fulfilled.

  With me now on the stool, I reach down and place a hand on two of the legs so that I can keep my balance. The balls of my feet are hard against the floor, and I’m hoping that when I feel the warmth of her saliva I’ll be able to keep my composure.

  Silly man, I hear her words play back in my head. I’ve never heard that one before, but I won’t lie—it’s right on the money. If only I could let go of this stool and feel her cheeks, her hair, or her lips as she puts me in her mouth.

  Oh dear mother of mercy, I think while she flicks her tongue across my tip. I can’t help it but my head jerks sideways from the electric pleasure. My eyes glance out the gallery window, and although I don’t think anyone can see in here, I do see something going on outside.

  I’m torn between Carly toying with my dick and the person who looks to be trying to steal my entire van full of art. That bastard, I think, realizing that it’s Amos at it again. He must have a lock pick because he’s standing at the side doors as casual as ever, though concealing the lock and device within his hands. I see him slide the door open and crawl inside the darkness of the van.

  Nothing is worth interrupting this, I think, feeling Carly’s lips pucker around the tip, wedging me between her top lip and teeth. She’s giving me pain and pleasure.

  Just the way I like it.

  Once her spit drips down my shaft, there is no way I can even focus on what is happening outside. I could care less about Amos or Lora Zombie or any other art in the world right now. Currently, I am in the middle of live art, a performance piece to go down in history.

  Carly opens her mouth wider so that she can fit more of me into her cheeks. She rotates me around her enlarged mouth, letting me feel her flat tongue and soft inner cheeks. Her mouth is like a cave that I never want to leave. I could reside here forever.

  I risk taking one hand off of the stool so that I can get a fistful of her fine hair. Can she see me without her glasses? Anytime I close my eyes she swats my leg, as if forbidding me to look away.

  Her eyes are wide like her mouth as she swirls her tongue around my cock. For some reason she starts to nod, but while she nods she inches her face closer to my groin.

  Now she’s taken the stool into her hands, using it and my weight to pull herself closer. Her mouth isn’t shrinking at all—it remains wide, but my cock is slowly disappearing into the void of her face. It’s no longer her cheeks I feel, but the tightness of her throat.

  Carly gurgles slightly, and her eyes water. Her blinks are seldom, controlled. My lips quiver as she swallows me deeper, until finally she withdraws me from her mouth. Her saliva bridges the gap between my dick and her face.

  ***

  Carly

  I don’t have the patience to let him tease me the way I’ve been teasing me. I could go all day until he comes in my mouth, but right now I need Nick inside of me. Using his khakis, I pull myself to my feet and stand before him. I loosen my dress so that my breasts are revealed again. This time I’m not trying to be as coy as the first time I showed him my body.

  “Stand,” I say, trying to free the stool for myself. I’m not going to let him take me in a sleeping bag, again. I don’t have a home to go to, but this gallery and this stool is as close to me as any home I’ve ever had.

  Nick obliges, getting to his feet. His khakis drop to the ground and he shakes them off, along with his floral and shoes. Now standing in the gallery naked, Nick looks like a sculpture of flesh. I can’t wait to feel him enter my pussy.

  With the stool empty, I decide to lean over it, tucking my arms close to my stomach. Bent over the stool, I spread my legs again so that I can be sturdy and ready for him. I admit it’s not the most comfortable, but there is something so hot about taking him like this.

  Nick hasn’t even touched me and already I feel my center dripping wet. The first thing I feel is his thighs against the back of mine. He grazes me gently and then places one hand on the small of my back, the other on my right ass cheek. I flick my hair back and cock my head back to see him. Then I remember the mirror in the corner of gallery and start to spin my ass along with his dick, hovering over my ass crack, until we’re both facing the mirror.

  Now I can watch him as he pounds me from behind.

  “I appreciate your vision,” he says. Gripping the flesh of my buttocks tighter, he guides his cock lower to the crevice of my flower.

  The moment he slides into me, we both make direct eye contact through the mirror. Outside I hear a door shut, but I pay no mind because my own squeal escapes my mouth, drowning out any other sounds.

  “That’s it, Carly,” Nick moans, pressing his full shaft into my body.

  “Yes, Nick,” I moan. “Do not stop.”

  ***

  Amos

  I put Deviled Legs into a black trash bag. It took me a few minutes longer than I would have liked to find the painting. Clever Nick hid it under the floorboard of the van. Now that I have Lora Zombie’s piece concealed, I slam the door shut and sprint as fast as I possibly can until I reach the Mercedes. I put the painting into the trunk and
then climb in the driver’s seat. Traffic is light so I do a U-turn right in the middle of the street.

  I push the gas to the floor and squeal down the road. As I pass the gallery window I only catch a glimpse, but beyond the blue curtains it looks like there is some type of sculpture inside. Then I realize it’s the one thought I don’t want to imagine.

  Placing my last clove cigarette between my lips, I lower the window and blaze through a red light. I light clove and inhale its smoke so deeply that my lungs are filled with a burning sensation.

  This is living, I think.

  THE END

  Bonus Story 30/40

  Bride of a Werewolf Prince

  Gina stared into the mirror while her mother braided her long dark hair. The room was filled with the chatter of bridesmaids and female relatives all getting dressed and made up, or assisting with the process. Small pearls and baby’s breath were delicately woven into her hair while her mother prattled on about how excited she was to see her baby girl finally getting married and settling down.

  Gina rolled her eyes at the ‘finally’ part. She wasn’t even thirty yet and her family had been ready to write her off as a spinster until she had started dating Rafe. Although their first year together had been rocky, after she had come to accept that her boyfriend was a werewolf things had settled between them and their relationship blossomed.

  It was no easy task dating a werewolf prince, or Beta, as the title was referred to in the pack. Rafe had a lot of responsibilities to tend to, including diplomacy with other packs as well as other species. And yet, despite all of them, he had fallen head over heels for the quiet librarian.

  It had taken quite a bit of adjustment on Gina’s part, especially once she learned that most of the supernatural and fairy tale creatures she read about were real, but Rafe had guided her through this new world with gentle patience. In fact, he still found great amusement whenever Gina would learn something new about their secret world and stare at him with amazement.