by Meg Ripley
“Busy?”
“Not at all. I was just doing a bit of reading.”
“On what?”
“You. I wanted to be prepared in case you had any further questions.”
“I’m sure I’ll have a lot of questions for you.” She stepped forward and gently took the book from his fingers, scanning over the open page. Her eyes fell on the illustration of Medusa—a monstrous face with a crown of hissing snakes. “But I don’t know if I feel like talking about it right now.”
His hand fell over the page, obscuring the image. “I know how it feels. Looking for yourself and finding a monster. But April, you’re not a monster.”
She let him take the book from her and his arms closed around her. She melted against him, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, blocking everything else from her senses. She reacted that way each time he held her, utterly devoting herself to the experience of the embrace, doing her best to brand every second to her memory, as though it could all be taken from her in an instant. It nearly was stolen from her. It almost ended before they really even could begin.
“Oh, Mads,” she cried, burying her face in his chest. He stiffened slightly and she could feel the tension in his arms and along his ramrod straight spine and suddenly his silk shirt felt as rough against her cheek as a burlap bag. She tore at the garment mindlessly, tugging the buttons open until she finally felt his skin. She sought out the heat of his body with her mouth, inhaling him, tasting him, still needing more of him. The mark on her thigh throbbed as her lips moved over the expanse of his chest.
“April—”
“I need you. I need...I need to know that you’re here. I need to feel the fire that burns inside of you.” She kissed him with each word, tears streaming down her cheeks, her mouth ravenous, moving up his throat, along his jawline, back down his shoulder. She felt like she was in a freefall until the moment he grasped her arms, his fingers like bands of iron hot from the forge.
“April!” Her name was a joyous roar, a sound that felt like long nails scratching down her back. Her spine arched and she tingled with goose bumps. Her mouth became bolder, her hands exploring every inch of him she could reach. She scratched and teased with her nails until she felt a shiver work down his spine.
His hands were busy, too, removing the silk pajamas she wore after her shower. They fell from her without a sound, pooling at her feet to reveal her sensitive body to his questing fingers. His left hand went directly to her breast, cupping her with a possessive, yet gentle, touch. His right hand moved to her waist, pulling her closer against his erection, then moved over the sensitive skin at the small of her back. He found every sensitive spot, every place that made her knees quiver.
April had the taste of his skin in her mouth, but it wasn’t enough. Not even close to enough. She hooked her fingers over his pants and tugged them down, not even allowing him to step free of their confines before closing her mouth around his cock. She closed her eyes and nearly whimpered with the delight of him—of the texture of his skin, the salty taste, the heat, the rhythm of his vein against her tongue. She inhaled deeply to take in the scent of his skin as well, and it mingled and created the true, living scent of him.
His fingers threaded through her hair, his palm coming to rest on the back of her head. He didn’t try to guide her, simply held her, as if to anchor himself. She eagerly took his full length, drawing the fat tip to the back of her throat and holding him there, using her tongue and throat muscles to draw long moans from him. They were so deep and low they were almost growls, punctuated only occasionally by words. Yes. Oh yes. Oh April.
Her pussy clenched with each vibration of sound, reminding her incessantly that she still needed him. That as good as he felt in her mouth, as good as he tasted and smelled and sounded, it still wasn’t even close to enough. Her clit throbbed, and the mark in her thigh was now almost screaming for relief from an itch that went deeper than any human fingers could scratch.
“God, I can feel you,” he said on a sharp intake of breath, and she knew he didn’t mean her mouth or her hands. He meant he could feel the fire roaring through her. A fire that couldn’t be quenched or drowned. A fire that could only be stopped with matching flames.
Mads jerked her from him and lifted her like she weighed no more than a doll, carrying her the short distance to his desk. She spread out over the wide, smooth mahogany expanse and drew him as close as she could.
“I want to see.”
“What do you want to see, mein Schatz?” He leaned in close, his mouth moving over hers.
“My dragon.”
She felt his smile and then his broad wings filled her vision. They were still wounded from battle, but not truly damaged, and they were still majestic. She felt his shaft against her thigh, moving up her leg, and she unconsciously moved toward him, rocking closer. She knew she could never take his full length, but her pussy was so wet, quivering and ready that she didn’t stop the tip from sliding between her lips.
“My dragon,” she said between gritted teeth, thrusting her hips forward and impaling herself.
First, there was the sensation of stretching, a low burn that was only chased away by the other, immediate sense of relief. She bent her knees, bracing the bottom of her feet against the desk and thrust forward, claiming even more of him between her legs. It was too much but just enough, just right, and it felt so good, like she could never survive it and she could never get enough of it. Her body was made for his, and soon there was no twinge of pain, nothing to match the explosive pleasure she felt with every long, slow rock of her hips.
He was hers. Nothing, not even death, could claim him. He was hers to claim, take, and have. She didn’t know how to understand her new identity, what it meant to her and how it might change her, but she did understand this. The balance they found between them, the sense of the completion of one whole from two halves.
