by Amanda Milo
Nalle’s hair is in braids held by beaded ends, which slap and clack together as she dodges and dives. I chase her around the cooking pot, past various things that matter not and don’t slow me down nearly enough to save her from me. She’s in soft-tanned clothing, the kind that requires no pants and is easy to tug up or tear off, whichever I feel I have patience for when I catch her.
When I catch her by her hair, Nalle squeals and drops to the floor.
I follow her down, grabbing her upper arm and keeping a firm hold on her braids, bringing her neck back, baring it for my teeth to nibble and taste her.
I straddle her rear, making her squeak when my staff pokes and prods at her. The only reason I’m not sack-deep in her body is because of her clothing skins. I release her hair and fist her leather skirt, ripping it above her hips.
“Wait, wait!” Nalle cries.
“Do you have a virgin’s barrier?” I manage to say through lips that don’t want to cooperate. I realize my teeth are bared as I crouch over my female, pinning her for our first breeding. Through a desperate struggle of willpower, I shift my gaze to our benches with her woven wool bedding.
We should mate there.
Nalle is no dragon female to enjoy the scrape of the cave floor on her belly as she’s stuffed full and ridden hard by my cock.
“I,” Nalle gulps a loud breath. “I took care of my ‘barrier’ by myself, years ago.”
“Good,” I purr, and squeeze her smooth and silken hind cheek hard enough to make her gasp and squirm. “Great scarlet moons, these hindquarters! I could sink my teeth into them.”
Nalle begins to pant.
“I’m going to carry you to the bedding platform,” I tell her. “If you escape from me, I’ll knock you down and rut you where we fall. Understood?”
Nalle’s neck goes limp, her cheek making a slapping, sticking sound as it connects with the floor. “Yes,” she gasps. “I understand you, Halki.”
And then her hips wriggle. It makes her bared ass cheeks jiggle.
“We aren’t going to make it to the bedding platform,” I utter hollowly. My hand dives under her hips and she cries out as my fingers search for her feminine pleasure bud.
My first attempt at this wasn’t successful, and I haven’t forgotten it. But Nalle knows me better now, she trusts me, and she’s giving off little signals in the hitching of her breaths, the rising of her hips, and her encouraging moans.
Of course, the concept of her having a main source of pleasure tucked somewhere isn’t entirely alien to me. Female dragons have a bud like this too. Just inside their vent, their pleasure-organ engorges with blood, it brings them unbelievable delight to have it teased, and it’s tucked into a spot that’s a little tricky to manipulate.
I do well enough at manipulating Nalle’s. I know this when she begins barking my name. Her body twitches all over, and I play with the soft, sensitive part of her until she’s trembling and bucking and leaking heat-scented wetness between her thighs.
When she gets to her knees to offer her back to me for mounting, I know she’s ready for breeding.
I catch her by the hair again, twist her neck to bare it for my teeth, and catch her by the nape in a stern hold.
“Halki!” she cries out as the blunt tip at the end of my shaft prods at her swollen folds. Each poke makes her breath hitch with excitement, and hearing her reaction makes me crazed.
My pelvis hugs the pillows of her ass, and it’s a singularly comfortable and enflaming feeling. I want to pound against these and hear our skin smack together. I want to feel my hardness spank her.
When my shaft finds the spot where her softness hides a hot silken mouth, I sink my tip into her wetness, and drive deep.
My shaft’s oil glands spurt the thickest fluid I’ve ever spent, easing my way and heating her insides to liquid fire.
Nalle screams my name, and I growl into her neck. Damnation, this feels like flying straight to heaven.
Her elbows buckle, bringing her shoulders-down on the floor before me, forcing my mouth to release her flesh else I’m afraid I’ll hurt her. But that’s all the concession I’ll make, and because my fist is gripping her hip, she’s forced to arch her back, because I’m not letting her get away. No, she’s staying right where she is. I withdraw my length, reveling in the sucking sound her greedy sheath makes as my shaft pulls out of her body’s erotic hold.
“Ummghhm,” Nalle moans behind her hands, still half-collapsed.
