by Jory Strong
A sharp tug on the chain served as a reprimand, snapping her back to the master she belonged to. Did she truly believe the blond could pleasure her as thoroughly as he could? She’d soon learn there was no comparison between a human male and a dragon male.
It had taken him decades to come to appreciate the comfort of fine clothing against his skin, tailor-made garments that provided a sensory experience, though he’d never learned to tolerate boxers or briefs or any manner of restraint when it came to his cock and testicles.
He unzipped and his cock sprang free. It pulled away from his body, knowing where it belonged and desperate to get there as her tongue darted out to wet a delectable mouth.
She ate him with her eyes and he didn’t demand that she concentrate on the small triangle of floor between the chair and where she knelt with his legs on either side of her. Arousal glistened on the tip of his cock head, like nectar meant to draw a mate’s lips when he was too lazy to command it.
Need pulsed through the swollen organ in time with his heartbeat. He clamped a fist around his shaft, stroked the length of it, using the chain to send a flare of sensation through her breasts that he hoped matched the heat scorching through his cock.
He nearly panted each time the edge of his hand contacted the still-hidden twin ridges meant to stimulate a female dragon into ovulating. Heat fanned through his body. A hunger that would only temporarily be appeased each time he came inside his mate, or marked her skin with the hot wash of his seed.
Jubal could feel others watching them. He knew if he looked up he would find the blond staring, and that knowledge intensified the flames of possessiveness even as it made him more determined to eradicate Summer’s desire for any other, to punish her in a way that would drive the message home. From now on, he was the only male worthy of her attention—and he claimed all of it.
He continued to stroke himself though it was torturous ecstasy to have her only inches away, trembling with the desire to succor him with the wet heat of her mouth and the pull of her lips. Her small whimpers were driving him mad, as was the glistening arousal on the inside of her thighs.
“Please, Master,” she whispered. “Let me attend to your needs.”
“You?” He let her hear the growl in his voice. “A slave whose desire is already in question? A slave whose attention wanders to another?”
Chapter Three
Summer flinched. Wariness morphed to trepidation and her heart slammed against her chest.
Her gaze flicked from the hand wrapped around his erection to the one holding the silver chain. A shiver took her, uncontrolled at seeing the dragon ring.
How had she missed it? A slight tug, sending painful pleasure screaming from nipples to clit, answered the question.
Need had blinded her even to the possibility that he might be the very thing Kei warned her about. No. Please no. Let the ring just be a piece of jewelry of no significance, and the treasure Nisien sought a submissive to enjoy for the evening.
A tug delivered a sharper ache, this one spearing through her stomach and making her cunt clench as it reminded her she hadn’t yet responded to his charge.
She couldn’t defend herself against the accusation that her attention had wandered, but against his other claim…
He couldn’t really believe her desire was in question, not with arousal streaming from her slit and her clit emerging, stiffened because of his attention and craving more of it.
“I desire no other but you, Master.”
He leaned in aggressively, his nearness swamping her with heat and exotic scent, trapping her in coils of need.
“Let me prove the honesty of my desire for you,” she whispered.
“Honesty?”
His voice promised she’d have no secrets by the time he was done with her.
She couldn’t let that happen. Trust couldn’t extend beyond her body, at least not tonight. She dared to place her hands on his thighs. The muscles were smooth steel beneath his trousers.
Unbidden, the image of him in dragon form filled her mind. A silver-and-gold beast with sapphire eyes crouched on a high rocky ledge, ready to leap in a powerful, merciless assault, ready to swoop down on his female and cover her, thrust into her.
She shivered, turned on by the image of that ultimate domination. Once Kei had his star ball back…
The only thing of value she owned was herself.
She didn’t fear Jubal, didn’t fear belonging to him if he was a dragon, if myth held reality when it came to their possessiveness. He would be the ultimate master.
Desire pulsed between them, tightening elegant masculine features into a predatory expression. He radiated power, a sensual menace that had her womb fluttering and more blood flowing to her labia and clit.
Erotic images of dragons and human women, artwork she’d seen at a fantasy convention that she’d gone to with a friend and internalized without being conscious of it, drifted to the surface, becoming Jubal and her. If he hadn’t ordered her thighs open, she would have squeezed them together, capturing heat and throbbing need.
Her gaze returned to his cock. Another bead of arousal escaped the slit in its head. She wet her lips, craving his taste as thoroughly as his touch.
His fingers clamped on his erection and she took pride in the reaction, in the knowledge that, displeased or not, he wanted her. She slid her hands upward on his thighs, anticipating the weight of his balls, the soft velvet of his cock, the heated spiciness of him coating her tongue.
“Stop.” Terse command issued on a low growl. “Look at my face.”
She obeyed, anxious stillness filling her.
He closed more of the distance between them. Their breaths mingled. Their scents. The barest movement and their lips would touch.
She wanted it desperately. With a hunger made fiercer because he’d not yet covered her mouth and demanded entry with the thrust of his tongue.
“Who is he to you?” Jubal asked, softly enough so his words didn’t carry beyond the two of them.
