by Jane Jamison
She moved toward him, but he stopped her. One tug later and his shirt lay on the floor. His loafers went off, along with his slacks.
Trying to appear calm, she tried not to stare at his cock. His huge, almost deadly-looking cock. Yet staying calm was impossible.
When he went to his knees in front of her, she let out a sigh. Taking her wrists, he kept her arms to her sides as he bent forward. She gasped as his teeth took hold of her panties and pulled them away from her mons. Another gasp, filled with elation, escaped her as he tore her panties away.
He tightened his hold on her wrists, digging the golden bracelet into her skin. The pain, however, was soon forgotten when he pressed his face against her and dragged in a long, slow breath.
She dared to ask. “How do I smell?”
“Like a delicate flower.”
Her hands fisted as he put his tongue over her pussy lips. A moan pushed warm air against her smooth skin. Her body shook on the inside as he weakened her legs.
Pushing harder, he slipped his tongue between her folds and found her clit. Pounding, pounding, she wasn’t sure if it was her pulse or her throbbing clit sending the sensation rushing through her veins. She spread her legs apart, urging him to keep going.
He gave her what she wanted, adding teeth with tongue. Over and around her clit he went, in and out between her folds. Her body heated up as her skin did. And still, he didn’t turn her hands free.
Suddenly, the heat between her legs jumped to a higher degree. Her flesh felt as if it were actually on fire. Her juices warmed until she was sure she’d see rising steam. Pain seared into her as through she’d touched a hot stove. Yet the pain soon changed into pleasure.
She glanced down, her mouth parted, her eyes losing focus. As her body shuddered through the climax, she blinked not once but twice. Even then, she couldn’t believe she’d seen a small spark of flame rising from between her folds.
“Dalton—” Yet what could she asked? Did you set me on fire? The idea was ridiculous, but she couldn’t shake the impression that it was real.
He got to his feet and kissed her. Hard, lustful, needy. Like a man should kiss a woman he’d just made climax. “Get in the tub.”
She obeyed him without asking a question. Keeping her gaze on Dalton, she eased over the edge then lowered her body into the thousands of bubbles. The water was hot, drawing pink to her skin tone, but she didn’t care. Heat flared around her as the water covered her body, but that heat was nothing compared to the inferno burning inside her.
“Too hot?”
“Not hot enough. Get in.” She crooked a finger at him, bubbles trailing along her arm. The bracelet gleamed with wet highlights.
He reached into a nearby cabinet and brought out what she assumed was a very expensive bottle of wine along with two goblets. “Yes?”
“Definitely yes.” She could use the wine to calm her nerves. Yet what she really wanted was for him to get into the tub along with her. “Aren’t you getting in?”
“Are you impatient?”
Hell yes. Somehow, she managed to shrug.
He poured them each a glass, handed hers to her, and then stepped into the tub. The hot water didn’t seem to bother him. The water splashed around her, bubbles dancing as he settled in. He drained his glass and set it on the small shelf behind him. “Turn around.”
Holding her glass above the water and bubbles, she scooted around, trying to do so as gracefully as she could. He moved closer until her ass cheeks were set firmly against his crotch. His hard cock slipped into the crease of her buttocks. A moment later, he laid the soap-filled sponge against her back and started washing her.
She had to ask. Had to know where she stood. “Have you washed a lot of women’s backs?” Even though she hadn’t been able to resist asking, she still winced, thankful that at least he couldn’t see her face.
“Not as many as you might think.”
He was probably right there, considering she was thinking the number was in the low hundreds. Still, she had to push. “More than fifty?”
His laugh blew air over her wet skin. “You give me a lot more credit than I deserve.”
“More than thirty?”
“Peyton, you’re the first.”
“What?” She craned her neck around to see his face. “I’m the first? You’re kidding me. Come on. Tell me. I can handle the truth.”
His expression was as serious as she’d ever seen it. “On my word, you are the first.”
