Romance: The College Bad Boy: A Young Adult Romance

by Veronica Cross

  “I know what you’re doing,” Kiraz growled, as he trotted, wings unfurling. “Please wait until we have at least reached the destination before any extra shenanigans occur.”

  “You might need to fly fast, then,” Giss suggested.

  She whooped in delight when Kiraz launched into the air, gigantic wings latching onto wind currents. They ghosted through the night, the cold wind screaming on either side as Kiraz picked up speed, hurtling for the destination planned. Gissandra held onto his horns, glad for the gloves acting as an extra shield against the chill. In the peeks she managed over the beat of Kiraz’s wings, she saw the kingdoms below lit up by a myriad of different lights, some yellow, some orange. From this vantage point, she couldn’t see Avelon, but wondered what the dark prince’s kingdom appeared like from so high, as it entwined with mountains and lakes at the very heart of the world.

  The area Kiraz intended loomed closer. Trees and flowers swam into vision, along with the snake lines of rivers, and the lush green forests, untouched by humans or dragons.

  When Kiraz touched down, he did it delicately, letting Gissandra down onto loamy earth, blooming with flowers. He transformed into a human, the white fluff of a newly created werebunny floating behind him, and gave her time to acclimatize to the new environment.

  Willow trees leaned over a small pond, lit up by the golden glow of fireflies on the branches and the trees. Logs coated in moss and colorful flowers decorated a small but vibrant expanse of nature. They could see a view of Jaeland below through a bowl-like perspective past the trees. Dirt tracks, perhaps made by deer, led out of the glade.

  “Okay. This is amazing.” Gissandra crouched down to pluck a blue flower from the selection offered, and smelled it. “You sure know how to please a lady.”

  Kiraz grinned, flopping down nearby the lake on a soft patch of moss. “I planted the willow trees here, long ago, and watched them grow. Jaeland at the time was a newly established kingdom, and only a few lights could be seen. It has grown and flourished like the trees.”

  Gissandra joined him, lying down beside him, admiring the scenery, his clothes, his reminiscent expression. “Is it strange? Remembering things how they used to be, and seeing them as they are now?”

  “Not really. Everything changes. I planted the seeds with that knowledge. Now, Giss. Tell me. How do you feel?”

  “I feel fine. Happy. Privileged, even.” Gissandra took in a deep breath, absorbing the scents of the plants around her.

  Kiraz tapped his fingers on the moss, dissatisfied. “You don’t talk so much about your life back in Jaeland. When you do, it’s always something flippant or derogatory, regarding those that you have spent your entire life with. I know you came to these mountains to escape from them, but don’t you miss them at all? Explain to me, princess.” Kiraz stroked her across the cheek, amber eyes gentle.

  Giss sighed, feeling at that moment the weight of all eighteen years of her life, the way blood moved in her body with every heart pump. “It’s really not that much to say, Kiraz. I was raised a spoiled princess, with all the right ingredients for a happy life. I had riches, clothes, and was famous without even trying. However, something was missing. I didn’t know what it was, or why I noticed it more astutely than the people around me. They would say to stop being stupid and just accept what’s been handed to me on a plate.”

  The dragon nodded, still stroking her cheek with one thumb. “Go on.”

  Gissandra gathered her frayed thoughts together, trying to pinpoint the distant, unexplainable urge inside. “I found a word for the feeling, once, thanks to the court philosopher. ‘Monachopsis’; a persistent feeling of being out of place, detached with the world. I had everything materialistically. But I didn’t have anything here.” She tapped her heart. “So you could throw me all the sparkling things the world had to offer, and all I really wanted was to have a normal conversation with someone. To share moments with people – to be able to love what I did and strove for, rather than love the status my luck had given me.”

  Kiraz smiled. “So you wanted something more simple. Happiness.”

