Because you’ve never done this before. For all your interaction with dragon shifters, you’ve never been devoured by lust before. You’ve never lost yourself to the moment. Whatever he’s done to you, it’s made you—
“Now tell me again.” The Australian’s voice growled over her senses, sending a ripple of wicked excitement through her. Damn it, why did just the sound of his voice push her close to orgasmic rapture? “Why did you want me out in that alley so badly? Why are you denying you’re a dragon?” He drew closer to her still. “And while we’re at it, what is your name?”
Deanne forced herself to remain motionless. “I’m not a dragon. I’m a Rider. You’re not my first. My name is none of your bus—”
His mouth closed over hers before she could finish, the kiss brutal and savage. Before she could stop herself, or contemplate what she was doing, she poured herself into the kiss, her tongue mating with his. This wasn’t the plan, but she couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to stop.
The ends justified the means; that had always been her way. The ends justified the means.
Oh, but you’ve never experienced “means” like this before, Roe, have you?
The Australian’s hands scraped up her rib cage, covered her breasts. She whimpered, pressing her hips to his. She was on fire again. Burning up in her desire. Her need for him. To be filled by him.
She reached for his fly, her pulse racing at the feel of his trapped, engorged cock straining against the denim. That was good. It would spring free the second she released it. She could impale herself on its hard, thick length immediately.
She could—
His lips tore from hers. There one second—gone the next. As were his hands from her body.
Deanne snapped open her eyes, her breath ragged.
He stood but a few feet away, the edges of his mouth twitching. “Now tell me what your name is. Or shall I spend the rest of eternity calling you Fire Mate?”
Fire Mate.
The two words seemed to reach into Deanne’s core like a tight fist. Her pulse accelerated until it was a painful hammering in her throat, her nipples grew hard and painful. A heat more intense than the sun’s rays caressed her flesh, her limbs. Laved at her sex, her clit.
She gasped, her eyes wide, her breath caught.
What the fuck was going on? None of this made any sense.
“What is a Fire Mate?” she asked. The faintest stirrings of fear licked at her. Tainted the concentrated lust heating her blood.
The Australian’s stare narrowed. “How can you not know?”
Deanne licked at her lips. They were dry. And craving the touch of his. “I told you,” she snapped back, although even to her ears it sounded like a whispered plea. “I’m not a dragon shifter. I’m a groupie. I get off on sex with your kind. I hunt your kind to—”
“Hunt? Fuck, I forgot…” The man’s snarl made her flinch. He stepped away from her, scanning the dark park around them.
He suddenly looked dangerous. Very dangerous. Menacing strength seemed to claim his tall, lean body, and a low growl—unlike any she’d heard a dragon shifter make before—rumbled in his chest. It should have made her worried. On edge. Instead, the whole package made her aroused.
Made her want to throw him to the ground, strip his clothes from his body, and impale herself on his cock.
“The Extraho Venator may have tracked us,” he said, turning back to her. “It’s not safe for us here with the hunter likely on our tail, and I’m not in the mood to shift to incinerate him.”
Deanne’s heart slammed into her throat. Shift.
Oh boy, Roe, that’s exactly what you want him to do. Of course, the timing completely sucks now.
“We need to get out of here,” he said. “Now.”
“Or we could go back to the alley,” she suggested, head roaring, pulse pounding. “My bike is there. We could go back together, and I could maybe take you to wherever it is you go to stretch your wings.”
Silver-gray eyes turned to her. His nostrils flared. “What is your name?”
The tone of his voice sent a wicked thrill into the pit of her belly. She’d never met a dragon like him. He was…intoxicating. Swallowing the sudden lump of confusion in her throat, she lifted her chin and met his unwavering stare. “Tigress.”
He burst out laughing.
Deanne gaped at him. Laughing? He was laughing? At her? Right now? How did a man go instantly from being almost petrifying in his menacing intensity to downright sexy in his boyish mirth?