“Why?” She was happy and yet incredulous. How could any man like him not have brought women back to his house? “Am I just really dirty?”
Another chuckle from him brought a smile to her.
“No, Peyton. You’re the first woman I’ve ever brought to my home.”
She paused then slowly put her drink down. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Why not?”
He circled the sponge around the middle of her back. Had his cock grown harder? Longer?
“I never met anyone I felt was special enough. Until now.”
Until now? Wow.
The circles he made grew bigger, moving outward in slow, wonderful rings. She closed her eyes, enjoying the massage as much as his answer. He paused, added more soap, and took the sponge on a lower path over her hips and butt cheeks. His cock pressed harder against her. Just as she was sure he’d push his shaft against her tight hole, he leaned back a little and brought the sponge up to the small of her back.
The feel of his lips against her shoulders startled her, but she quickly settled down. All her senses had heightened, ready for his touch, his bite, his cock. He tugged her closer, putting her back to his hard, wet chest. Bubbles flowed over her shoulders to slide over her breasts. He worked in sinful motions, tantalizing her, going lower and lower.
She inhaled a quick breath when his fingers found her clit. At first, his rubbing was gentle. Then it picked up until he was moving harder, faster, churning the water around them. His hand cupped her breast. His thumb tortured her nipple. His breath tickled her wet ear.
“Dalton?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t stop.”
“Ever?”
“Ever.”
He put his mouth against her shoulder and raked his teeth down her neck, biting, sucking, nibbling.
She slipped her torso lower and spread her legs wider. If she could’ve, she would’ve wrapped her hand around his cock, but his touches had stolen her ability to move.
“Come for me, pretty one.”
As if he really did control her, she burst apart. Her body spasmed as her orgasm broke through her. Water sloshed and bubbles popped as she reached around to grab his hair. “Oh God.”
The agony and bliss of the climax struck her. Heat spread outward from her clit, spreading into her abdomen before flinging the last of it through her limbs. She cried out in amazement and joy and reached around, needing to see her own enthralled feeling on his face.
Yet what she saw didn’t make any sense.
Red eyes blinked then returned to green.
A spark—a flame?—erupted from between his lips then was gone.
If she could’ve twisted around, she would have. Instead, another rush of her climax struck her like the aftershocks of an earthquake.
“Peyton. Close your eyes.” Dalton picked her up and turned her around. In his hands, she weighed nothing. Pulling her against him, he nipped at her skin even as he lifted her again.
She’d only thought she’d been hot before. Yet the inferno stroking her now encompassed her entire body. Bringing her down, he sent water over the edge of the tub. His cock impaled her, driving deep inside her. A fiery explosion flamed to life once more inside her. She cried out but kept her eyes closed.
Water splashed as he kissed her, his tongue driving into her mouth, his hands buried in her wet hair. The kiss, however wonderful, didn’t last long as he brought his mouth to her nipple and bit down. Hard.
She laid ba
ck her head, arching her back to offer her other tit. He took it, giving it the same rough treatment before moving back and forth between her nipples. Digging her fingers into his shoulders, she did all she could do and simply hung on, letting him have his way.
Again and again, he drove into her. His muscles flexed as she rode him. His strong legs balanced hers as her juices mixed with the heat of his cock. For a moment, she would’ve sworn she felt the flash of fire against her inner thighs. He slid lower until only his massive chest and shoulders were above water.
Steam billowed around them, cocooning them in a warm blanket of mist. Bubbles burst at a frantic pace. The water popped and broke apart as though it were boiling. She was burning from the inside out and wouldn’t have been amazed to glance down at her pussy and see real flames coming from it.
Her body tightened, unbelievably heading toward another release. She laid her head back and screamed as he plunged into her again.
“Look at me, Peyton.”
Again, she did as he told her. And again, she saw a flash of red in his eyes.
“Keep your eyes on mine. Can you do that?” His voice was strained.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Remember. You’re safe with me.”
“I know.”
