A Lair So Sinful

by Zoey Ellis

  Before she had time to ponder on any of it, the dragorai’s other hand scooped her up by her bottom and pulled her forward, pressing her slit against his thickness. It felt just as hard as it looked, though its ridges sent shivers through her as it rubbed against her folds.

  The dragorai pulled her face forward until her lips almost touched his. “Kiss me.”

  I’mya wrenched her head away, growling in annoyance she had even kissed him before. That wasn’t supposed to have happened.

  The dragorai laughed, obviously delighted by her reaction, which confused I’mya immensely.

  Grabbing her hips, he rolled her up and down his length, caressing her bundle of pleasure with the ridges on his length until the hunger for more spread up her core and gripped her. At some point, she took over. Breathing heavily as she gyrated against him, her nipples were hard and her slick was flowing.

  “Your slick is deliciously scented,” he muttered. But he wasn’t even looking at her, he was looking between them, and I’mya was embarrassed by how much slick she was producing. It lathered his cock, drenched his pants and even his tunic.

  But she couldn’t stop. Planting her feet on each side of him, she grabbed his shoulders as she moved faster. The dragorai groaned as he watched her, his hand reaching up to squeeze her breasts, her stomach, her thighs, and the pockets of fat around her waist. It only added to her arousal.

  Suddenly his cock moved, its head breeching her entrance. I’mya froze, registering the prickles of discomfort, but it was already too late. She lowered onto it slowly, hissing at the sharp pain of the stretch from his girth. When she stopped, the dragorai leaned forward and captured a nipple in his mouth, flicking it with his tongue until it zinged pleasure around her body. When he moved to her other breast, I’mya sighed, lowering herself farther down on him until he completely filled her.

  There was something strangely primal about being impaled so deeply. I’mya slowly worked up and down his length, absorbing both the pain of the stretch and the carnal hunger that each stroke invoked.

  The dragorai straightened and watched her as she began to ride him in earnest, her hips working to a rhythm that heightened the stormy, jagged pleasure shooting through her core. I’mya moaned as the feeling overwhelmed her, the depth, the stretch, the scent of him—all of it was so visceral, so raw and so erotic that she couldn’t help but cling on to the sensations.

  As she built up speed, the dragorai growled into her ear and grabbed her ass, pulling her down on him harder, rougher, and with each slam the pleasure sharpened with a tinge of accompanying pain. I’mya gasped, smothered with the intensity of it. How could anything be this good, this powerful? Interlocking her fingers behind his neck, she sought more, slammed herself down onto him until the sloppy, frantic slaps of their coupling, his grunts, and her whimpers were all she could hear.

  The bliss of it swept all thoughts from her mind. In that moment, she did not know who or where she was—the only thing she knew was pleasure.

  A crescendo rose similar to what she experienced before, except this one was mercilessly violent. Her toes curled, her fingers dug into the back of his neck, her breath hitched, her whole body trembled. When the peak finally claimed her, searing through every nerve in her body, she convulsed on the dragorai’s cock, slamming herself down erratically as she cried out, wild and out of control.

  Panting, I’mya slumped forward, resting on the dragorai’s chest as his hand on her ass continued to work her on his cock. I’mya shivered and twitched as the feel of her climax lengthened, each continued stroke sending throbbing beams of devastation through her.

  When he found his release, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pummeled erratically her into her, his lips finding her nipple again to bite down on. I’mya cried out, but it was with relish. His animalistic hunger sent goosebumps scattering all over her skin and she reveled it.

  With his last slam, the large bulbous base of his cock forced itself into her tight channel, and they both stilled. The dragorai breathed heavily, his teeth still around her nipple as they basked in being locked together so intimately.

  The stretch was incredible. It was as if the bliss of her climax had muted and elongated into an abyss of peace. All she wanted to do was relax into the sensation. She settled onto the dragorai’s chest to do just that, but as she did memories arose once again, snapping through her mind in a quick instant.

  “You think you’re the only one who suffered!” The curly-haired man looked furious. “There is an entire realm out there suffering.” A surge of defiance rose in her.

  “I know that better than you,” she spat. “You sit in here and hide while people die out there. Do not lecture me on suffering!”

  The dark-haired man paused his pacing, turning to her, his eyes vicious. “You have no idea what true suffering is.”

  Running through the city, out of breath, dodging explosions that turned air into black rock. Voices screamed at her from the far right, but they didn’t understand. If they weren’t careful, they’d lead the soldiers straight to the faction’s home base.

  Lying on soiled bedding in the secured corner tucked into an alleyway that sat between two buildings, the two of them tried to get comfortable. “Do you think they’ll find us?” I’yala asked. I’mya smiled back at her, trying to hide the worry she felt. “They won’t.” She said that with such determination that the girl nodded and smiled, relaxing into her arms as she closed her eyes to sleep. I’mya watched her, staying awake until I’yala drifted off and then she kept her eyes open for when the soldiers entered the alleyway. They would most certainly do so in the next few minutes, and when they did, it was either kill or be killed.