“Of course your name’s Tigress.” He grinned, shaking his head. “The ink should have given it away.”
Deanne’s hand flew to the tiger tattoo above her hipbone. “Do you have a problem with my name?”
“I do if you expect me to call you that from now on.” He chuckled. “Especially when we’re having sex. A dragon should not yell out Tigress while fucking another like rabbits. One too many animals in the mix, I’m afraid.”
A fresh ribbon of lust unfurled through Deanne at his words. She pressed her thighs together, willed the craven want away and crossed her arms over her breasts. “Who says we’re going to have sex? Maybe the way you’re behaving is too weird for me to actually want sex with you anymore. And what’s wrong with calling out Tigress?”
He laughed again. “We’re Fire Mates. We’re going to spend the next two or three centuries having sex. As far as I know, Fire Mates rarely go a day without fucking.”
That hot ribbon of unsettling desire threaded through Deanne’s agitation again. An invisible lick of heat stroked over her clit. Having sex with him every day? Fuck, what would it be like to have sex with him every day? Kissing him had almost undone her. What would it be like to—
Roe. Get your head together. That’s not the game plan.
She narrowed her eyes into a glare. None of this was the game plan. The amazing kiss, the surreal effect he was having on her body, the way he seemed to be messing with her head, the dragon hunter in the alley…this bizarre conversation… “Only two or three centuries, draco?” She emphasized the term. “You’re not into commitment, I see.”
A grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. “You titled me draco, honey, not me. My name’s actually Ryan. And four or five centuries is the average lifespan of a dragon shifter, give or take a few decades, even ones denying what they are for some reason. Less if they’ve got an Extraho Venator sniffing out their scent. Which we do, so can we go now?” The grin grew wider. Mischievous. Sexy. “Tigress?”
Deanne’s belly knotted. The longer she stayed with him, the more dangerous it became. Especially after the unexpected attack in the alley. Ryan was correct; the dragon hunter wouldn’t stop. Not now that he’d found his target. Not after such a close call. Unless Julian had dealt with him, the hunter wouldn’t let up his pursuit, and Ryan was likely to find himself impaled with a crossbow bolt or two.
Which meant Deanne had to stay with him.
And have sex with him. Lots of—
She killed the disturbingly enticing thought before it could finish forming. It didn’t stop the pressure in her sex throbbing harder though. Nor the twisting need in her belly. Damn it, this was going to get complicated. Really complicated.
Grounding her teeth, she fixed Ryan with a level look. “Your place or mine?”
He chuckled. “That’s my little Tigress.”
With a wink, he turned and began running through the shadows, heading deeper into the park.
Deanne swiveled at the waist, scanning the area around her. If the Extraho Venator was about, she couldn’t feel him watching. That didn’t mean he wasn’t lurking in the dark, but she doubted it. By the time he’d made it back to the street from his hasty fire-escape scale, she and Ryan would have been long gone. Most hunters knew how to track a dragon however, and she didn’t think it would be long before this one found Ryan again.
Unless he’s incompetent? He did shoot at Ryan while he was still in human form, after all.
Biting back a lo
w growl of contempt, Deanne ran after Ryan. She couldn’t let him out of her sight now. She’d have to change all her plans, but she couldn’t let him out of her sight. Hopefully her father had dealt with the hunter and the threat was over and she could finish what she’d set out to do weeks—
Her foot collided with something hard and she stumbled to a halt, peering at the dark ground. Or rather, what was on the ground—clothes. Tossed aside clothes. Jeans. Boots. Socks. A T-shirt.
Clothes she recognized. Ryan’s clothes.
Her heart punched its way into her throat. Crap. He’d shifted. Or was about to. And she’d lost sight of him.
Crap, shit, fuck.
She squinted into the blackness around her, searching for a naked Australian.
Nothing. They were in the middle of a large clearing, with what looked like a concrete sidewalk or bicycle track ringing the perimeter before the trees started again. Thin wispy clouds stretched across the black sky, the pale new moon casting little light on her surroundings.
