Drakon's Tear

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Drakon's Tear Page 11

by N. J. Walters


  One second she was on his lap, the next flat on her back on the bunk with him kneeling beside her. He moved so fast, it left her breathless. He plumped her breasts in his hands, leaned down, and lapped at one nipple, drawing the tip into a taut nub. Then he did the same with the other.

  Her skin tingled, and heat radiated from her breasts to the rest of her body. The sensation was almost so overwhelming it bordered on painful but never crossed the line. She never wanted him to stop.

  Abigail hadn’t thought her breasts particularly sensitive before. Obviously, all she’d lacked was the right lover.

  With the vibration of the train beneath her and Vasili above her, Abigail was alive in a way she never had been before. Her senses seemed sharper. She noticed the thick, dark lashes of his amazing eyes, the hard structure of his facial bones, and the softness of his hair against her skin. But mostly, she noticed the roughness of his tongue as he stroked it over her straining nipples.

  Each sensation seemed magnified a hundred times.

  He left her breasts and kissed a path down her stomach all the way to the button of her jeans. He paused and looked up at her as he slowly undid it. She blinked, not sure if she’d truly seen a whiff of smoke around his head or if it was nothing more than her imagination.

  When he continued to wait, Abigail reached down and slowly pulled the tab of the zipper. The metallic sound could be heard above the noise of the train.

  …

  Vasili had seen the Seven Wonders of the World. He’d traveled through every continent, seen the best that nature and mankind had to offer from every culture around the world for the past four thousand years. But nothing, nothing compared to the sight of Abigail sprawled across a narrow train bunk lowering the zipper of her jeans.

  He’d often questioned the existence of a deity, considering the state of the world, but he was rethinking his position on the matter. Surely this moment was proof there was some higher force in the universe.

  He wanted to roar and pound his chest. He wanted to empty his treasury and lay the most exquisite gems at her feet. He’d give her anything. Anything.

  He suddenly wished he had a drakon tear, even one to give her. But he had none.

  “Take off my boots.”

  He almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation. In his mind, he was offering her jewels and power. In reality, all she wanted was for him to remove her boots.

  He quickly undid the laces and pulled them off. She groaned and flexed her toes. They’d been on the run for hours, first hiding in the basement of the church and then cooped up in the back of a truck. He knew women, knew she had to be feeling less than her best. He sought to reassure her.

  “You are beautiful,” he told her as he slipped his hands into the opening she’d made in her jeans and slid them down her hips. She lifted her ass, making it easier for him.

  Her smile was self-conscious. “I know I’m a little ripe right about now.”

  Yes, he could smell the sweat from her skin, mingling with her deodorant, soap, and whatever lotion she’d used. But beneath all of that was the sweetest scent of all—her arousal.

  He nuzzled her mound through the thin fabric of her underwear. Like her bra, it was plain white cotton—functional not fashionable. He inhaled the combination of her musk and sweet flesh. “Delicious,” he assured her.

  She threaded her fingers through his hair, making him moan. He wanted to lie back on his giant-size bed at home and let her touch him for hours. He’d seen the way she’d looked at and stroked his tattoos. It was all too easy to imagine her running her fingers over every single one of them.

  His cock threatened to burst the front of his jeans. The damn thing was growing more and more impatient with each passing second. No way was he releasing it until the last second. Once he opened his jeans, he knew he wouldn’t last.

  He caught the band of her underwear between his teeth and tugged. Once again, she lifted, making it easier on him to undress her. He stroked his hands over her slim thighs and calves. When he finally had her naked, he sat back on his haunches and simply stared at the vision she made.

  She wasn’t exactly sprawling on the bunk. There simply wasn’t enough room. There was a rough blanket beneath her and nothing covering her. Her short hair was like a golden halo around her head. Her slender neck gave way to the gentle slope of her shoulders. Her arms were long and slim, but there was strength there as well. Her chest was full, the tips of her breasts rosy and ripe, rising and falling with each breath she took.