Chest punching her back as I inhale and come down over her to give her nape a nuzzling kiss, I find the willpower to take a slow glide through her tender folds, trailing my cock feelers, letting them go to work before I find that place between her lips again and sink easily back inside. I curl my hips against her hard, making her grunt in shock and shoving her body forward along the floor. There’s a woven rug ahead of us, and if we aren’t rutting in a bed this first time, I can fuck her onto the rug at least.
I pull out of her and slam back in, vowing to do just that.
CHAPTER 19
Nalle
Halki’s member is the stuff of legends. It’s tremendous.
The two strange feelers at the end of his staff elongate and wrap around my clit, tugging and tickling. Every time he withdraws, the tension eases up—and that’s when they feather over me, making me bite my lip and moan at the sensation. When Halki thrusts deep, the tension increases until the feathers jerk off of my clit. It’s a teasing rhythm that drives me wild.
The orgasm hits me like a surging tornado, making me scream.
“Yessss,” Halki hisses as his shaft is treated to a powerful massage. He stops thrusting and holds himself tight inside me to best take advantage of the way my channel flutters and grips him.
My whimpers and noises drive Halki to the edge. He begins hammering me, his hips pistoning with enough power to make me see stars, his release barrelling down on him.
But instead of coming, he pulls out.
Halki wraps around me like a land-attacking octopus. His strong body forces mine to roll over so that I’m facing him.
“Ouch,” I complain when my elbow bangs the floor planks.
“Curses on dark elves! Sorry,” he rasps. He shoves his arm under my shoulders and hauls me up until I’m cradled to his chest. Which is easily three of me wide. My face sticks to his scales; he feels hot as a braised bull’s haunch. He leans us forward and snags a woven floor rug, setting me knees-down on it, his loincloth no barrier at all as his staff prods at my tunic dress (which has dropped to cover my lap) like it's trying to make friends.
I’m surprised to find that I’m no longer afraid of what Halki’s utterly strange organ will do. Instead, I’m primed to experience it again. “Why did you stop?” I ask.
“Wanted to see you,” he pants through bared teeth—and his gaze is devouring me. When he meets my eyes, his satisfaction is clear in his glowing green stare.
He takes a rib-launching breath and my eyes are drawn down the length of his body. He’s beautiful. Scales and all, his strong body is a work of art—and he is all mine. Fire laps through my system.
“Nalle,” Halki growls.
My eyes snap up to his.
“I want to skin you,” he declares.
The longest beat of silence ensues.
I don’t think I’ve ever blinked at anyone as much as I’m blinking up at him. And his face is so earnest, it’s disturbing. “Don’t repeat that. Just tell me you meant something else.”
Halki frowns. His clawed finger and thumb pinch my tunic’s shoulder strap. “Take this skin off.”
A laugh catches in the back of my throat, but he looks so serious, I don’t let it out. I should earn a prize for how hard I have to work to stifle my smile, but I reach for the fastenings on my dress.
“Wait,” Halki says. “I want to do the skinning.”
Eyes wide, I hold up my hands. “Every woman in the tribe is jealous of what’s happening in here, but they have no idea what I have to deal with when it comes to you.
”
Halki frowns again. “Climaxes that make you cry my name?”
I nod primly. “All right, you can deliver those, I’ll give you that.”
He makes a disbelieving noise. “You’ll ‘give’ me that, will you? The nerve, female.” Under his gruff words, he sounds amused. And breaths coming in harsh pants, Halki slowly unwraps me.
A yearning look takes over his expression, and his gaze speaks to how fortunate he feels to have me. It sets my tummy on fire, combats my shyness, and dispels any vestiges of hesitation.
Manner caught between tenderness and hunger, he runs his fingers down my throat, between my breasts, over my belly, and down one thigh stained purple with his oils. It’s shocking—not the staining; his patience—because I expected him to rush and rip at me and take me. He’s wooing me after he conquered me, which feels backwards—but maybe this is the natural order for dragons: bond to mate, breed mate, learn mate.