  The memories faded, but the strong feelings that accompanied them faded slower. I’mya opened her eyes as she examined the emotions. Fear, determination, anger, worry, indignation, and dedication. These memories were proving to be more confusing than before. Was the man with black curls friend or foe? What was her affiliation with him? How old were some of these memories? And the girl.. why did she lie to her? I’mya needed more.

  Too late she realized the dragorai was watching her. Pulling her attention back to her situation, she peered between them, examining what had happened. The answer fell into her mind as she looked at her body flush with his. He had knotted her. That was what caused the divine stretch that still soothed and settled her. She reached down to touch their joining, but the dragorai grabbed her hand, holding her gaze as he slowly drew her fingers up to his lips.

  The fieriness in his eyes as he sucked on her fingers made her shiver, and she watched him, mesmerized.

  Their gaze held until he pulled her forward until their lips were close again. Then he waited.

  He wanted her to kiss him again.

  I’mya almost snorted. She wasn’t going to be as foolish as that again. Instead, she lowered her face and slowly rubbed her nose and cheeks over his rough beard. He broke into a low chuckle at her evasion, and she hid her face so he wouldn’t see her smile.

  Unfortunately, she found she enjoyed the prickling hair of his beard on her face. She was still rubbing him when his knot shrunk, and she yelped in surprise when he lifted her up, turned and threw her on the bed.

  This time he did not leave her to do anything. After tearing off his clothes, he spread her legs wide and entered her with one thrust. I’mya gasped, clenching in shock. He went deeper than before. But before she could adjust, he was pounding her into the bed, gripping her hips and her neck as he rammed his hips, plunging into her wet tightness. I’mya’s knees spread of their own accord, her hips lifted to meet him almost on their own. She didn’t have the power to do anything else. His brutal savagery captured her raw instincts, she had no choice but to submit.

  And it was magnificent.

  “I will teach you, but you must be willing to learn.” Black-curls stared at her, waiting for a response. “This takes effort—and it cannot be halfhearted.”

  I’mya held his eye. “I told y
ou I am willing to do whatever it takes. Just teach me.”

  “I’mya, look!” I’yala held up a large loaf of bread, her eyes shining with joy. I’mya’s mouth watered at the sight, but she asked calmly. “Where did you get it, I’yala? Please don’t tell me you traded with any of the other factions.”

  They quietly inched around the ember; jagged and imposing, it blocked most of the road, with only a sliver of a gap to squeeze through, but they had to get to the other side of the ember if they were to escape the other faction. The punishment for theft was severe wherever you went, but I’mya would be damned by the Seven if she was going to let anyone hurt I’yala. She was only eight, but no one cared about age much anymore. If she could speak and understand, then she could be held accountable.

  “Concentrate!” a thick voice bellowed. “You have to concentrate if you want to wield magic, I’mya!”

  “I’m trying! Stop shouting.”

  The magic faded. Black-curls glared at her and he shook his head before walking out of the potions room. I’mya cursed, kicking over a chair in her anger. She would rather throw knives than have to learn magic, but that was what she signed up for. Sighing, she followed Black-curls to apologize.

  I’mya had no idea how many hours passed or how many times she ended up impaled on the dragorai’s knot. All she knew was that by the time the sun peeked over the horizon of the mountain range, heralding a new day, she was exhausted.

  She lay on the bed, entangled with the sheets and the dragorai’s limbs, every single muscle in her body aching. Sweat drenched her, her own and the dragorai’s. Being sore she’d expected, but what she didn’t expect was the strange satisfaction settled in every part of her.

  Watching the approaching sun, she wondered when it would be time to leave. She was deathly tired, but no matter how tired she was, no matter how much she longed to drift off, she couldn’t sleep with the dragorai. It was impossible to trust him with the way he’d toyed with her, playing with her like a child infatuated with a new toy.

  Throughout the night he’d watched her intensely, observing how she reacted to the things he did. Of course, she was not proud of her behavior; like the way she’d pressed her nose into his chest, or any part of his skin really, to breathe in his scent. Or the way she spread her legs and aided his thrusts whenever he was between them. But that was all sexual activity. She couldn’t be blamed for seeking to find her situation enjoyable—she might as well.

  But she didn’t trust the way he watched her. What was he looking for? Was he using magic to monitor her in some way? It was unsettling.

  The main revelation that came from the night was the amount of memories that returned and the pattern with which they arrived. It usually happened during the knotting on his cock. It was a strange time between them; they were locked together so intimately, both in close proximity, touching and stroking, yet they did not speak or really interact at all. I’mya was glad for the return of her memories; she could use the time to analyze them and figure out who she was.

  By the end of the night, she pieced together that she had come from the North, although the information Dayatha had didn’t match up. From what she could tell, she had been born into one of the oldest factions and she’d been a scout, gathering information about other factions so they could secure food, shelter, weapons, and anything else to help them to live and defend against both attacks from the South and the dangerous magic that plagued the North. There were a couple of moments surrounding magic that she didn’t quite understand, but the picture was beginning to build.

  Another common reoccurring theme was her speaking to the man with dark hair. He was clearly an alpha, with a muscled body and an arrogant nature to prove it. And he seemed to be someone that her faction respected. He wasn’t the leader of it, but he had a lot of knowledge about the war and what was happening in the area she was in.