Deanne bunched her fists. “Damn it.”
Wherever Ryan was, she couldn’t see him.
A cold ribbon of unease threaded through her frustration. And a thick rope of emptiness.
Emptiness? What is there to feel empty about? Failure?
The answer didn’t fit. She turned on the spot, searching for him.
Her so-called “Fire Mate”.
What exactly was a Fire Mate? And why did Ryan keep insisting she was his?
And more to the point, why did he insist she was a dragon?
Perhaps you’ve spent so long studying dragon shifters you’ve taken on some of their traits. You’ve been tracking Ryan ever since he arrived in America, after all. Maybe he’s caught your scent more than once and confused it with—
The air above her displaced with a violent gush of wind. It slammed into her, sending her backward in a tangle of feet. She fell on her ass, the ground cold on her bare legs, her hair whipping about her face as another gust of air flowed over her.
And then a massive form the color of fresh blood appeared in front of her. A massive form in the shape of a dragon, its wings beating the air with slow swipes as it landed on all fours a few yards away, its long, wickedly-sharp talons digging into the soft grass.
Deanne’s breath caught in her throat, her attention ensnared by the creature before her.
Oh my God, he’s beautiful.
The thought had just enough time to whisper through her stunned mind as a million pinpricks of molten fire covered her flesh, and then a kaleidoscope of iridescent light shimmered over the dragon’s form and Ryan stood there, gloriously naked.
So beautiful…
“My hotel is over a mile that way,” he said, waving an arm to his right as he strode toward her, his exquisitely sculpted muscles coiling and flexing with each step. His very impressive shaft, she couldn’t help but notice, was semi-rigid between his thighs. “I couldn’t detect that many people on the streets between here and there, but that doesn’t surprise me, given the time of—”
The word night didn’t leave his lips. It had no hope. Not when Deanne slammed into him, her arms wrapping around his neck, her lips crushing his.
The sight of Ryan in his dragon form had reignited the starving, ravenous need for him. The sight of his naked human form—so beautiful, so sensual, so sexy—had been the propellant that moved her forward.
She kissed him, unable to stop. It was dangerous and stupid and insane, but she had to kiss him. She had to taste his saliva on her tongue, her lips. She had to feel him groan into her mouth as she wrought pleasure on his soul. The fire sweeping through her, the burning desire consuming her, demanded it. If she didn’t kiss him, if she didn’t fuck him, she would surely incinerate in a need more powerful, fiercer than any she had known or experienced. It was beyond her; it frightened her. She could no more fathom it than she could deny it.
The only thing that mattered was being pleasured by Ryan and pleasuring him in return. Bringing him to climax, over and over. Sucking his seed from his cock with her mouth. Riding his face until his tongue made her come. Fucking him. Being claimed by him.
Mating with him. As all Fire Mates do.
The nonsensical concept sent shards of liquid tension into her pussy. She raked at his bare chest, her nails dragging over his puckered nipples. He moaned, his hands finding her clothes and tearing at them. She helped him. Shucking out of her skirt even as she continued to worship his mouth. She kicked the garment away, the cool night air flowing over her feverish flesh, between her thighs, over her moisture-slicked folds.
Ryan’s fingers sank into her slit, wriggling deep inside her. She bucked into his penetrations, her whimpers of capitulation vibrating in her chest. His lips left her mouth, his teeth nipping a path down her throat, along her collarbone, her shoulder. He scissored his fingers within her inner walls, finding her G-spot with masterful talent every time.
“Oh, oh,” she panted at the dark night sky, her fingers threading through his hair. “Oh yes. Yes.”
She rode his hand, an orgasm crashing through her with startling force. So fast, so powerful.
“That’s it, Tigress.” Ryan’s breath was hot on her neck, in her ear. “Lose yourself to the pleasure.”