Knees touching, his slightly trembling fingers careful, his eyes get hotter and hotter as he explores my body with touches that are so chaste they almost feel shy.
They make me feel shy. I find myself blushing under his starving, appreciative scrutiny.
When I glance away from him, Halki’s knuckle hooks me under the chin and tilts my head up until I’m forced to meet his eyes.
He grunts.
He frowns and grunts again. Then he’s scowling and showing me his teeth.
“What?” I ask, my voice shaking slightly as I try to suppress a nervous laugh. “Are you so caught up in passion that you’ve lost the ability to speak?”
Halki’s eyes flash. Looking gravely serious, he nods once.
I blink at him. “Oh.”
Learning how overcome he feels is intoxicating. He still hasn’t cum; he’s so swollen and hard between us that I’m amazed he’s not howling from pain. He’s leaking purple fluid onto the floor, but he’s ignoring his jutting organ, keeping his focus on me, so I keep my focus on the rest of his body. Lighting him up everywhere else that I can. My hands stroke up his sides—and to my delight, he arches and purrs for me in pleasure.
There isn’t really any need to remove his loincloth; as he’s already demonstrated, he can get to me fine simply by flipping it aside. But I bring slightly trembling fingers to the ties of it anyway, and my insides turn warmer when Halki’s skin flickers at my finger’s touch over his hip.
Now both of us are naked, facing each other.
His wide chest fills my field of vision. He’s so tall that he’d have to lean down if he wanted me to stick out my tongue and flick one of his nipples.
My tongue suddenly wants that. I wonder how he’d react. I don’t think dragons have nipples in their natural form so teasing his should be an eye-opening experience for us both.
Chest rising and falling faster, my gaze traces over Halki’s frame with proprietary satisfaction. His broad shoulders seem to stretch from one side of the building to the other. And the way he sucks in his breath and his abdominals stand out in sharp relief as my gaze sinks down his body…
My mouth goes dry at the same time the spot between my legs grows wetter.
Halki’s eyes are taking me in the same way that I’m staring at him. His hand slides over my stomach with all the pressure of a butterfly’s wing, as if a rough movement from him will make me disappear.
“Soffft,” he murmurs on a rumbled breath, stroking me.
Well, my skin would be. Even in his ‘human’ form, his scales have a slightly abrasive quality to them, and his palm-scales are flat-out calloused. He strokes all the way down until he reaches my thigh, and then he slides his hand until he’s cupping my bottom. He adds his other hand below my other cheek. And then he’s hauling me against him, front to front, and carrying me towards the bed like the building is burning and reaching the horizontal surface is how we’ll survive this.
He drops me on my back on the pile of our coarse woolen blankets—
I ignore the vomit brick which is nesting with the blankets. Which isn’t easy because the damn thing has multiplied; Halki returned from his jackal hunt with an upchuck chunk of similar size but fulvous in color. The pair of them are brushing my shoulder and touching my hair, but I do my level best to pretend they aren’t with us.
He moves over me suddenly, and with surprising skill for a man who’s really a dragon, he expertly parts my legs with his knee. His cock bumps its wide, shiny crown against my mons, and the feathers at the tip tickle along my slit, slipping between my thighs.
Nothing could have prepared me for the strangeness of these two invasions. Wriggling wildly and tickling.
But the cries they haul from me are not complaints.
When Halki’s face moves over mine, I tilt my head up to receive his kiss.
Instead, he shocks me by dragging his textured jaw against mine and… his lips find my earlobe.
He opens his mouth, gently draws my lobe past his lips—and then he bites me.
“Ahh! I thought this was going to be a kiss!” I start, my hands flying to his arms, squeezing his muscles here—and the hardness of them sends a punch of lust rushing through me.
Meanwhile, with a little lick, Halki releases my ear and begins teasing down my throat.
He fastens his lips, sucking at my neck—and then he bites me like a vampire bat.
“What are you doing?” I pant.
I can’t imagine old Yatanak sucking on a woman’s neck. Actually, I don’t want to imagine it. But I have seen some evidence of such a thing. Plus, I’ve heard the giggles and moans coming from his turf house and I’ve heard lots of stories—but biting ears and necks still seems strange to me.