  “The age old dream,” Gissandra agreed, mimicking the expression. “I tried striking up friendships with the servants. They taught me more about their values, though when they started getting executed for going along with my curiosity too much, I stopped. I had a puppy, but when it peed on the royal throne, it disappeared the next day. When I sought an education because I didn’t understand or like the idea of just making myself beautiful and sitting around doing nothing – like my sisters – each and every lesson eventually got cancelled. Then, when I was told I would be forcibly married off to a halfwit prince, I basically lost it. Next thing you know; I’m hitched up with a shapeshifting dragon. Funny how life turns out.”

  “Indeed. I’m fairly glad you turned up practically on my doorstep. I still can’t get over Balon’s reaction.” Kiraz chuckled.

  “So in answer to your question of missing them; I really don’t. The luxuries, sure. But my family, no. I know I should feel bad about that, but I don’t, and I don’t care. It’s just how it is. I’m happier here than I ever was back there, so there is no challenge.” Gissandra kissed Kiraz on the lips, lingering in the taste of them for a moment. “Tell me a little more about yourself. Since I’ve spilled out most of my incredibly tragic and exciting life story to you.”

  Kiraz reciprocated the kiss, threading fingers through her hair. He broke apart.

  “I’ll tell you a little bit, princess, as you wish.” He fell silent for a moment, flitting through his memories. When he spoke, it was with solemn gravity. “I’ve seen many things, princess, in the land of monsters. Wars between humans, wars between the creatures of the wilderness. Dragons do not have the human type of rearing. We are born as part of a brood, and there can be several hatchlings in one batch. We do not form close bonds with our parents, or each other. We’re encouraged to strike off from the nest and either form our own territory, or join a clan, especially if we’re male, since we cannot mate with our sister hatchlings. The female hatchlings – of which there are more – they often remain with the brood they were born in. Young male dragons are always arriving and leaving. There are about ten main clans, and a lot of smaller ones. I joined with Harkrul’s clan. His is one of the smallest ‘main’ clans around, but the most peaceful, since the lands around the peaks are barely touched.”

  “How long did you know Harkrul for?”

  “A long time, princess. He groomed an heir to replace him, of course. He is called Kazan. Kazan is young, but he has some innovative ideas.”

  Gissandra frowned. “So where are all the other dragons of this clan? Because I think I’ve only seen a tiny fragment of it.”

  “We’re spread all along the mountain range, princess. I shall introduce you to the broodmothers and fathers at some point. I think you will be surprised.” Kiraz’s hand drifted to Gissandra’s exposed shoulders, trailing warmth.

  “Have you loved, before?”

  “Twice. Once with a dragon, and once with a princess, a long time ago. Both are dust, now. The princess was the reason I chose to learn transformation magic.”

  Gissandra smiled. “Tell me about them.”

  “They are stories for another time, Gissandra. I am sure you will enjoy hearing them, but right now, I wish to be in the present. With you. With a strange little princess who made it her destiny to run off with a dragon and help accidentally turn one of the evilest humans of the thousand kingdoms into a cute kitten.”

  A sly smile crept onto Gissandra’s face. “I can work with that.” Curiosity simmered within – she wanted to envision Kiraz’s past, how dragons interacted with each other, understand more how their brains worked, since they were every bit as intelligent as a human. “Monster” suggested they were less. Something that existed on pure instinct, and sought a path of destruction. The definition needed to be reinvented.

  Kiraz connected with Giss’s lips, hooking his arms under her shoulders
to drag her close. Her dress rustled over the flowers as she wedged one leg in-between his, and she grasped his face with gloved hands. With closed eyes, she indulged into the kiss, adapting to the way Kiraz moved, following and intensifying the motions. If he kissed slow, she did the same, with feather-light touches. If he deepened it, she parted her mouth so their tongues contacted.

  The tranquil setting of the tiny glade relaxed Gissandra, gladdened her heart, both with the concept that such a place existed, and that Kiraz went out of his way to bring her here, to something he tended to with his own hands. She scoured her palms over the tweed jacket, encouraging Kiraz to extract himself out of it, so it puddled up on the flowers behind. A firefly hovered nearby.

