Dragon's Song: Dragon's Queen

by Cameo Brown

  A blue official stormed in, followed by the angry customer wrapped in some kind of blanket. “Kill it! It’s a drag -- what?” he yelled, stopping in his tracks as the scene registered.

  The blue official put his hands on his hips and frowned. “I don’t see a dragon, buddy, just some big guy diddling your girlfriend. We don’t do domestic shit. If your gal ain’t got nothing better to do than fuck other guys, that’s your problem. Don’t call New York’s finest unless there’s a real crime. Got it?”

  The woman groaned, and Mojogan moved his ass from side to side, moaning and pretending he’d been the cause of her unsolicited praise.

  “Whore!” the man snarled. He grabbed his clothes and stomped out the door, slamming it behind him.

  Mojogan blinked. Well, of course she was. Fingertips touched his shoulder, and Mojogan dared to glance down. Eyes like brown honey captivated him. Full, pink lips tempted him. Warm, soft breasts with hard tips poking his chest weakened his resolve.

  The silkiness of her chestnut hair beckoned his touch, and her mouth, slightly open, invited his exploration. Her fair, freckled cheeks held a tinge of color, and Mojogan couldn’t remember the last time a maiden’s cheeks, prostitute or no, fired under his touch. He hardened instantly.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  The angry female voice drew his attention. Eyes blazing, Emerson struggled to free herself. Relieved, and, to his surprise, a little disappointed, Mojogan rolled to the side and let her crawl off the bed.

  She covered her front with some black cloth she grabbed from the floor, straightened her back, and pointed to the door. “Get out of my apartment before I call the police.”

  Her determination to make him leave was evident, although by the way she watched him out of the corner of her eye, her curiosity rivaled her need to make him go.

  Sure, he’d leave. He’d leave as soon as he got the information he needed about Isyndre, and as soon as she gave him his shirt back. Although, he had to admit, he liked the way her pussy peeked out from underneath it as she clutched it in front of her. It sported some strange markings he’d never seen before, her woman’s fur having been removed everywhere but down the middle of her mons. The dark line led his gaze right to the cleft of her pussy lips, lips his cock could easily spread.

  His groin tightened and desire coiled in his belly. “I’ve come for a little girl,” Mojogan explained, and hoped she’d provide the answer he needed to hear.

  Emerson’s eyes widened and she leaned toward him, her stance wary. She studied his eyes, tilting her head and bending even closer. A hard, dusky nipple poked out from the dark cloth as she angled to get a better view of his face, and Mojogan barely resisted reaching out and pinching it.

  She examined him closely. “You’re Isyndre’s Uncle Mojogan?”

  He started, his gaze snapping to her face. He jumped from the bed, the blanket hiding his erection falling away. “Where is she?” he demanded more forcefully than he intended. Emerson hopped back in surprise, her attention riveted on his erection.

  She stepped on something shiny and stumbled backward. Hanging onto his shirt, she fought to stay upright. Mojogan caught her just before she hit the floor. He pinned her to the wall with his body, holding her in place so she couldn’t hurt herself again. She had to be the most uncoordinated female he’d ever met.

  “Be careful! Don’t step on my vibrator,” Emerson cried, pointing to a shiny object as it rolled past them and hit the wall with a clink.

  “What’s a vibrator?”

  Emerson’s face turned bright red. “Um, it’s for, you know, vibrating massages. It makes muscles feel better.”

  “Aah. Which muscles?”

  Her breathing quickened as he let his body relax into hers, his arms on either side of her head. He knew very well a vibrator was used by women for more than aching muscles, having encountered the concept before on prior trips to the Time After, but Emerson looked so adorable trying to avoid looking directly at him, he couldn’t resist taunting her.

  The image of her lying on her bed, legs spread, the hard toy sliding in and out of her wet pussy while she pleasured herself, made his cock twitch. Oh, how this one needed a good fucking, and not by a customer. He smelled her need. Only his flimsy shirt, which Emerson clutched to her chest, kept their skin from touching. Her heat burned right through it, though, and the dizzying yearnings he’d fought to overcome since he’d arrived threatened to overwhelm him again.