April’s body was fully unleashed, unlocked, unhindered. Wave after wave of pleasure rolled through her, finite and dazzling. She knew there was something more, though. A final release that she couldn’t quite conceptualize but she still raced towards. Her blood boiled and her skin pulled tight and she thought she might be on fire. She might have created actual sparks between their bodies and was being consumed by a glorious, merry haze. Eyes unseeing, she reached for him, fingers running over scales and talons and then his hands closed around hers.
Her eyes focused just as Mads thrust into her raw body, his velvety smooth shaft filling her to the hilt. His eyes were green when they met hers—no sign of the dragon at all. The moment between the gorgon and her dragon gave way to the touching of man and woman. She saw herself reflected in his eyes—beyond that, she saw a reverence she’d never experienced before. Wrapping herself around him, she pulled even closer, as close as she could, and buried her face in his neck as the final lightning bolt reverberated through her. She clenched down on him, holding him deep while she rode out the final crests of pleasure.
“Oh April…oh my sweet.” She felt him tense and tremble, felt the moment of his release like another shockwave through her. She shivered and jerked her hips, every incidental moment of contact an overload to her system.
****
Mads had been in possession of Dracheschloss for centuries, but it had been decades since he spent so much time there. Once the world rushed into modernity, with all its attendant comforts, Mads built himself a new empire of glass and steel, and a new throne, high on top of the world. And though he still could see the people scurrying like ants, he lived among them, enclosed by their laws and boundaries, surrounded by their humanity. He’d been content.
But with April secure in his arms, he felt free.
The castle was hers now. Perhaps it had always been. Perhaps he had conquered it not for glory, but so he could provide his mate with her own sanctuary. Perhaps she herself had claimed it from the moment the first stone was laid. She wore the face of a young woman, but Mads now believed her life began more than twen
ty-six years ago.
He gazed down at her, making a loving note of her slightly crooked nose, the little quirk of her lips, the dimple in her chin, the shape of her eyebrows, the flush of pink across her cheeks. She was an angel now, peaceful and sweet; nothing like the woman he’d seen in his library. The woman who had staked her claim on him and branded him for life. She had been living fire, writhing and welcoming. The heat from her body had been so overwhelming that for the first time, he hadn’t felt the fire burning him from the inside out.
She’d been so hot he now had a ring around the base of his cock—a slightly red circle to match the mark on her thigh.
He dropped his mouth to her cheek, closing his eyes and pausing to inhale the scent of her skin and her sleep. She was having pleasant dreams and not the nightmares he feared she would. Shifting against her, he wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her even closer, fighting the urge to shed his human appearance so he could enclose her with his wings. More and more, she brought out the dragon.
My dragon. Yes, her dragon, as this was now her castle. Even his life now belonged to her as she was the only reason he still existed. His memories of the fight were sketchy, and he didn’t know exactly how Savannah had bested him. He didn’t remember hitting the ground. He remembered only the cold—the frigid, bitter cold. A cold he thought he could still feel in the core of his bones. Just before the cold had frozen him forever, there was a single, glowing spark. And from that spark, life was allowed to return.
She moaned softly and shifted back, pushing her ass against his member. His body responded immediately, the mark throbbing to life. Within seconds, he was painfully hard and ready to take her again. With a low groan, he rolled onto his back, trying to get himself back under control, listening for the sounds of her waking. She continued sleeping, but no longer peacefully. Not quite. She moved until she found the heat of his body again, rolling over to lay across his chest, her head coming to rest on his shoulder.
“I think I’m dreaming about you,” she mumbled.
“Are you? Is it a good dream?”
“Mmmm.” She slid her hand down his body and grasped his dick. “I was dreaming about boats and suddenly—” She squeezed him, stroking from the top down. “Suddenly I see this.”
“Do you like boats?”
Her chuckle was throaty and sleepy. “Not as much as I like this.”
“Oh...oh.” Her fingers slid over the mark and the rest of the blood in his body rushed to his cock. Electricity spiraled from his balls to his throat and everything in between clenched with the anticipation of more. The contact had been so brief, but the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
“What was that?” She lifted her head, blinking the sleep from her eyes.
“It was…” He exhaled, cleared his throat and tried again. “It was something new.”
“What?”
He reached over and turned on the bedside lamp, casting enough light to show the delineation on his skin. She gasped, reaching out to touch him but pulling away at the last second. “What is that? Is it a burn?”
“A type of burn.”
“Does it hurt?”
“No more than the one on your thigh.”
“On my thigh?” Her eyes widened. “I did that to you?”
“Yes.” His hand went to her thigh. “Which is only fair.”
“Does it feel like mine feels?” She leaned forward, the tip of her tongue emerging to slide along the mark. His fingers immediately clenched into tight fists and for a moment he forgot how to breathe, or maybe he simply lost the ability due to the constriction around his chest. The heat of her tongue disappeared and he exhaled in a long, slow sigh, already craving more.
“I think that’s a yes,” she murmured.
He pulled on her shoulder, guiding her back up his body so he could claim her mouth. She threw her leg over his, straddling his hips, his cock sliding between her slick, swollen folds. She rocked her hips, grinding against him as their tongues danced. Her nipples slid over his chest, hardening and drawing his attention.