  Her waist dipped inward, and her hips flared out. His gaze continued downward to her mound and the thatch of pale hair that covered it. She moved her legs restlessly and bent one of her knees upward.

  He caught the limb and pushed it back down. “Don’t. Let me see you.”

  She lowered it and let him look his fill. His heart pumped hard in his chest, and his lungs expanded with each breath he took. He met her gaze. “You are mine.”

  He waited to see if she would object. He knew times had changed. Women were independent. And while he had no problem with that, even admired it, there was a part of him that was far more primitive.

  She belonged to him, and he belonged to her.

  “You are mine.” She gave his words back to him, and his dragon, which had been restless for centuries, practically purred. He wanted to be claimed by her. Wanted to belong to someone in this godforsaken world. Needed a reason other than the gaining of knowledge and wealth to occupy his days.

  Abigail would give him purpose, a reason to carry on. But mostly, he wanted her love.

  “I am,” he told her. He arched one brow and waited.

  “I am,” she repeated.

  He knew she truly didn’t understand what she was agreeing to, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t felt lonely until he’d met her. Hadn’t understood the depths of his emptiness until she was suddenly here, pouring into every crevice and canyon of his being.

  “Abigail.” Such a perfect name for such a perfect creature.

  He pushed one of her legs up so her knee moved toward her chest and then pushed it outward, opening her to him. A delicate pale-pink color spread across her cheeks, but she didn’t stop him, which was a good thing. At this point, he wasn’t sure he could.

  He got his first glimpse of her sex. The folds were swollen and slick with need. He moved closer and trailed his tongue up one side and down the other, skipping the most sensitive part at the apex.

  She groaned and flexed her hips, trying to get him to touch her where she wanted.

  Instead, he set about tormenting her, sensually torturing them both. He tasted and sucked and licked with abandon. Abigail gripped his hair in one hand and the edge of the bunk with the other. She slipped her leg out of his hold and draped it over his shoulder instead. He liked that, a lot.

  Using one of his fingers, he tested her core, sliding inward. She moaned and arched up, taking all of it. He added a second one, stretching her. She was so tight, so perfect. Her arousal coated his fingers, the intoxicating scent filling the air in the small compartment until there was nothing else but Abigail’s pleasure.

  “Vasili.” She could barely speak, was panting hard. He wanted more. He wanted to see her pleasure, taste it.

  He cupped one of her breasts and ran his thumb across the hard tip. He pushed two fingers deep into her core and, at the same time, found the little nub of nerves at the apex of her sex. When he pressed his tongue against it, she went wild, bucking against him.

  She was so close. He could feel it, taste it.

  He raised his head long enough to look at her. “Give it to me,” he demanded. Then he dove back in, licking and sucking the bud of her clit, sliding his fingers in and out of her wet heat.

  She arched back, her entire body going stiff. He felt the rush of her release, heard the thin cry of pleasure, and tasted the decadent sweetness of her orgasm. Her limbs began to tremble as he drew out her pleasure as long as possible.

  Finally, he released her a
nd licked his lips.

  She’d thrown one arm over her face and was panting hard. Vasili unzipped his pants while enjoying the rise and fall and swaying of her breasts. His cock sprang forward, ready and eager.

  Her arm slid away, and Abigail stared at him. Her eyes were unfocused, her lips still moist from their earlier kisses. A bead of sweat trickled from her temple and disappeared into her hair.

  When she licked her lips, he groaned. He rose but kept his head low, not wanting to smack it against the shelf above the bed. He put one knee on the bunk and kept his other foot on the floor.

  It was a tight fit, but he managed to maneuver himself so the head of his cock was positioned at her opening.

  In spite of his earlier worry of not being able to stop, he froze. “Abigail.” He could not go further without her agreement.

  She tilted her hips upward and looped her arms around his neck.

