Flight of Dragons

by Elianne Adams, Sadie Haller, Zoe York, Shelley Munro, Zara Keane, LC Alleyne, Skye Jones, Evanne Lorraine, Ann Gimpel

  Jack ripped his mouth away from hers. “What the devil are you doing?”

  “I’ve wanted to cop a feel of your butt for ages,” she confessed a trifle breathlessly. “It’s…ah…very nice.”

  The sensation of her hands sliding over him, even though he wore shorts, sent his libido soaring into overdrive. His cock hardened with painful intensity until it felt as though his shorts were several sizes too small. A groan formed deep in his chest and without conscious thought, he started a little exploration of his own.

  Smooth skin greeted his touch. He trailed his fingertips across her rib cage and higher to cup one breast. The hands on his butt stilled and when their gazes connected, he saw her wide eyes held a trace of shock. Jack traced the edge of her itty-bitty top with a forefinger then dipped beneath the tight fabric to the smooth flesh beneath. Maintaining her gaze, he leaned over and let his tongue trace the same path. Her scent filled his nostrils—the same lavender and roses he’d noticed earlier plus coconut from her suntan lotion—as he licked over the slope of one breast.

  Not enough. Not nearly enough. He peeled the red material from her breasts, revealing taut pink nipples to the afternoon sun and his gaze. Proud and full breasts that enticed and enthralled him.

  She made a tiny sound. Jack couldn’t decide whether it was shock or one of encouragement.

  Then her lips parted and white teeth flashed in a grin full of challenge. “You gonna stop there?” She rolled slightly, reached behind her back, and Jack heard the faint click of her bikini top closure. The red fabric slid down her arms. A shrug made the material fall away, leaving her topless and vulnerable to his gaze.

  A breath hissed through his teeth. He couldn’t have stopped to save himself. His heart thundered and his taniwha stretched and stirred, prodding him to continue. Slowly, he lowered his head to take one pink nipple in his mouth. Jack closed his lips around the taut peak, the need to do everything all at once riding him hard. Like a man who hadn’t eaten for days, he feasted. Savoring the flavor of her—the texture. Gently biting. Tasting her and tormenting himself with her silky skin and sinful curves.

  Dicing with danger.

  Emma cradled his head, her fingers entwining in his hair, urging him onward. He drew hard on her nipple and she bucked beneath him, brushing against his groin.

  “Harder,” she murmured in a dreamy voice. “That feels so good.” Emma had no pretense in her. She was innocence and honesty wrapped in a bow.

  And he wanted to take this to a conclusion. Jack pulled away far enough to scrutinize her face. Her eyes were closed and her lips curled up in a dreamy smile. That smile jerked him back to reality.

  Jack rolled away, trying to ignore the gleam of her nipples, still wet from his mouth. He wasn’t interested in anything more than a roll in the sack. Getting his rocks off.

  “We’d better go.” He stood and handed his shirt to her so she could cover up. “We have a job to do. Mucking about on the beach isn’t getting it done. Besides, we’ve got this dinner thing.”

  ***

  “I can’t believe it,” Jack muttered, glancing at the huge box Emma carried. He rolled his eyes while the taniwha inside stomped a Maori war dance and combined it with a few exuberant high kicks, judging by the feel of his bouncing gut. A year’s supply of condoms. “I’ve never met anyone with such dumb luck.”

  “I can’t help it,” Emma said cheerfully without a trace of remorse or embarrassment.

  Hell, no. He’d been the one who’d caught the flack. Lots of jokes and pats on the back—all with the same message. He should eat lots to keep up his strength. Sure, it was all in good fun, but the sly innuendo wore thin after a while.

  Worst of all, Emma’s win had called attention to them. Everyone in the whole damn resort would recognize their faces. It was difficult to skulk around on an investigation when everyone was busy snickering.

  “What are you going to do with a year’s supply of condoms anyway?”

  “Use them,” Emma said sweetly.

  Jack’s fists clenched at his sides, and he felt as if someone had kicked him in the gut. The thought of Emma using the condoms with another man fueled his temper—not that using them with him was a better proposition. This afternoon had been a mistake. He wasn’t going to touch her again. She was commitment through and through. He was free and easy—a different species of fish altogether.