  “She -- she’s at Child Protective Services,” Emerson stammered, changing the subject. “I called the police when I found her wandering around Dong Wong all alone.”

  “The Chinese food-serving place?”

  Emerson nodded. “I go there for lunch. She told me she wandered off from her family and they were far away, but that she knew her Uncle Mojogan would come for her. I couldn’t leave her there alone. She has your eyes.”

  Mojogan’s thoughts heated in proportion to the huskiness tingeing Emerson’s voice, a haze of pure primal need replacing any lucid contemplation. Emerson’s essence surrounded him again, her desire becoming his own and gnawing at him to take action.

  “I must get to her,” Mojogan reminded himself, wrestling with his growing passion. He rubbed Emerson’s pale hip absently and stared hard at her mouth as she spoke.

  “It’s after midnight. I don’t think you can get her until morning. Even if they take you to her, they’d have to wake her up.”

  Emerson’s words made sense, but his body’s response to hers didn’t. “I should go.”

  “Yes,” Emerson agreed in a tiny voice. She licked her lips, and his dick almost burst. Closing his eyes, he forced himself away from her and searched for his pants. “Do you have a place to stay tonight? You could stay here,” Emerson offered, and the hope in her voice boiled the blood in his veins. She wanted him to stay. She wanted him. He wanted her.

  There was only one problem. “I’ve got no coin.”

  Emerson gave him a shy smile. “You don’t need to pay me to sleep here.” She looked down and adjusted his shirt to cover her breasts.

  “But I want to fuck you. I’ve no coin, and you’ve got to make a living.”

  Emerson’s gaze snapped to his, her eyes bulging, and for a moment he thought she’d pass out. He’d never seen so many emotions flicker across a woman’s face in such a short span of time, and the frown developing from the violent twitches around her mouth told him he’d used the wrong words to express himself. Some very wrong words.

  “You think I’m a hooker?” she gasped, her eyes flashing. She stomped toward him and waved her arms at him. The shirt dropped to the ground. “Get out! Get out! Get out!” she yelled, her voice growing louder by the minute.

  “Sorry.” Mojogan tried to apologize, realizing hooker must mean the same thing as prostitute. “I assumed when I saw the building and its occupants…”

  Emerson huffed, her mouth dropping open. “Get out!”

  Mojogan dropped his pants. “No.”

  “I told you to leave! At once!”

  “No.”

  “Then I’m leaving,” Emerson announced, and turned toward the door. She made one step before Mojogan had her slung over his shoulder, and, careful to avoid her flailing arms, he jostled her over to the bed and dropped her onto it. “Why, you sonofabi --”

  Mojogan sat down beside her, his legs adjusted to the height of the broken bed. With her next attempt to hit him, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her across his lap, which was no small feat considering the size of his erection. He settled her over his knees and secured her breast in his hand, his fingers squeezing it until she stopped thrashing. With his other hand, he smacked her ass. Hard.

  She screamed like an angry cat and continued to flop around. He smacked her ass again. She gasped, her resistance lessening. Mojogan made sure the final blow to her soft, white mounds stung, and she moaned.

  He massaged her breast and rubbed her ass cheeks, now warm and glowing reddish-pink fro
m his attentions. Drawing his fingertip down the back of her thigh, he slipped it between her legs. Velvety smooth folds met his touch, and he longed to taste the woman’s honey dripping from her hot pussy. He dipped a fingertip into her wetness and she stiffened.

  “What are you going to do to me?” she asked, breathless.

  Mojogan leaned near her ear and whispered, “Whatever you want me to.”

  Chapter Three

  This couldn’t be real. The sexiest man she’d ever met had somehow wandered into her apartment naked and now wanted to do anything she asked of him to please her. Wow.

  Cream gushed from her, drenching Mojogan’s fingers, but he didn’t seem to care. By the way he stroked her, he seemed to like it.

  Anything I want, Emerson thought as his fingers continued their exploration of her damp, swollen pussy flesh. Anything. “I-I don’t need you, you know,” she clarified, just in case he got the wrong idea.