“Honey, please,” he moaned against her mouth. Her skin was so soft, so welcoming and pliant that it only increased his need for her. He could have reached between them and angled his cock to drive into her, but that thought didn’t occur to him. He felt bound, tied in place by invisible ropes, completely at her mercy, willing to bend to her will in all things.
April broke the kiss and sat up, settling more firmly on his member. Her blonde silky hair was a tousled halo, her eyes still heavy with sleep, her lips full and bruised from the force of his kiss. She reached behind her to grip his shaft and reposition herself, rising to come down on his aching flesh. Inch by inch, she consumed him until she was fully seated, igniting the mark into a lit fuse.
She began to rock. Slowly at first, almost hesitantly, but it wasn’t a pace she could sustain. Not when he jerked his hips upward, begging her silently to move faster, harder; to ride him until they were both soaring. His eyes were half-lidded but marked every detail—the golden beauty of her face, the sway of her breasts, the rapid beating of her pulse. He’d tried to get her on top before, but this was the first time she’d been interested in the position, and he really hoped it wouldn’t be the last.
Especially since it freed his hands to explore every inch of her while she commanded the rhythm. He massaged her full breasts, weighing them against his palms, squeezing and stroking and god did he love the way they felt in his hands. He loved the solid feel of her against him, loved the shape and curves of her body as she rose above him, loved her rapid gasps and shouts that seemed to take her by surprise. Loved the way she tensed and her eyes widened when he found her clit, pressing his thumb over the sensitive tip and massaging with slow, careful intent.
“Oh...oh god...oh...oh my god…” Her body trembled around him, like the earth before a great quake. He could feel it building within her--he could hear it in her voice and sense it in the way she jerked, the way her rhythm altered, punctuated with short, rapid strokes. His balls pulled tight, the base of his spine tingling with warning that soon he would not be able to hold himself back. “Oh Mads.”
April slammed down one final time, her channel clenching and quivering around him as the pleasure swept through her. He rose to meet her, muscles pulling taut as he spent himself. She collapsed forward, falling into the safety of his arms, and they slowly came back to the earth together.
“I love you, mein Schatz.”
“I love you, my dragon.”
Sleep was already pulling her back, and this time he felt himself following her into the darkness. He closed his eyes and unconsciously tightened his hold on her, slipping away into dreams infused by his love’s scent, her warmth, and the peace she brought him.
THE END
Dragon’s Complete Desire
It was my father's dying wish that I marry Greyson, but now that the man who raised me has passed away, the very thought of going through with this arrangement breaks my heart into a thousand pieces.
Lately, I find myself dreaming of a vibrant world inhabited by a beautiful, powerful dragon. I told Mother of my dreams and saw something in her eyes that resembled recognition, which piqued my curiosity and drove me to dig through Father's things.
It was there that I quickly discovered that what at first seemed like mere dreams were not dreams at all, but that this world and this beautiful dragon are real...
PART ONE: DRAGON’S BURNING DESIRE
The ground beneath her was damp and cold, and Vivian shifted against it uncomfortably before opening her eyes. Above her, stars so vivid they were like shattered glass sparkled against a deep, velvety sky. Her body felt heavy, pulled down toward the ground as if she didn't have control over it yet, as if she was still dreaming.
"Vivian?" a familiar voice called from somewhere in the area around her.
The ability to move seemed to flow back through her body along with the words and she pulled herself up into a sitting position to
look for the source of the voice. A strange, foggy cool rushed against her back as she sat up and she felt a shiver ripple across her skin. In the distance, she could see a figure step into the milky silver moonlight that pooled across the ground.
"Aurora?" she asked, meaning to yell but realizing her voice had only come out as a soft, powdery sound.
The figure started jogging toward her and when it came within a few yards she could see Aurora's face glow in the moonlight, the pale beams creating a shimmer in the coppery hair tumbling down her shoulders that made her look almost ethereal in the light. She wore a long dark dress that concealed her feet, making her seem to glide as she came closer. In her confusion, Vivian struggled with grasping what was happening and began to fear that Aurora had, in fact, died and that somehow, she was visiting the plane where her best friend now existed.
Vivian climbed to her feet and took a cautious step toward Aurora. A moment later Aurora swept her into her arms in a tight hug and the solidness of her body told Vivian that she was still alive and that this moment, as distant as it still felt from her grasp, was reality.
"I'm so glad you're here," Aurora said into Vivian's hair.
Vivian gripped her more tightly, afraid that when she let her go she would disappear again.
"I am, too," she said, then paused, "But where exactly is 'here'?"
Aurora laughed. The sound was clear and honest, the most genuine laugh she had heard come from her best friend in months, possibly a year. She finally sounded relaxed and calm again after so long of being tense, uncomfortable, and grieving. Though she had rarely said anything to her, Vivian had seen the pain and devastation in Aurora's eyes and watched as the girl she had known since they were in elementary school faded away into the artificial image her father and Greyson had created for her.