  Jack opened the restaurant door for Emma and stood back as she sashayed into the night air in her short black dress, which showed far too much skin for his liking. Gritting his teeth, he stalked after her. Colored lights lit both sides of the path that wound between lush plantings of native ferns and trees and strategically placed rock carvings.

  In the bush on the far side of the resort, a lone morepork cried. Its mournful call echoed through the still night. Jack heard the rustle of small creatures scurrying for cover from the owl. Waves rolled into the shore interspersed by laughing and shouting from the couples still celebrating in the bar after the gala dinner.

  Even though it was almost one in the morning, he’d have to hang with Emma to give everyone time to settle in for the night. It was either that or hit the bar. He shot a glance at his partner. Temptation shot through him, fast and hard. He wanted her. Perhaps a drink would be the better option.

  “Emma, wait up.”

  She paused and turned to look at him. That bloody box of condoms taunted him without mercy. “I’m going to the bar to check out who’s there. I want to see if the staff will talk to me.”

  “Should I come?”

  Yes, please. Preferably with me inside your tight pussy. “No!” he snapped, appalled at his wayward thoughts. Bloody hell, he couldn’t blame his dragon. That was the last thing he needed—to smell her flowery scent and hear each hitch of her breath. He needed sex tonight. That was the only way he could exert control over the taniwha and continue to work with Emma. “I’ll escort you to our room and head back to the bar.”

  “I could help.”

  “I thought you’d agreed to follow my orders?”

  “Hmmm.” She had the audacity to raise one shapely eyebrow and let the corners of her mouth drift upward in the beginnings of a smile.

  Jack grabbed her by the elbow and hustled her on their way. Two minutes later, he pulled a keycard out of his pocket and slid it into the door. He slipped the keycard into the wall socket and a single light came on, spotlighting the bed. The rich burgundy cover gleamed, decadent and suggestive of sex.

  Jack froze. If he were a superstitious man, he’d think someone was trying to tell him something.

  Condoms.

  Bed.

  Emma.

  The ingredients were present. All he needed to do was stop fighting and go with the flow.

  Then he heard a scraping noise, soft and out of place. He prowled into the center of the floor space, trying to isolate where the vibration had originated.

  Emma sat on the corner of the bed and bent to slip off her strappy black shoes. The soft sigh she made when she wriggled her toes pulled his cock tight and tented his black trousers.

  Surreptitiously, he searched the walls and contents for anything out of place or remotely suspicious. Feet shuffled and it sounded as if someone fidgeted. Jack cocked his head, listening for the slightest vibration but couldn’t pinpoint the sound with accuracy. It came from near the in-room bar. Nothing seemed disturbed yet the back of his neck prickled. He snarled beneath his breath, allowing his taniwha senses free rein or as much as he could with a human nearby. Gradually, he filtered out the small sounds made by Emma as she removed her jacket and kicked her shoes out of the way. He sauntered over to the minibar.

  “Want a drink?” Jack continued to scan the area, his gaze skimming a large mirror hanging on the wall near the bar. Standing this close, two dark shapes were discernible to his acute vision. They were behind the mirror. He tensed and forced himself to relax. A two-way mirror directly in line with the bed.

  “No, drink for me, thanks. I thoug
ht you were going to the bar.”

  “Soon.” The distinct crackle of wrapping paper momentarily shifted his attention. “What are you doing?” To his critical ear, his voice sounded harsh and a touch defensive.

  Damn, he was losing control of this assignment and he loathed the feeling. Sex dominated his thoughts. He winged a glare at the mirror—a bloody two-way one to complicate their case. Aware his famed control was starting to fray, he took a deep breath and fixed himself a whiskey. He tipped back his head and let the alcohol slide down his throat. Although the peaty flavor tasted good, the burn didn’t do a thing to soothe his irritation.

  The two watchers remained, and Jack couldn’t decide whether they’d lucked out and scored a room specially set up for voyeurs, or if their cover was blown and they were under surveillance for more sinister reasons.

  He poured another finger of whiskey and stared into the amber depths in broody silence.

  “There are six different types of condoms in here along with two types of lubricant.” Emma sounded breathless as if she expected him to respond.

  And dammit all—he wanted to react.