She cried out, the climax shuddering through her with growing pressure. She clung to him, her knees shaking, her head swimming. God, this was amazing. How could it be so good? With just his fingers? With just a touch?
Iridescent whips of blue lashed at the blackness of the night. She cried out again, the color like a physical caress on her soul.
Blue fire. Blue fire engulfed her, engulfed them both. Where…where was it coming from? And how was she not screaming in pain? How was she…she…
The blue light swirled over her vision. Flames of color that danced and flicked into shapes that Deanne’s desire-drowned mind swore were dragons. Two dragons, their graceful bodies pressed together, their tails entwined, their wings whisking them into the night as their noses nuzzled.
“Come for me, my mate.” Ryan’s murmur played over her rapture like mist.
She did, her second climax rocketing through her.
Claiming her, just as he wrapped his other arm around her back and lowered her to the ground.
Her orgasm peaked, a detonation of scalding fire within her core. She clawed at his shoulders, the dragons of blue fire writhing through the darkness, making her burn hotter, hotter.
And then he spread her thighs with a purposeful knee and pushed inside her, his thick, hard length sliding in and out, driving her closer, faster to another orgasm. An impossible orgasm. One that shouldn’t be. One that could only bring pain.
“Fuck me, Tigress.” He thrust into her, his lips on her throat, his hands on her breasts, her belly, her ass. “You are so tight, so perfect. I’m gonna…gonna come soon. Soon. Oh fuck, come with me, honey. Come with me.”
Deanne whimpered. From pleasure. From rapture. From the fire engulfing her.
And as she called out her release, as Ryan’s name burst past her lips, the dragons swirled about her. Filled her vision. The night’s shadows grew blue, blue, so blue she could barely see. The sky vanished, lost to flames so hot they burned beyond blue to white.
Flames surrounding her. Surrounding Ryan.
Engulfing them both.
“Fuck,” Ryan roared, his rhythm lost to his thrusts. “Fuck, yes, yes.”
Their twin orgasms lasted a lifetime. The blue fire flared around them. Consumed them.
And then all too quickly, it finished. Deanne’s climax faded away, leaving her breathless and panting and clinging to Ryan’s hunched shoulders as he lay slumped—half on her, half on the ground beside her. She stared at the black, cloud-streaked sky above, her flesh ice cold after the smolder of the flames.
Flames? Blue fire? How are you still alive? This can’t be…
Ryan’s low, languid chuckle caressed the side of her throat. “Told you you were my Fire Mate.”
<
br /> Deanne’s pulse thumped. She swallowed. “I’m not a dragon. I told you, I’m a Rider. That’s—”
“Bullshit,” he laughed, lifting his head to grin down at her. “Honey, you just lived through the mating fire. A human doesn’t survive that, no matter how many dragon shifters they’ve screwed. You know it. I know it. And now we’ve found each other, now we’ve experienced it together…”
Whatever Ryan said after that, Deanne didn’t hear.
She stared at him, her heart smashing fast against her breastbone, her mouth dry.
The blue fire.
Holy shit, had she just lived through what Julian sarcastically called the “fuck flames”? The phenomenon that occurred when two rutting dragons spontaneously combusted during coitus?
Had she truly just…just burst into flames, blue flames, while having an orgasm? A soul-shattering orgasm?
Had she?
Had she?
Oh God, how could that be?
She wasn’t a dragon shifter. She wasn’t. How could she be a dragon and not know it? It wasn’t possible.
No Extraho Venator could ever be a dragon.
And she’d been an Extraho Venator since the day her father had put a crossbow in her hands at the age of twelve, aimed it at a downed dragon, and told her to squeeze the trigger.
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About Lexxie
Award-winning romance author Lexxie Couper started writing when she was six, and hasn't stopped since. She's not a deviant, but she does have a deviant's imagination, and a desire to entertain readers with her words. Add the two together and you get erotic romances that can make you laugh, cry, shake with fear, or tremble with desire…sometimes all at once.
How to Love Your Dragon Page 13