by Jory Strong
The shock was followed by dismay when the ball dropped neatly onto the black eight and the croupier raked in the solid gold coins.
It didn’t get better from there. She won a few times, but Kirill casually tossed the recouped coins back out onto the table until there was nothing left.
If he hadn’t been the one placing the bets—over her protests to be more conservative—it would have made her physically sick to lose so much money. Even so, she couldn’t let it pass without saying something. She turned in his arms and said, “I’m sorry. I’m not very good at this.”
His smile warmed her all the way down to her toes. The kiss that followed had her melting against him.
“I prefer to be unlucky at games of chance, but lucky at love,” he said, the purr in his voice tightening her nipples to hard points and sending liquid heat to her cunt lips.
Her channel spasmed. The need to be alone with him spiked through her. “Let’s eat dinner.”
His eyes darkened and flared with lust. “Let’s.”
He led her back to their table. The waiter arrived with their food almost as soon as they’d settled into their seats.
“I’m curious,” she said a short time later, after they’d finished their meal and their plates had been taken away. “This place has been raided at least five times that I can remember. How do you get away with the gambling? I can’t believe every cop, federal agent and judge involved is a dragon.”
“Avoiding detection and prosecution is Pierce’s area of expertise.” Kirill’s mouth curved up in a teasing smile. “He’s our token Faerie, and co-owner of the club.”
Jazzlyn laughed. “I assume you mean faerie as in fey and not gay.”
Kirill’s smile deepened. “The fey are often flexible in their sexuality, but in his case, I’m told he is quite happily mated to a female.”
Their waiter returned with small flutes containing something called—not surprisingly—Dragon’s Flame.
Kirill picked up his glass, his gaze traveling over her possessively. “To our future happiness.”
Slick arousal wet her panties. His nostrils flared and the sudden image of him reaching under the table in intimate exploration made her clamp her legs together. She touched her glass to his then drank.
It was like swallowing fire.
When she could finally focus on her surroundings again, she thought spontaneous combustion had probably been a close call in her case. Every nerve ending tingled in hyperawareness. The feel of clothing against her skin was almost unbearable.
“Potent stuff,” she said, setting the glass down next to his empty one. “You can drink the rest of mine.”
“I have a better idea.” He signaled their waiter and a moment later a small plate of fruit was placed on the table. Mango, she thought as Kirill poured the Dragon’s Flame over it.
If she’d had any doubt as to just how flammable the drink was, it was extinguished when Kirill leaned forward, blowing on the dessert and setting it on fire.
Dragons, she thought yet again, enjoying the trick though she couldn’t figure out how he’d done it.
The flames licked and danced over the fruit, burning hot and fast before going out. Lust darkened Kirill’s eyes as he picked up a slice of mango and carried it to her mouth, starting a new fire, this one inside her.
She took the offered fruit, his fingers remaining against her lips, inviting her to lick them clean. Flushed need heightened the color in her cheeks. At the beginning of the day, she wouldn’t have been able to imagine herself doing something so wanton in public, but there was no way to resist the temptation to explore and wield her feminine power.
It would have been easy to blame her behavior on the Dragon’s Flame, but Jazzlyn didn’t. With Kirill she felt bold, confident, two words that had never applied to her except when it came to her jewelry making.
She slowly licked the fruit juice and residual drink from his fingers, her eyes never leaving his as she did it.
He offered another piece and she took it, sucking it into her mouth, imagining it was his cock and knowing by the expression on his face that he was imagining the same thing.
With each slice of mango she expanded on her sensual torment. Licking, sucking, caressing the tips of his fingers until he was panting slightly, his face taut.
“Let’s go,” he said, abruptly rising to his feet.
Instead of leaving the club, he led her toward a guarded alcove. Through the arched doorway she saw a jewel-encrusted chalice positioned on a velvet-lined pedestal like something belonging in a museum.
A blond man joined them as they stepped into the alcove, his shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal a gold and green dragon tattooed on his arm. Unlike the other men she’d encountered, he didn’t devour her with his eyes. Instead the corners of them crinkled in amusement as he directed his attention to Kirill. “I have to say, this is a surprise though I’d heard rumors of your hasty departure from Xanthus’ lair. You wish to offer the cup to your beautiful companion?”
Jazzlyn blushed at the compliment. Kirill’s growl ended with a yes.
The blond casually lifted the chalice from its pedestal and poured the flute of Dragon’s Flame he’d arrived with into it before passing the cup to Kirill.
“This is freely given, Hakon?” Kirill asked.
“Yes.”
Kirill drank from the cup then turned toward Jazzlyn. She had time to notice it was engraved with pictures, small images conveying a dragon story, before the rim was held to her mouth, and Kirill urged her to drink.