  Perhaps that was the solution. They could reassure the voyeurs by having hot, sweaty sex. Just one bout, he told himself. He glanced at Emma and found her still exploring the contents of her package. She’d tried to do it before but he hadn’t given her the opportunity. His mind grouped sex and Emma in the same sentence too often as it was without looking at visual props.

  “Ohhh.” Her small breathy sigh snared his attention, mainly because it reminded him of sex. But then, everything reminded him of the act when it involved Emma.

  “Do people really use these?” she asked, extending something in her palm for him to see.

  Two pastel-colored hearts lay in her palm. Each bore a suggestion.

  Lick my pussy.

  Suck my cock.

  His taniwha roared at him to grab her, to hammer into her body until they were both satisfied. Jack forced himself to glance away and study the dregs of whiskey in his glass.

  Sex with Emma. He flirted with the idea and the possible repercussions. His dragon clawed for sexual appeasement, and Jack knew he’d have to give in or shift and scare the living daylights out of Emma and their silent watchers.

  George Taniwha Investigators and Security couldn’t afford the publicity—that was a given. The hand holding his glass started to itch insistently. When he glanced down, Jack saw the sheen of forming scales. That settled his dilemma.

  They’d have sex.

  He was a professional. He could do this—remain detached and get the job done. Sex was only an exchange of bodily fluids.

  Decision made, he swallowed the last mouthful of whiskey and placed the glass on the bar top with a decisive click. His hands went to the buttons on his shirt. He unfastened them rapidly, shrugged from the blue cotton shirt and tossed it aside. He stepped out of his black trousers and chucked them in the direction of his shirt.

  “What are you doing?”

  Not a shred of fear showed in her expression. A good thing, although he never employed force. He’d show her the goods and gauge her reaction. Then, he’d give her one last chance to say no.

  Jack slid his fingers under the elastic band of his black boxer-briefs. A growl of excitement escaped the taniwha.

  Emma’s eyes widened at the low, rumbling growl. He pushed the boxers over his fully erect shaft. Her mouth dropped open as she continued to stare. At least she hadn’t screamed and run from the room.

  Jack sauntered closer to the bed. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  The ambiance throbbed with silence. Even the two watchers had stopped their fidgeting to concentrate on the action in the bedroom. Jack hoped they were enjoying the view of his bare arse.

  Emma licked her lips. “Ah, getting ready for bed?”

  “Full marks for the lady,” he said in a husky voice. Damn if this striptease wasn’t winding him tighter than a spring. “Thought we might use some of those condoms you won.”

  “Condoms?” Emma cast a nervous glance at his erect cock then at the box full of condoms. She plucked a bright orange packet from the box and waved it in the air. “Do they make them big enough to cover you?”

  “It will fit with no problem.” He came to a halt in front of her.

  She eyed his cock with misgiving, staring so hard he twitched. “But will you fit?” she blurted.

  For the first time in longer than he could remember, Jack wanted to laugh about sex. Grinning, he leaned over and cupped her face in his hands. “I promise that by the time I’ve finished with you we’ll fit perfectly.”

  Emma had no idea what made Jack change his mind. He’d refused her earlier advances, but she wasn’t about to object now that he was naked and sporting an impressive hard-on. She’d fantasized about this moment for months. Heck, at least a year.

  She stood, ready to unzip her dress and shimmy free in case he changed his mind. If he displayed a hint of indecision, she’d jump him.

  “Wait.”

  Emma froze, every muscle tensed to spring. Wait, as in stop, he didn’t want to do this? She lifted her head, trying to read his expression. Yeah, right. A book with blank pages contained more information.

  “I want to undress you.”

  “Oh.” Emma nibbled her bottom lip while she considered this development then gave a decisive nod. He might as well see all of her straight off. Her body wasn’t catwalk-model material, but with her height she’d look stupid with tiny bones and no padding. Emma hated pretense. “All right.”

  “With the light on,” he added with distinct challenge.

  In answer, Emma turned her back to present the zipper of her little black dress. Her heart raced while she waited for the first step in her master plan to commence. She wanted to grab. She wanted to touch the dragon tattoo on his biceps to discover if it was still hot to the touch. She wanted to kiss and fondle. But she did none of these things in case he backpedaled and changed his mind.