  Vasili breathed a sigh of relief. She was tight, squeezing his cock as he forged his way inward. It was pure agony and absolute heaven to work his way in one slow inch at a time.

  She made a sound that was a cross between pain and pleasure, and he froze.

  “Don’t stop,” she told him. “I want this. I want you.”

  At her admission, he lost all sense of control and slammed his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt. He saw stars as her wet heat clasped his cock, squeezing it. His arms shook.

  Abigail gasped and dug her fingers into his biceps, her short nails jabbing into his skin.

  “Did I hurt you?” he managed to ask. Thinking was difficult. Hell, breathing was difficult, but he’d never forgive himself if he had hurt her. He wanted Abigail to experience nothing but pleasure, never pain. He had a feeling her short life had been filled with more than enough hardship.

  She shook her head. “Full,” she gasped.

  He was finding it hard to talk, too. He’d had women over his long lifetime. Too many to count or remember. But nothing had ever come close to what he was feeling right now, right here with Abigail.

  In a cramped railcar cabin with not even a proper bed, Vasili finally understood what it meant to make love to a woman. He’d had sex, he’d cared for his partners, sometimes deeply, but this was different.

  Abigail made him weak.

  Some drakons might see that as a threat. He’d once heard a legend of a dragon who killed the woman he loved and then went mad, crying until his tears created the greatest diamond mine in the world. Finally, the dragon had turned to stone, becoming the very mountain itself. It was a human legend, but it could very well be real.

  Yes, she made him vulnerable, but Vasili also understood what a gift she was. She gave him purpose, meaning.

  His cock was throbbing, pulsing in time as the inner walls of her sex rippled around him. He groaned and began to move. There wasn’t much room, so his thrusts were quick and shallow. Not that it mattered. He’d barely started when his balls tightened. He gritted his teeth, but there was nothing he could do to stop his impending release. It shot up the length of his shaft and out the tip. He groaned and buried his face against her neck, covering her with his big body.

  Beneath him, she shivered and shook and cried out again. Her orgasm rippled around his cock, extending his own.

  “What? I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

  He hadn’t realized he was speaking until she questioned him.

  Probably just as well, since he was basically promising her anything and telling her he was never going to let her go. Yeah, best to wait a bit on that. He didn’t want to overwhelm her any more than he already had.

  He raised himself slightly and kissed her. “You are incredible.” He loved the way she blushed when he said things like that. He was reminded that she was so very young, especially in comparison to him. But for all that, she was still a woman. His woman.

  “You are okay?” he asked. His accent was thicker than usual, and he had a harder time finding words, even though he’d been speaking English for hundreds of years.

  She rubbed her nose against his in a playful gesture that warmed his heart. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had played with him, but it had to be at least two thousand years, maybe longer. Even when people didn’t know what he was, they recognized he was dangerous and kept a respectful and cautious distance.

  “I’m perfect.”

  “You certainly are,” he told her with all honesty.

  That made her laugh, and she patted his cheek. She glanced toward the window where the weak winter sun was shining in. “How long will it take us to get to Omsk?” she asked, even though he’d already told her.

  “Hours and hours and hours,” he assured her. His cock was already hard again. It had never actually gone down. He was a drakon, not a man. He didn’t need time in order to recover.

  When she smiled at him, he leaned down and kissed her, ready to show her just how creative he could get in such a small space.

  Chapter Eleven

  Abigail was pleasantly sore. The trip had passed rather quickly, but that was because when Vasili wasn’t making love to her, they’d slept. She curled up on the bunk, sometimes by herself, and other times Vasili held her on his lap.

  The cabin might be small, but he’d made the most of every square inch. She knew she was blushing but couldn’t stop. He’d taken her on the bunk again, but this time she’d sat on his lap and faced him. Another time, they’d barely made it back from a trip to the bathroom and he’d taken her against the door of their cabin.