  Snatching breaks from their kissing, they got to work on exploring each other’s bodies underneath their garments, keeping them on to increase the sensual impact.

  Out of all the things Giss might have seen for herself in the future, falling in love dwelled at the bottom of the list. Yet, she entertained the possibility now of love. Not being an expert in the matter, she couldn’t conclude her feelings for the dragon.

  All she knew was that she didn’t want him to go away. Ever. Or to stop doing this. It had been real, crushing fear when Ardemar turned his blade onto Kiraz, that she would witness him die in front of her, and flooding relief when the threat resolved itself.

  And now… taking the action up a notch, she fumbled with the buttons of Kiraz’s long-sleeved shirt, flicking them one by one. Kiraz groped Gissandra’s dress, trying to find the place where it came undone.

  “How does this even work?” He muttered, stopping their kissing to concentrate hard. “I have half a mind to just tear the silly thing off.”

  Gissandra shook with silent laughter. “There’s buttons on the side… no, not that one… yes. You found it!”

  “They’re so tiny! How do you humans force yourselves into these?”

  Still shaking with mirth, Gissandra clapped when Kiraz finally popped out the last button, allowing him to tug the dress off by shimmying it down her body. All that remained on her were transparent tights, and silk panties. Kiraz’s bare chest remained partially shielded by his shirt – and his tweed pants were still firmly attached on.

  “We need to do something about that.” Gissandra’s voice lowered, adopting sultry undertones. She unsubtly started tugging at his pants.

  “See? What’s the point in wearing nice clothes if they’re just going to be torn off anyway?” Kiraz exclaimed, as he positioned himself for Giss to peel off the pants, revealing his partially aroused member.

  “Think of it like food presentation. If it looks tasty, then you’re going to enjoy eating it a lot more.”

  One of Kiraz’s eyebrows formed a squiggle. “But food tastes the same regardless of what it looks like.”

  “Oh, right. I forgot you like Brendag’s creepy looking slop dishes. Uh… just take my word for it. Deal with the philosophy later.”

  “I can do that,” Kiraz whispered.

  Soon enough, both of them fully naked, with the half-moon and the fireflies in the trees providing light, they took a lot longer to explore each other. Giss moved her palms over every inch of skin she could reach, seeking grooves, finding ticklish spots, scratching over the hairs of his chest and face, mussing up the ones on his head. Kiraz’s rough, calloused hands sought her body in return, marveling at the soft, smooth skin, at the way her spine arched, and her hair fanned out onto the moss.

  Gissandra felt his excitement build as he turned them over, kneeling between her thighs, fingers massaging her breasts. His penis had hardened, and twitched as she bucked her hips upwards to grind along his length. Amber eyes glazed in pleasure as she spread her legs further, allowing him to fall into her. She was so wet that he slid in without assistance, her excitement peaking. Her heart thumped hard and fast, and Kiraz collapsed onto her, thrusting his hips forcibly against her. She clung on tight, raking his back with her nails, breaths transitioning into a series of moans. Pleasure exploded inside her, from the brush of his body onto hers, the way he never once broke eye contact, watching her reaction, grinning when she grinned, groaning at the feel of her holding and capturing him.

  It wasn’t enough. She wanted more, to crush him into her, for both of them to burn up together, to make the moment last forever – but moments were like drops of rain, there and gone. Her orgasm coiled inside her, and her thighs trembled from the amounting pressure. She braced her feet onto the moss to generate more tension, and the orgasm snapped through her limbs like a typhoon, bliss melting her emotions. Kiraz came as well, shuddering with pleasure, before leaving the warmth of her, and cuddling up to the side. Gissandra raised a tingling hand to wipe off some of the moisture on his brow, beaming like an idiot.