  The zipper whined downward. No fumbling or cursing, just masculine competence that boded well for the actual act. The black fabric slithered downward and caught on her hips until he maneuvered the material safely over the obstruction. Before Emma could move, he swung her off her feet and dropped her on the bed. She hadn’t even stopped bouncing when he was on her, pressing her into the mattress.

  “You need to wear more clothes,” he muttered, running his hands around her naked breasts.

  “Frightened I’ll catch cold?” God, his hands felt good on her bare skin, his abrasive touch intoxicating.

  “I’m going to wonder each time I see you.” He plucked at one nipple, hard enough that it should have hurt. Instead, the sensation traveled straight to her achy clit. Emma arched her back, silently pleading for him to do it again. “Think about your lingerie or lack of underwear.”

  Instead of repeating the nipple tweak, he kissed a trail across her rib cage, pausing to circle his tongue around her belly button. Emma groaned, a sudden mass of writhing nerves. He could do whatever he wanted when each caress went straight to her head—each stroke powerful and invigorating. The only thing that might feel better, well, she’d exert her rights to explore him later.

  “No bra,” he whispered, his warmth breath feathering across her lower belly. “Panties so brief I don’t know why you bothered.” His tongue traced the lacy elastic band that held her panties in place, across her lower abdomen then from her hip to inner thigh. “And then there’s the stockings. Fuck, they’re hot.”

  “I…um.” She was dying here, so close to losing her cool. She stirred restlessly, the urge to beg him to rip off her panties and lick her, trembling on the tip of her tongue.

  As if he’d read her mind, Jack tugged them down her legs, but left the thigh-high stockings where they were. His fingers felt callused on her legs and feet, even through the sheer stockings, as he edged the lacy material away. He reared up to a kneeling position beside her, parted her legs and looked his fi
ll.

  “Yeah,” he murmured. “Don’t move an inch. So pretty.” He skimmed a finger across her labia.

  Emma felt the flush of arousal that swept from her head to the tips of her pink toes. She felt wanton. She felt beautiful and feminine. And she wanted him desperately.

  He grabbed a fistful of condoms from the box that still lay on the corner of the bed and dumped them on the wooden bedside cabinet before dropping the rest on the floor near the head of the bed. The plastic wrapping crackled as he opened the packet. Emma watched with fascination as he rolled the bright orange condom onto his penis. She licked her lips and fought the urge to fidget even as moisture gathered between her legs. He hadn’t done much more than finger her and she was a quivering mass of desire.

  Jack’s hand slid in a long, luxurious stroke down her chest and over her belly, a trail of acute awareness prickling in his wake. A quick inhalation did nothing to counteract her sudden breathlessness. She swallowed, praying her heart didn’t flutter right out of her chest as he drew a finger along her dew-slick cleft. He paused to circle her clit, and Emma started, the zing of excitement almost too much to bear. Jeesh. Was there such a thing as female premature orgasm? Because if she wasn’t careful, it was going to happen to her. A tremor took her, and she strained upward to gain more pressure, her gaze darting to his impassive expression. Why was the man dithering? Did he want a diagram? A set of instructions?

  “You’re wet for me,” he murmured.

  Well, duh. That was obvious. No point in denying she wanted him. “Yes, of course.”

  He parted her legs even farther and moved into the space between. “But not wet enough. Can’t wait any longer,” he muttered almost to himself. Taking his cock in one hand, he rubbed it across the mouth of her pussy, coating the tip of his shaft in her juices.

  Her mouth dried, her senses working overtime. His scent filled each quick breath. His touch fueled her desire. The choppiness of her breathing was almost deafening. With a pounding heart, she registered everything and craved even more.

  Reaching over her, he grabbed a container of lubricant from the box. He broke the seal and pumped the bottle several times until a colorless gel squirted into the palm of his hand. With a soft grunt, he smoothed the gel in rough strokes along her cleft. Coolness hit her first, tickling and bringing a yelp, laughter, then warmth, intense and pleasurable as the lubricant coated her clitoris and pussy. Jack smoothed the excess along his erection. He probed her cleft, igniting nerve-endings until her breath caught. One finger slide into her channel, and she swallowed a whimper.