  In a few of the memories, the young girl, I’yala, appeared, and it was clear they had some kind of life together. I’mya was usually playing with her, reading her a story, reminding her of the rules—like not picking up random things that could be magical bombs, or not trusting anyone who was unfamiliar and could be from a different faction—and generally trying to keep her out of trouble. The girl was either her daughter or a family member, maybe a sister or a niece. But there was no indication where the girl was now. The only thing I’mya could think was that the girl, the man with black hair, or her faction had something to do why she was in the lair. Still, she had to also consider there wasn’t any indication that she hadn’t come here to be a kon’aya. Just because she lied to Dayatha about her background didn’t mean she came here with ulterior intentions. She could have simply applied to be part the lair to get away from that life.

  The dragorai turned, dead in his sleep, and I’mya slipped out from under his arm, and out of the bed. It was time to go. She wasn’t sure how long kon’ayas usually stayed, but she didn’t want to wake up with him—from her understanding that wasn’t something typical for a dragorai either. So she forced her shaky legs to take her to the door she came in through.

  Thankfully, when she opened it there was someone waiting for her—not a steward, but a blue-cloaked servant who had fallen asleep crouched on the ground, clearly only there waiting for her.

  She nudged him awake and sighed with relief as he allowed her to lean on him and he assisted her to the nearest washroom. After that, she headed back to the sleeping lounge where she sunk into a deep slumber, finally escaping the arrogant dragorai and the insane few hours they’d had together.

  5

  I’mya dropped down into the chair opposite Dayatha and scowled.

  From the glare of the sun, she could tell it was still early morning, and she felt like she hadn’t slept at all. Everything ached when she moved and her head pounded. “Why did you wake me?” she asked irritably.

  Dayatha leaned forward on the desk. “I’d like to know what happened.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You were in Master’s room all night.”

  I’mya shrugged. “So?”

  “So,” Dayatha said slowly. “What did you do?”

  “What do you mean, what did I do?” I’mya bristled. “I did what you told me to do.”

  “And he… made use of you all night?”

  “What else do you think I was doing in there?” I’mya said, her voice hardening. “You send me in there, unprepared, and with the risk of him harming me—because I used magic once and may have deceived you get here—and now you are asking me what I did! I did exactly what I was told. What more do you want?”

  Dayatha stared at her, her gaze narrowing as she looked over I’mya’s face. “I’m simply requesting to know what happened in the room. I ask all the kon’ayas. If his appetite is changing, I want to prepare the others.”

  “I have no idea about his appetite.” I’mya folded her arms and sat back in her chair. “I know that I ache all over and that I stink of him even though I’ve already washed twice. Anything else you want to know, I have nothing to tell you.”

  Dayatha stared at her, clearly annoyed at her answer. “Here.” She pushed a goblet of liquid across the table. “Drink this.”

  “What is it?”

  “Water, mixed with a little potion that will help the pain and also reduce your tiredness. You are very irritable.”

  I’mya scowled at her, but picked up the goblet. As soon as the water touched her lips, she realized how thirsty she was. She also realized she hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday afternoon.

  “When we went in there to fix the room, the bed had been used,” Dayatha said.

  “Yes.” I’mya looked at her confused.

  “I just wanted to check where you actually presented yourself?”

  “On the table,” I’mya said forcefully. “Like I was told. Why don’t you ask him if you don’t believe me?”

  “I do not question Master,” Dayatha said. “But your answers could help the next person who goes in
to see him. Thank you.” Her words were polite, but she looked like she wanted to roll her eyes. “If I have any other questions, I will be sure to ask you.”

  I’mya got up, wincing a little, before making her way to the door. Something was strange about Dayatha’s questions, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about it at that moment.

  However, by the time she was halfway back to the sleeping lounge, her mood suddenly lifted, no doubt due to Dayatha’s potion. She slowed down to think about her situation. There was no doubt that being with the dragorai helped her recall her memories. The only time she’d ever recalled her memories was when she was with him, and she’d had frequent recall last night, so if she wanted to access more of them, she needed to spend more time with him. Expelling a heavy sigh, she tried to manage the turbulence of mixed emotions churning through her at the idea of spending more time with him. As infuriating as he was, she couldn’t deny how addictive he was—and she struggled to control herself around him. His scent, the things he did…. that they did… it had all been so animalistic and instinctual, and that both frightened and thrilled her.

  Another thing becoming clearer was her strange connection to magic. She may have used magic once to create a shield against the dragon’s fire, but that didn’t explain how magic was somehow translating his language into words she could understand. If he wasn’t doing it, did it mean she was? And what had she been trying to do in her memories with the curly black-haired man? There was more to her connection with magic than there appeared to be, and there was no doubt it would benefit her to find out more.

  She couldn’t help but wonder if it was all worth it. What if she was putting herself in danger? Since he admitted not realizing how delicate she was, he didn’t try to hurt her the rest of the night, but did that mean he was never going to hurt her again? She didn’t know, and she couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t.