  They stayed like that for quite some time, gazing into each other’s faces, memorizing all the important details, the smells and sounds of the night and their bodies.

  There were still a lot of things for Gissandra to deal with. More trials would head their way, followed by the mysteries of their magical world. No doubt the knights would eventually ride back into the picture, at the urging of her royal parents, and that ridiculously high reward. No doubt more villains would appear to replace Ardemar with equally dubious plans of world domination. But right now, in this moment, she felt complete, and wanted to hold onto the feeling for as long as possible. Before dawn came.

  “This is our night,” Kiraz whispered, nuzzling his nose into hers. “Forget everything else for this time.”

  Gissandra intended to do just that.

  Enjoy the story? Sign up for our steamy romance mailing list to receive news on releases and promotions!

  Click Here!

  Have any feedback we can pass on to our authors? Email us at midspublishing@gmail.com

  The Art of Love

  A Billionaire Romance

  Veronica Cross

  The Art of Love

  Copyright 2016 by Veronica Cross

  First electronic publication: July 2016

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to person, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: Due to mature subject matter, such as explicit sexual situations and coarse language, this story is not suitable for anyone under the age of 18. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older, and all acts of a sexual nature are consensual.

  The Art of Love

  Chapter 1

  It was a beautiful morning in Cobble Hill. Through his office window, Clifford could see sea gulls swooping low over the surface of the East River, snatching slow-moving fish swimming too near to the surface, for their breakfast. He watched them for a long moment, carefully ignoring everything that his assistant Madison was saying.

  His coffee was hot and sweet, exactly how he liked it. He was drinking it from a bowl he’d commissioned from Shiho Kanzaki. Like all of Shiho’s work, it was perfectly balanced and exquisitely functional. She’d glazed it in earthen tones that evoked the low rolling hills that surrounded her hometown, Koka City.

  Clifford smiled. When Shiho had let him know his bowl was done, he’d immediately ordered his pilot to fly him to her studio. His private helicopter had created quite a stir. While air traffic over the Shiga prefecture was not uncommon, having a craft touch down in the town square was.

  “I don’t see why you’re laughing,” Madison snapped. “Thirty-two million dollars is a lot of money. You’ve made a laughing stock of yourself.”

>   “I would have been a bigger laughing stock if I let an undiscovered Magritte go,” Clifford replied. “And I wasn’t the only one interested. Ross had people making inquiries.”

  “That’s not what I’ve heard. They’re saying they knew it was a fake the minute they laid eyes on it.” Madison pressed her fingertips against the side of her temple, perfectly manicured nails just brushing against the edge of her tightly curled hair. Her brown eyes flashed. “Apparently it’s not funny enough to be a real Magritte.”

  Clifford chuckled again. “Wilbur Ross wouldn’t know a joke if it walked up to him and gave him a big juicy kiss.”

  “And yet he’s not the one with a bogus painting.” Madison shook her head. “You are.”

  “It’s not a bad little painting.” Clifford turned to regard the artwork in question, which was currently leaning against his office wall. A stylized woman with cube-like arms and a blocky torso played a violin. “It reminds me of Georgette at the Piano.”

  “It’s meant to remind you of Georgette at the Piano.” Madison lit a cigarette, taking several quick puffs. “That’s rather the point. If it didn’t look like a Magritte, you never would have given it a second glance.”

  “I don’t know about that.” Clifford tilted his head, looking at the painting with renewed interest. “It’s quite well-done.” He shifted his gaze to Madison. “Anyway, I thought you told me that you gave up smoking.”

  “I started again.” It was Madison’s turn to stare out the penthouse window.

  “Obviously,” Clifford said. “I wish you wouldn’t. It’s a filthy habit. And it’s not very good for your health.”

  “Do you know what’s not good for my health, Clifford?” Madison asked. “Getting calls from Bloomberg reporters before the sun even comes up, about a painting I didn’t even know you were considering…”