She guessed it was a club ritual. And because she sensed it was important to him, she obeyed, swallowing a fire that burned like lust and left her breathless, aching for Kirill to come inside her and quench the flames.
He placed the cup back on the pedestal. “My thanks,” he said to Hakon.
“You return home now?”
“No.” The single word held a wealth of frustration. “Jazzlyn’s cousin is in trouble. Until she can be found and delivered from danger, we must remain here.”
“She’s missing?”
“Yes.”
“Have you visited Inner Magick? It’s possible Aislinn might be able to help you find her.”
Jazzlyn spoke up. “We’re waiting for a call from her now. She’s done what she can using her gift. There’s a chance her husband can come up with a lead. It seems likely my cousin is on a boat, though we don’t know its name yet.”
Hakon frowned. “Then your cousin could be anywhere, including in international waters.” He glanced at Kirill. “If you’d care to accept my hospitality for the night, I offer it. I keep a speedboat at the ready. Should the call arrive and you need to act on it, any of my men are capable of taking you out on the water if I’m not home.”
Jazzlyn’s hand curled around Kirill’s arm. “I’d like to accept,” she said, touched by Hakon’s offer.
Kirill’s hand covered hers. “Then we will. I believe I promised that after dinner you could choose where we go.”
Hakon took a card from his pocket and scribbled directions on it. He passed it to Kirill, saying, “I’ll call ahead and say you’re expected. Arrive whenever it suits you.”
They thanked Hakon and left the club, stepping out into a warm, star-filled night.
The surf pounded only a short distance away. The beach was a shrouded, romantic stretch of sand and privacy.
A shiver of anticipation slid through Jazzlyn, fantasy and opportunity merging. If only she was courageous enough to shake off a lifetime of shyness and go for it. She’d never made love under the stars.
Her cunt lips were swollen and flushed, urging her with each step she took to be bold and ask for what she wanted. At the back of her car, she halted, intensely aware of the way her clit pressed against her panties, a tiny imitation of the hard ridge at the front of Kirill’s pants.
She put her palm on his chest, toying with his nipple through his shirt. “Before going to Hakon’s, I’d like to walk on the beach.”
“Just walk?” He enfolded her in his arms, nuzzled her neck, sucking and biting, his hand caressing her breast.
“Maybe more,” she whispered.
He released her long enough for her to retrieve a blanket from the trunk of her car, then hand in hand they walked the distance to the beach, pausing to remove their shoes before stepping onto the sand.
They weren’t the only couple to have been drawn to it, or to become lost in the private world of lovers. Two men embraced in the surf, the water swirling around them. A man and woman rolled and wrestled on the sand, her shirt parted and breasts free. The sight of them, combined with the sensuous in-and-out rhythm of the waves made Jazzlyn want to explore her newfound sexual confidence, to wield her feminine power in order to give Kirill pleasure.
She stopped and spread the blanket. When Kirill joined her on it, she pushed him to his back and made a show of removing her panties before she straddled him, her knees on either side of his hips, her skirt hiding her mound from him though he knew she was bare for him, ready for him.
“The moonlight agrees with you,” he murmured, voice husky, eyes challenging her to do her worst now that she had him underneath her.
“You agree with me.” She leaned down and touched her lips to his. “Very much. Now we’re going to pretend I’m the dragon and you’re my treasure.”
His smile was an invitation to sin. He lay still as she slowly unbuttoned his shirt, parting it as she went, revealing him inch by inch. She paused to kiss the dragon tattoo, to trace its outline with her tongue.
Kirill growled in response and tangled his fingers in her hair. In the light cast by the moon, it was easy for her to imagine silvery scales and a dragon lover.
The tension in his body grew as she kissed downward toward the front of his pants. He vibrated with it, his fingers fisting and unfisting in her hair as though he were in a battle for his survival.
His hips jerked upward when her tongue darted into his navel. He moaned when she undid the top snap of his jeans, at the same time parting his zipper just enough to free the first inch of him.
“Don’t,” he said, but the lift of his hips made the word a lie, as did the glistening drops of arousal on his cock head.
She straightened so she could watch his expression as she used her forefinger to spread the moisture onto his shaft. His eyes blazed with lust. His hands now clutched the blanket, the muscles on his arms defined in stark relief.
There were faint ridges circling underneath the head of his cock. As she lingered, exploring them with her fingertips, they seemed to grow more pronounced.
The zipper gave and her channel clenched at the sight of him fully revealed. She couldn’t resist the urge to lean forward, to press her lips to him, kissing, lightly sucking where the ridges were darkening in color.
“Don’t,” he said again, shuddering as she caressed him with her tongue, his breathing growing more erratic and his tension mounting.
His skin was hot. His scent masculine. His taste reminded her of Dragon’s Flame and filled her with a fiery lust that would only be quenched by orgasm.