She stared at him, locking her gaze to his. And yet, from her peripheral vision, she saw fire. Had they knocked over a candle? Was the room on fire? And still, she looked directly into his eyes.
“I’m yours,” he whispered. “Be mine.”
From anyone else, it would’ve sounded like a child’s Valentine. From him, it was so much more. A promise, a declaration.
“I’m yours.” She couldn’t have said anything else.
When at last he broke his gaze from hers, he looked to the ceiling and let out a moan. The moan grew in power and deep, reverberating tones, changing into more of a growl. Still, she didn’t look away.
At least, not until another orgasm tore into her, taking every ounce of her strength. She screamed as it rolled from her. Suddenly, she collapsed against him.
* * * *
“Peyton, are you sure you’re all right?” Dalton knew she was fine. It wasn’t the first time a woman had found lovemaking with a dragon too intense. He couldn’t help but feel a little smug.
“I don’t know what happened to me.” Her hand slipped into his.
Dalton wanted to shout his happiness to everyone they passed in the hotel. Once Peyton had come to after their lovemaking, he’d held her and comforted her, assuring her that everything was fine. She’d been mortified that she’d lost consciousness, and he’d had to hide his joy. A human female having sex with a dragon often found the experience overwhelming.
His only remorse was in how he’d tried to take the bracelet off while she was still out. But he’d had to try. When he hadn’t been able to slide it off her wrist, he’d confirmed what he already knew. She was destined to be the Dragoness.
“Is Shirley in the suite?” If her friend wasn’t there, then he’d ask to stay with her. If she was, he’d stick around the elevator leading to her suite, keeping guard over her until Roman took his turn to watch her.
“Yes. I woke her up when I called.” Peyton turned toward him as they drew closer to the elevator. “I’d invite you up, but—”
“But you don’t want to throw me in Shirley’s face?” He grinned. It seemed he’d do a lot more grinning from now on. “Besides, I know how girls like to gossip about their dates. Be sure to tell her what a stud I am.”
“Wow. Modesty isn’t one of your problems, is it?” she joked. “And, by the way, the thing about gossiping is very sexist. If I didn’t like you so much, I’d slap you.”
“Just like a girl.” He ducked when she lifted her arm, pretending to slap him.
Pulling her to him, he held her close and sniffed, loving that his scent remained on her skin. “I’ll give you a call soon, okay?”
A flash of disappointment came and went across her face. “Okay.”
He placed a chaste kiss on her mouth, barely a brushing of his lips. If he did anything more, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to leave her. Using all his resolve, he forced himself to turn and walk away.
Once around the corner, he waited a minute then eased around to check and see if she was gone. He caught her as she was getting into the elevator. Wishing now that he’d gone with her, he leaned against the wall, watched the elevator ascend to the suite’s floor, and started his vigil.
His clan had done everything they could to keep the news of the bracelet’s theft under wraps, but it was ridiculous to think they could’ve kept it quiet. When the news had finally come out, they’d join the search. Keeping Peyton and her possession of the bracelet a secret would be difficult. Until they were ready to tell the others, he and Roman would take care of her. It was too soon to expose what she was meant to be. Before he and Roman could tell the clans about her, they had to tell her what they were.
Would she accept them as dragons? Would she believe them when they told her she was destined to become one of them? That, unlike other human females who mated with dragons, she alone would be able to shift? Would she be happy or frightened when she learned that she’d become the highest-ranking female dragon? More important than the others who had been born dragons? She’d become the Dragoness and rule over all the clans, bringing them together.
In the meantime, he and Roman would keep her safe. Those dragons who wanted the bracelet would do anything to get it. Anything, including cutting off her hand. Anything, including killing her.
What would they do if they realized who she was to become? Would some of them rejoice? Or would they, like the Dradian clan, do anything to stop the prophecy from becoming reality?
The only proof they had that the prophecy was real was the fact that they couldn’t get the bracelet off her wrist. But that and his feelings for her was enough proof.