The slam of her heartbeat against her chest quickened, growing in volume so she wouldn’t be surprised if he heard it. Lying wasn’t an option, not to this man she wanted for a master despite knowing he might not be human.
“He’s nothing. A nobody.” Simple truth held deeply so it resonated, though neither his expression nor the tight grip on the chain eased.
“Yet you came here because of him.”
“Yes.”
“You would have called him Master had I not arrived to stake my claim.”
Heart and soul curled into a trembling ball inside her. “Not Master.” Not unless there was no avoiding it in order to recover the star ball. “I’d call him Sir,” she whispered, hoping the distinction would matter to Jubal even as she fought the urge to assure herself that Miles hadn’t left the club.
She dared move her hand on Jubal’s thighs again, hoping to draw his attention back to his hardened cock and away from the subject of Miles. “You’re the only one I want to call Master. Let me ease you.”
“No.” Denial and rebuke at the same time.
She whimpered when he released the chain to tuck his cock back into his trousers, locking it away from her with the tug of a zipper.
“He’s nothing,” she repeated, pleading tones in her voice, for understanding, for patience though she didn’t volunteer anything else.
“So you’ll leave now? Meet at another club if you refuse to get in a car alone with me or take this private?”
She could practically feel him willing her to choose the latter. Knew her answer would only make things worse.
“No,” she whispered.
His nostrils flared with displeasure.
“Stand,” Jubal said on a low growl, burned by his mate’s obvious lack of trust and determined to assure himself that he had all her attention before he lost himself in the pleasure of her mouth.
She obeyed, the picture of sultry submission, though the illusion of it was shattered the instant he ord
ered her to turn and he caught her subtle scanning of the play area.
Did she think him blind? Had their conversation made no impression?
Jubal’s jaw clenched and in his mind the grind of teeth sounded like the shifting of earth along a fault line. By the Great Shared Ancestor, she tested his patience. He held his breath, not daring to exhale for fear a gout of flame would be caught by those paid to closely monitor what went on inside the club as a safety precaution.
He reached into the bag and removed a weight to add to the clamp chain. Standing, he gripped her neck, his hand just above the collar-like necklace he wanted to rip from her body. He told himself he touched her only to ratchet up Summer’s anxiety as to what lay in store, and not because he craved the contact, not because he needed to demonstrate to some human male that she belonged to him.
He guided her to a square torso-length bondage table and stopped next to it. “Lie down. On your back.”
She obeyed, knees bent, anticipating what he would require of her with feet touched close to her buttocks and thighs splayed. The sight of her swollen folds and glistening slit trapped his gaze, very nearly drawing his mouth to her pussy. He wanted to shove his tongue into her tight slit and fuck her with it until she screamed and bathed him in her orgasm.
His cock spasmed and more of the magic restricting its size and appearance fell away. She was dangerous to his control. Worse, while she held him with the sight of her beautifully darkened cunt, she might very well be looking for the human male.
The thought freed him from her carnal snare. It was time for his mate to care only about the male who’d claimed her for his own.
He bound her wrists at her sides, then placed Velcro cuffs around her thighs before pushing them toward her shoulders and clipping them in that position, leaving her exposed and vulnerable, tethering her so she could be safely explored.
The traces of erotic fear flickering in the depths of her eyes fed primitive desires, to have his female at his mercy though he was incapable of harming her, despite being very capable of hurting her in a way that brought pleasure and deepened trust.
Her helplessness aided in his battle to control the magic, lest it give way completely and he take his first form in this human realm. Not since he was a fledgling had he struggled so with the very basics.
His. Satisfaction surged through him. Her gaze was on him, a pleading for her master’s touch.
“Who do you belong to?”
“You, Master.”
He placed his hands on her thighs and felt her strain to lift her buttocks off the table, as if to bring her pussy closer to his mouth. He stroked satin-smooth skin, breathed deeply, wanting to wallow in the scent and taste of his mate’s body.
Her labia grew more flushed, darkened in color. She wore a simple piece of jewelry in her clitoris hood as well as in her navel and nipples. In the future he would replace all of them with pieces of his own choosing, something holding chips of sapphire to match that in his ring.
Mine. It resonated throughout him, claiming every cell, every intention, all of his being. And he would accept no less than total surrender from her, total trust.
“You will not come until I give you permission to do so.”
Her thighs quivered beneath his hands. “Yes, Master.”
Arousal left her exposed slit in a wet trail that slid across her anus. He stared at that dark hole, contemplated retrieving a plug from the bag then just as quickly discarded the idea for the moment, possibly the night, given the intensity of his desire to penetrate every orifice with his cock first before using a substitute.
Now that he had her bound, he found it possible to stave off baser desires and the rush to satisfy them, to rein in a dragon’s instinct to pounce. He could savor her, and in the process assure himself he had her complete and utter attention.
His hands left her thighs and pleasure purred through him at her whimpered protest. Moving closer, he leaned over her, bracing himself against the table with palms placed on either side of her head.