She took him in her mouth then, eyes closing so she could savor him as she sucked, her tongue going repeatedly to the subtle ridges. Striking. Licking. Tormenting.
He moaned and panted. He fought to escape her even as he continued to thrust and writhe in an agony of pleasure beneath her—until finally he grasped her arms and forced her mouth away from his cock.
When she was once again on her knees above him, his hand jerked her skirt upward. “Mount me,” he said, his voice raw with need.
She wouldn’t have thought it possible for him to get larger, but as his eyes devoured her exposed cunt, his penis thickened, lengthened, the moonlight playing over it so the ridges beneath its head looked raised and firm.
He took himself in hand then, holding his cock so she could impale herself on it. “Take what you’ve claimed belongs to you,” he growled, reminding her of her teasing comment, that she was the dragon and he was the treasure.
It was easy to obey him. She wanted nothing more than to feel him inside her.
As slowly as she’d unbuttoned his shirt, she moved into position above him, knowing by his expression that he could see her parted glistening folds, that he liked watching as she took him an inch at a time, as though he were the captured virgin and she was the dragon.
When he was fully seated, she paused, clenched on him. Her channel was like a hungry mouth, sucking, rippling on the hot, hard length of him.
His hips rose. His eyes closed. “Jazzlyn,” he said on a moan, his breath catching, begging with the sound of his need for her to fuck herself on him.
His desperation filled her with savage satisfaction and feminine delight. She couldn’t resist his plea. Didn’t want to deny either of them the pleasure of release.
She slid up and down on his hard cock. Slowly at first. Until his hands gripped her hips and his body thrashed beneath hers.
The angle of penetration rubbed her clit against him. Rendered her incapable of fighting the sharp edge of an orgasm that turned her sheath into a vise and caused him to shout as he emptied himself into her.
With a sigh she collapsed on top of him, the heat from his muscle-hard body soaking through her clothing, making her smile then laugh softly. “It may be night but at the moment I feel like a dragon sunning itself on a very large, very firm rock.”
Kirill made a sound that was more rumbling purr than chuckle. He smoothed his hands over her back, petting her in a way that kept her stretched out on top of him, content to linger on the beach.
Chapter Eight
In the darkness of the car, Jazzlyn shook her head as she stopped in front of wrought iron gates with elaborate welded dragons taking up much of their centers. A voice coming from a hidden speaker asked her to identify herself. Kirill answered for both of them and the gates swung open to allow her to proceed.
She expected a house. Instead she found a jungle of lush plants and an area to park.
“This is eccentric,” she said, getting out of the car to the raucous call of tropical birds.
“Dragons like their privacy.”
“The better to guard their treasure,” she joked.
“True,” Kirill said, pleased at how comfortable she was becoming with the idea of dragons.
He captured her hand and led her along a walkway canopied by plants that blocked much of the moonlight. Somewhere ahead of them an alligator bellowed, its call answered by another.
Jazzlyn pressed closer. “I can see how this layout would discourage thieves. Is your home like this?”
“No. I favor open space and a clear path to anyone who dares trespass.”
She laughed at his answer. “Where do you live?”
He carried her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to it. “As soon as your cousin is safely recovered, I intend to take you there. Until then, it will remain a secret.”
Her response was another laugh. It left him pleased with his efforts in preparing his mate for what lay ahead. She didn’t seem alarmed by the prospect of going to his home without knowing anything more about it.
They walked for several minutes before seeing Hakon’s house. At his side, Jazzlyn’s breath caught at the sight of glass stained with a variety of dragons in flight.
“You guys don’t do anything in half measures, do you?” she said.
He chuckled. “The young dragons who’ve settled here are the most ostentatious about marking their territory.”
Jazzlyn snorted at the comment, making him smile at having had the opportunity to impart more knowledge.
He led her past low stucco walls set above a sloping, shallow channel serving as a moat, its banks lined with alligators. “I hope he feeds them regularly,” Jazzlyn said as the path they were on became a suspended bridge.
A door opened and Hakon stood backlit, shimmering for an instant in the gold and green of his dragon colors, his grin all too knowing. “Welcome to my home. I hadn’t
expected to arrive before you, but I’m glad I did. I’ll show you to your suite as I imagine you’ll want to retire early.”
Kirill didn’t deny Hakon’s assertion. He’d endured having Jazzlyn in the presence of other males at Drake’s Lair because it’d been necessary, but it would be a battle to remain civilized if she became friendly with Hakon in the cozy, intimate setting of a private residence.
“You have a beautiful home,” Jazzlyn said as Hakon led them past high-ceilinged rooms done in bright, tropical colors and furnished with sofas and chairs crafted of light-colored wood.