He pulled his phone out and checked for messages. Hopefully, Roman wouldn’t be late. He was tired and needed a quick flight before grabbing a few hours of sleep.
The sound of the private elevator’s bell ringing jerked his head up. Peyton stepped back out into the lobby, glanced around, and then started walking toward the nearby gift shop. Dalton fell against the wall and slipped behind a potted plant. She entered the gift shop and purchased a bag of chips and a soda before walking back toward the elevator.
I guess the suite doesn’t have any junk food. I’ll have to mention it to Roman to have some brought up. Better that than to have her getting out of the suite without an escort.
He was just beginning to relax as she waited for the arrival of the elevator when a movement caught his attention. A large familiar man stared at her, his eyes flashing red. His gaze settled on the golden bracelet encircling her wrist.
Fuck. Gremkowsky. He sees the bracelet. Does he recognize it?
Not all dragons would know what the Bracelet of Atlantis looked like. He prayed Gremkowsky was one of those.
Brutus Gremkowsky was a member of the Black Dradian dragon clan. The Dradians were well known for their bad temperaments and lack of ethics. They’d do anything for money and power, including selling a priceless dragon relic on the black market. Of all the people to see Peyton, a Dradian dragon was the worst.
The elevator door opened, and as Peyton began to go inside, Gremkowsky pulled out a knife and lunged at her. Dalton reacted on instinct, prepared to do anything to save the woman he loved. If anyone else had been around to see him, he still would’ve done anything to protect her.
Shifting part way to bring out his dragon’s speed, he flew across the room, slamming into the other man. Gremkowsky didn’t have time to make a sound as Dalton rolled with him into the hallway adjacent to the elevator. The Dradian lost control of the knife. It skittered away and hit the wall.
They struggled, each landing solid blows against one another. Dalton knew he couldn’t kill Gremkowsky with his bare hands. Frantically, they fought, blood splattering against
the walls. Oblivious to any human who might stroll down the hallway toward the restrooms, the Dradian dragon began shifting.
Dalton had no choice. He had to stop Gremkowsky. If the dragon got away, every clan would know where the bracelet was. They’d come after Peyton with a vengeance.
Dalton slammed his fist into Gremkowsky’s face, loosening his grip long enough to roll away. He landed against the wall, pain digging into his back. Snatching up the knife, he lunged toward the shifting man and plunged the knife into his left eye.
Gremkowsky roared, bellowing his anger and pain. Dalton drove the knife deeper, going for the tender tissue of the brain. Only then would a dragon die. Gremkowsky’s right eye widened, horror replacing red-eyed fury as the blade reached its destination.
The Dradian stilled, his talons still dug into Dalton’s shoulders. Dalton held the knife steady and waited. At last it came. Exhaling his last breath, Gremkowsky shifted back into his human form and died.
He had to get out of there. The fact that no one had walked into the hallway was a small miracle. He wasn’t about to test his luck any further. Unhooking the man’s fingers from his shoulders, he pushed away and got to his feet.
Leaving a dragon, even one from another clan, wasn’t the right thing to do, but he had no choice. The Dradian clan leaders would be contacted once the humans took his body to the morgue.
Taking one last look toward the lobby, Dalton ran down the hallway. Halfway toward the back entrance, he saw a door marked Laundry and darted inside. Luck was with him as he found a clean white jacket used by room service waiters. He pulled it on, covering the blood on his shirt. Hopefully, his black jeans wouldn’t show the dark, wet blotches. Using another coat, he wiped blood from his face, neck, and hands.
Thank you, Lady Luck.
After a quick peek into the hallway, he darted out of the room then ran to the exit and burst into the open. He kept walking as fast as he could, putting distance between himself and the dead body. Pulling out his phone, he gave Roman a call. His friend picked up after the second ring.
“Yeah?”
Dalton skirted around to the front of the hotel. He didn’t want to stay near the hotel, especially since, from the scurrying of the hotel security and blare of sirens, he knew Gremkowsky’s body had already been discovered. But someone had to stay close to Peyton.