  “You don’t?”

  “No. But I want you. I want you to tie me up.”

  Mojogan laughed, a deep, hearty sound, and Emerson regretted her impulsive statement. She should have known he’d think she was weird or something.

  “You’re my kind of girl, Emerson of the Time After.” Mojogan pinched her ass. He turned her over on his lap and set her upright, cradling her in his arms.

  His erection poked her. She’d never felt a cock so big. She had no idea what the Time After was, but she didn’t care. An ache she couldn’t explain started deep inside her somewhere and spread to her chest, making her heart pound. She ignored it.

  “I’m going to tie you up and lick your pussy until you scream,” Mojogan whispered into her neck. “Then I’m going to stick my cock in you and ride you until I’m done with you.”

  Her nipples hardened and her breathing quickened. Before she could respond, she found herself on her back on what was left of the bed. Mojogan tore a length of material from her cheap sheets, and bound her hands to the only part of the headboard still standing.

  As the intensity of the situation descended upon her, she panted with anticipation. What the hell was she doing? Mojogan kneeled between her legs, his face inches from her pussy. His tongue flicked the crest of her pussy lips, and she flinched.

  “Let me lick you,” Mojogan demanded, situating her legs over his shoulders.

  His tongue touched her clit, and she gasped. Though she welcomed the hard tip of his tongue, she was unprepared for the incredible pleasure its touch produced. He held it to her clit, massaging it, and she grabbed the ties binding her for support as her hips lifted instinctively to accept his sweet invasion.

  He lapped at her cream, his hunger for her evident in his barely restrained strokes. His tongue slipped into her wet folds, sliding deep into her pussy lips until it reached her tightest opening. The tip of Mojogan’s tongue penetrated her, and Emerson yelled.

  Within seconds, he was on top of her, his huge form crushing her and his cock opening her pussy lips, demanding entrance. Their gazes met. “I’m going to ride you until you can’t take anymore, and you can’t stop me.”

  His emerald eyes darkened with desire and she knew he meant it. Emerson could tell -- women’s intuition. And she liked it.

  The tip of Mojogan’s cock pressed against her clit, igniting a spark only his seed could extinguish. Without warning, his hard length filled her and all rational thought ceased.

  He rode her hard. His stiff cock brushed back and forth against her clit as he drove himself into her. She cried out, encouraging him as much as she dared. “Don’t stop,” she whimpered, wrapping her legs around him and locking her ankles so he couldn’t get away.

  He kissed her, and the salty taste of her own moisture only added to the sensations converging on her brain. His tongue probed the depths of her mouth, tasting her and coaxing her passion to the fore. Mojogan’s tongue teased her mouth while his cock tantalized her pussy. She dug her nails into the soft material binding her wrists and held on, the waves of pleasure carrying her to a place she’d never been but had always wanted to go.

  His seed doused her womb and she came just after, her surrender to his passion complete. He bellowed her name, and they rocked together, her pussy spasming as his hard length brought her to satisfaction. Everything except their union ceased to exist, until her orgasm ebbed and she floated back to earth, returning to her body as Mojogan slowed his thrusts. He lifted into her every so often, taking as much pleasure as her body could offer, until, finally, he collapsed on top of her.

  Emerson didn’t want to wake up from this beautiful dream. She’d just been ravished and she liked it. She liked the way he took control, the way he took her.

  Mojogan spoke not a word, but rolled to her side and untied her before pulling her to his chest. She threw her leg over his waist and her arm across his chest and snuggled in. He nuzzled her hair as the steady beat of his heart lulled her to sleep and carried her away to a different world where large, strange beasts romped through an ethereal forest in a place time forgot. A place where dragons ruled with their hearts and minds. A place she’d searched for all her life, but only in her most pleasant dreams.

  * * *

  Emerson fell into a deep slumber, but Mojogan couldn’t manage to even doze. His body hummed and his mind raced. He’d never met a spunkier female, or a more feminine one. She’d stood up to him in dragon form, taking him on, yet surrendered to his touch so easily. She didn’t have to; she wanted to. She wanted him. This strong, beautiful woman from another time -- a harder, much crueler time -- desired him. He found the idea more than a little unsettling.