  But she hadn’t had a lover in a long time, and all the vigorous sexual activity had left her feeling a little uncomfortable. When he realized she was in some discomfort, he left the cabin and returned with hot water and towels. She had no idea where he’d gotten them, but he had a way of acquiring whatever they needed.

  He washed her from head to toe, paying meticulous attention to her breasts and between her legs until she was almost ready to ignore how tired she was. But her stomach chose that moment to growl. Vasili, of course, heard. So he got her food before tucking her in to sleep.

  Now they were closing in on Omsk and both dressed again. She sensed he was no more ready to leave the quiet intimacy of their cabin than she was. Once they stepped outside, they had no idea if the Knights would have anyone waiting for them or not.

  “Have you dealt with the Knights before?” It was time to ask the practical questions, no matter how much she wanted to avoid them.

  “Yes.” He was sitting on the bunk across from her, the bulk of his body making it look more like a chair. He turned away from the window and studied her intently. He seemed distant, not at all like the lover she’d spent more than the past day with. She wished she were sitting beside him but knew it was probably better that she wasn’t.

  They needed to talk.

  She waited and waited, finally realizing he wasn’t going to say anything more about it. “And?” she prompted.

  He shrugged, and she tried not to notice the way his big shoulders moved beneath his sweater. “They tried to trap me and didn’t succeed.”

  Frustration ate at her, and she started to tap her fingers against her thigh. “So how many run-ins have you had with them? Two? Twenty?” If they were going to have any kind of relationship, he had to learn to share.

  Or maybe she was being presumptuous. Just because they’d had earth-moving sex, didn’t mean he wanted a relationship. He was stuck with her for the moment, but he didn’t owe her anything. Certainly not answers to her questions or information.

  “What does it matter?” he asked. “They did not succeed.”

  She gave a decisive nod. “You’re right, of course, it doesn’t matter.” She turned away from him and busied herself checking her bag and the secret pockets of her sweater, making sure everything was in place, even though she knew it was. Anything but having to look into his all-too-knowing eyes.

  She was rummaging around in her bag when he placed his hand over hers. “Abigail, what it is? What’s wron
g?”

  She wanted to yell and scream, but none of this was his fault. She was the one who’d found the bracelet and started this entire series of events.

  “Nothing.” She tried to smile but knew it fell flat. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter. None of it does.”

  His lips flattened into a rather intimidating frown. She pulled her hand away and continued to poke around in her bag, pretending to be busy.

  “Tell me about the kidnapping.”

  She stilled, the breath sucked out of her body. Carefully, she closed the bag and tucked it alongside her. “What does it matter?” she tossed his words back at him. “It’s over.”

  The cabin was suddenly smaller than it had been only seconds before. Vasili seemed larger, somehow, as if his presence had grown. The tension grew thicker, but she didn’t back down. She’d let fear and sex cloud her head, but it was time to start thinking for herself again.

  “Do you think I can catch a plane in Omsk and get out of the country?” It might be worth the risk. If she could slip by this Anton Bruno, she could get back to the States and go into hiding. As much as she hated to do it, she wasn’t stupid. No way did she want to end up kidnapped again. Once was one time too many.

  “You aren’t going anywhere.” Anger vibrated in every word.

  Her limbs trembled, but she held firm. “You helped me escape. For that, I’m more than grateful, but you have your life, and I have mine.” Every word she spoke was killing her, even if it was the truth.

  “You gave yourself to me,” he reminded her.

  No more hiding. She faced him head on and nodded, letting him see her anger. “I did. And I thought it meant more than sex on a train, but obviously I was mistaken. You want to keep your secrets, don’t want to share or extend our relationship beyond the physical, and that’s your right. But time is running out, and I need to figure out what I’m going to do next.”

  She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. It would be unfair to Vasili. He’d never promised her anything and had already done so much. She’d be in the clutches of the Knights if it weren’t for him. But it hurt her all the way to her soul. What she felt for Vasili was real and went beyond sex. That obviously wasn’t the case for him. And that wasn’t his fault.

 

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