However… it does FEEL good. Far, far better than I ever could have imagined.
“I am,” he rumbles as his teeth find my shoulder, his voice rough, guttural, “marking you as a dragon marks his mate.” He bites me again.
I cry out and my fingers spear into his hair, clutching him. Why does this feel good?
He folds himself over me and cups his hand under one of my breasts, holding it up like it’s an offering.
“Nooo,” I moan, experiencing too much and feeling too good to tense up. Despite the fact that a dragon is using me as his chew toy, I’m also aware of how surprisingly swollen I’ve become below. And, as my thighs slip past one another with startling ease, I find I’ve achieved a state of near-saturation. Who knew my cream would gather from dragon bites?
Halki’s eyes gleam as he briefly makes eye contact—and then his focus is stolen by my nipple, and he pounces on it with his mouth.
He pulls it onto his tongue and sucks on it.
I’ve heard of this act—breast play, of course I have—but I had no context as to how incredible it feels to have a man’s mouth latched on to such a sensitive area. With each tug from his mouth, I feel a spark race to the apex of my thighs, causing heat to flare in my stomach. “Halki!” I gasp.
He bites my nipple.
I shriek and clutch at the back of his neck. But for having sharp teeth, he’s unbelievably… gentle somehow. Because it doesn’t hurt like a true bite, and when I regain the use of my muscles enough to lift my head and glance down at myself, I’m not bleeding anywhere.
Halki transfers his attention to my other breast, and I brace myself when he closes his mouth over my nipple here too…
But he only draws at it with his tongue, adding a sucking pressure before he pulls away.
My body sags a little in a strange sort of disappointment.
A laugh rasps out from between my dragon’s bright white teeth, making my eyes shoot to his.
He drags his cheek over my shoulder before sinking to the level of my breast again, and after rasping his scaly face there, he strikes with his mouth.
The flash of pain is chased by a burst of pleasure that hits me square between the legs even harder than before. “Why do I want this? Why does this feel good?” I ask, dazed.
“Because I’m a Crested Merlin, and we’re amazing at e
verything we do,” Halki replies. He sounds entirely serious.
I blink at the top of his head. “Um, just so you know, humility may not be one of your strong suits.”
“Eh. That’s a well-known fact among dragonkind.” His hands skate down my sides and grip my hips, hard. He runs his tongue down the line of my stomach, making all of my skin jump, making my cheeks flush hot, stopping just above my curly mound. He looks up at me and grins. “But who needs to be humble when I’m magnificent?”
And then his thick fingers expertly part my lower lips and his knuckles drag past my swollen center of pleasure.
“NGNHA!” is what I shout.
Halki purrs loudly and teases along my insides with his fingers, stretching me, testing, seeking something. “I wonder,” he manages to speak through the rattling noise his chest and throat are emitting, his lids low in a way that’s making my heart race, “if you are like they say dragon females are, and you have a special sweet spot tucked inside your vent.”
Vent? I shake my head to clear the image of a snake with its tail popped back, its hatch open—the one that expels and takes in breeding stuff as well as voids chalky waste. Gross. I shake my head harder.
Halki’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment he looks crestfallen. If he were in his dragon form, this might be a literal happening with his real frill deflating at my answer.
“Not you,” I tell him. “I was picturing a snake’s—never mind. Yes, I have a sweet spot, and if you keep doing what you’re doing, you’re going to find it.”
Halki rises over me, his breath fanning along my cheek before he drops his chin and drags his tongue up my throat, clearly pleased with this news.
His fingers keep circling inside me, slow and blindly, pleasurable but just off center from where my body would be best served by his attention.
“Pretend you’re aiming for my belly button,” I pant, feeling wetness at the side of my mouth. Oh my Venys, am I drooling? Swiping at my face with the back of my wrist, I return my hand to his shoulder where I had it perched, kneading and digging into his muscle with my nails.
“Your what?” he asks.
It takes me a moment to understand what he’s asking.