The position allowed her to feel the brush of his clothing against her naked skin, a reminder of her vulnerability and his control. “You are beautiful,” he murmured, lips only inches away from hers. His satisfaction deepened at the way her breath caught, her eyes dilating as she strained upward. “But I have a feeling you aren’t, at heart, very obedient.”
“I am,” she whispered, tensing beneath him in case he chose to punish her for either speaking or contradicting him.
There were those who preferred their submissives to remain quiet, and perhaps he would be wise to demand it of her because he was already far too enthralled by his mate. But he didn’t want complete silence, not when he drank in every sound she made.
“I have not seen much evidence of it so far.”
He closed the small distance, swallowing her little cry of pleasure with the touch of his lips to hers, a light press so she was forced to strain against the bindings in order to gain her master’s kiss.
He moaned at the first taste of her, at how she obviously struggled not to thrust her tongue against his, but to wait for him to initiate the twine and rub, the sensual mimicking of a cock’s penetration.
Her breasts, hard-capped with taut nipples, jewelry and clamps, brushed against his shirt. He felt her jerk at the contact, could well imagine the fiery streaks tearing through her abdomen to reach her clit. She whimpered, yet with each subtle movement of his body she strained upward, nipples tight against his chest in a bid for attention.
He made her wait, as he’d waited centuries to find her, his kisses a slow, thorough exploration rather than aggressive plundering.
He captured her bottom lip, sucked along its length before letting her feel the hint of teeth, the promise of a bite that would soon mark her skin—not that he needed such a primitive thing for other dragons to know she belonged to him. They’d scent him on her, but more importantly, would read the truth of it in her body’s response to him.
“Please,” she begged prettily, daring a quick dart of her tongue into his mouth.
Her boldness suited him. In the world she would soon be made aware of, strength had always been valued.
“Please what?” Beloved.
Her tongue plunged into his mouth, demanding this time, and he straightened away from her. It was far too soon to allow the action to go unpunished.
“I’m sorry, Master.”
Sorry for the loss of contact, that he believed, but not the act itself. His gaze fell on the offending locket and it was he who surreptitiously scanned the area and found the blond close by, positioned where Summer couldn’t see him.
Fire raced up Jubal’s throat. The possibility of it erupting had him leaning forward, one hand capturing the clamp chain as the other braced against the bondage table to support him as his lips took hers in a pour of dragon’s flame, the aggressive thrust of his tongue matched to tugs on the nipple clamps.
Summer’s hips jerked violently. God, it felt so good. Pleasure and pain. Scorching heat and an intensity of sensation that made her feel alive in a way nothing else could, even riding a barrel wave.
Arousal gushed from her slit and need pulsed through her clit. She strained against the restraints, muscles already burning. The helplessness turning her on. The painful pleasure centered in her nipples and pulsing downward to her cunt forcing her inward, driving extraneous cares from her thoughts and stripping away layers of civilization until she became primitive woman, a sensual, sexual being in rut and only interested in the strongest, fiercest male, the one who would accept nothing less than total surrender.
She cared only about Jubal’s touch, about staving off her release until he ordered her to come. About obeying and pleasing him.
She cried in protest when his lips left hers, only to shiver in anticipation when they touched her belly, delivering heated kisses and sucking bites.
Please. Please. Please. It was silent entreaty accompanied by harsh breath.
His tongue swept
out, toying with the navel jewelry before his lips closed on it, giving a teasing tug then moving lower. His sounds of approval resembling contented rumbles, reminding her of what she suspected, that he was a dragon, and heightening her craving for him instead of creating fear.
He nuzzled, inhaled, licked the outer skin of her labia, avoiding her clit and slit. She grew wetter, more engorged, needier for the release of orgasm.
Others had gathered. But for once, knowing they watched, that they enjoyed how aroused her master could make her didn’t matter, didn’t add to her desire. She needed only him, wanted only to give him everything, her heart, her soul, her body, her trust, her future.
The thought dragged her upward with a reminder of Kei, pulled her from the riptide of ecstasy like a ring thrown to someone caught in an ocean undertow. Too much time had passed since she’d seen Miles and she didn’t know how long he’d been there. There were no guarantees he meant to stay hours.
She closed her eyes, torn between willing Jubal to finish the scene so she could find some way to approach Miles and get the star ball, and caring only about pleasing Jubal, about giving herself over to the fantasy that he might just be the man for her.
He touched some deep chord inside her so it resonated, thrummed with a single word. His. She was his, his, his. Yet even now, his cousin—if they were truly dragons—might be closing in on Miles.
Whoever had pointed Miles at Kei, she didn’t believe it was Jubal. But she couldn’t discount the threat he posed, a threat that sounded in his growled, “Open your eyes.” As if he’d sensed her thoughts overriding the physical sensations he’d created inside her.
And they had. A life was at stake. A friend might die.
She complied. Gaze snapping to Jubal’s, a shiver going through her at the displeasure in his eyes.
Fear surged to the fore, that he’d end this here and now, and that fear had nothing to do with being forced back to the lobby. Tears welled. A howl tore through her, frustration and anguish at having met him tonight when the odds seemed stacked against them.