  His niece. Mojogan needed to think about Isyndre. Tomorrow he would wake and go to the place for lost children. He would claim his wayward charge and return through the time portal before its destruction. He’d go home, where he belonged, and leave the imp lying next to him here, where she belonged. And they would never see each other again.

  His chest tightened. Mojogan rubbed his free hand across his face. What was wrong with him? He acted like a young dragon on his first courting visit. He’d had many females, both dragon and human, and some males as well. He’d never felt any sort of attachment to any of them. Until now.

  Emerson sighed in her sleep, snuggling closer. Her contentment calmed him, and Mojogan caressed her arm, enjoying the weight of her body on his, holding him there like an anchor securing him in a safe harbor. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to rest, but one disturbing thought nagged at his peace. Tomorrow he’d leave her behind.

  * * *

  Mornings in New York City have an unusual serenity to them. A restless tranquility, as if any minute the city will wake up and all the people will suddenly appear, and along with them the inevitable noise and hustle and bustle. Emerson learned years ago to hold on to this peaceful moment as long as possible, but this morning, the precious moments she’d come to depend upon the past few years seemed to have vanished -- disappeared -- along with the handsome stranger, Mojogan, who’d shared her bed the night before.

  Emerson wiped the steam off the mirror and stared at her reflection, chastising herself. She hadn’t expected him to stay. She never expected any of them to stay. But it would have been nice.

  She should have asked him about the dragon. Did he see it? Did she imagine it? Yes, she should have interrogated him a little longer before letting him tie her up and give her the best fucking of her life.

  Emerson smacked herself in the forehead. What the hell had she been thinking? She knew what she’d been thinking. The memory of his mouth on her pussy brought forth a burst of wetness. It soaked her panties -- her second pair that morning -- and tickled her thighs. At this rate she’d never get to work.

  Work. Ugh. Editing dragon fantasy at Grimsteel, she’d managed to claw her way up in the ranks from an assistant to where she even acquired a few books. She loved her authors and their work. However, like all corporations, Grimsteel operated on bureaucracy, nepotism, and the bottom line, which meant she did a lot of work for
little pay. But it was worth it. One day she might get to edit Eddie Frickter or Jana Lolpman, biggies in her genre.

  Grimsteel also boasted its own share of nitwits, assholes, drama queens and complete bastards. Speaking of which…

  Camden had some explaining to do. She had an editorial meeting this morning, and Camden would definitely be there, considering he was her boss. She decided to be civil long enough for him to explain why he’d left her in the clutches of a hungry dragon, or whatever the hell it was, then she’d decide what to do.

  If he begged forgiveness, she just might refrain from spreading rumors about the size of his cock. She should have known better than to give in to the advances of the schmuck, but what the hell? He seemed nice enough, though a little pushy, and it’s not like she had any other alternatives in this big city supposedly full of opportunity. Even Mojogan didn’t stick around long enough to properly introduce himself.

  Was great sex and great books too much to ask from life? And maybe, just maybe, a little happy ever after?

  Emerson harrumphed. Snap out of it, she scolded herself as she cleaned up, dried her hair, and headed to her closet. Just go to your dream job and forget everything else. This isn’t the first disappointment you’ve had, and it won’t be the last.

  She picked through her small selection and finally settled on a cheery flowered day dress, her favorite, a light yellow with clusters of pink roses, cap sleeves, and a sweetheart neckline. Accessorizing with pink espadrilles, she dressed quickly and grabbed her satchel and her favorite purse.

  The fake leather hobo bag sported flowers of all shapes and sizes, and Emerson loved flowers. She’d picked it up at a used clothing shop back home. It wasn’t trendy or fashionable, but it reminded her that sometimes she might actually get what she wanted out of life. Unfortunately, her destroyed bed reminded her that most of the time she didn’t.

  This morning was one of those times.

  Chapter Four