by Amelia Jade
“I won’t,” he said from behind her, his mouth kissing her legs and ass even as he continued to pleasure her. “I want you to tell me when you’re going to cum.”
“I will,” she promised, her arms beginning to shake. “I’m so close. So cl—”
Miranda couldn’t finish her sentence. Without warning, Daxxton’s finger vanished, replaced by his tongue on her clit. If the warmth of that change wasn’t enough, his now-slick finger slid inside her a moment later.
“Holy shit. I’m going to cum!” she moaned loudly.
And then she did. Her climax exploded violently through her body, making her shake. If it weren’t for Daxxton’s other arm wrapping around her upper legs and holding her, she would have fallen to the ground as she writhed in sinful pleasure from what he’d done to her.
Warmth exploded down her leg as she continued to orgasm for him, his tongue and finger never slowing down. She tried to stop him, but he ignored her, and moments later Miranda knew she couldn’t hold out.
“I’m going to cum again,” she managed to get out between gasps as her lungs heaved for air. “Oh Daxxton. Fuck. Don’t you dare stop. Holy shit.” Her cries filled the room as it happened all over again.
She felt her walls contract, and her core flexed and relaxed at a wickedly fast pace. Miranda came a second time, just as violently. Her eyes began to hurt from how hard she had them squeezed shut, but it didn’t matter. There was no way she could control her body as it shook.
This time Daxxton did stop, slowing his touch to match how violently she shook. As Miranda steadied herself, he stopped entirely. She knew that he’d had to twist his head at an interesting angle to be able to please her so, but it didn’t seem to bother him.
She began to turn, to drop to her knees and return the favor, but an iron grip closed around her waist, holding her still.
“Don’t move,” he growled at her.
The hands disappeared and she heard what sounded like clothing being removed.
Then one hand returned, and she felt her eyes fly open as the head of a rather large cock pressed against her opening.
“Oh my,” she gasped. “Yes. Fuck me. Please.”
“Of course,” he said, and pushed inside of her.
“Oh my God,” she practically screamed as his thick shaft pushed her walls apart, forcing its way inside her with a mixture of ecstasy and pain that threatened to overwhelm her senses. He was just so big. “You’re fucking huge,” she panted as he stopped. “I can’t believe I took it all.”
“That’s about halfway,” he said, his voice thick with smug arrogance.
“You’re joking,” she gasped in surprise, a hand dropping between her legs.
No, he wasn’t. She could feel much of his cock still outside her.
“I don’t know if I can take all of you,” she said in disbelief.
And yet, even as she said that, her hips moved of their own accord, pushing back against him, feeling him even deeper. “Oh God,” she said as her body shuddered while trying to accommodate him. “Holy fuck. You’re so deep.”
Behind her Daxxton only growled and groaned as he buried his huge cock in her inch by inch.
“How much more?” she asked.
“Just a little.”
“Fucking give it to me,” she ordered.
Daxxton didn’t hesitate. He buried his entire remaining length within her in one smooth, gentle motion.
Miranda came immediately as she felt his hips touch hers. Her walls tightened around him and Daxxton let out a hiss of delight as they continued to squeeze his cock as she shook. This time she was held aloft by his hands on her waist and the huge rod that felt like it was halfway into her stomach.
The third orgasm subsided and she gasped for breath as control returned to her body.
“Daxxton,” she said after a moment, blinking away the stars that had been clouding her vision.
“Yes?” he asked.
“Fuck me,” she ordered, her voice leaving no room for negotiation.
The big shifter didn’t respond. He simply backed his hips out several inches and then thrust back into her again.
“Yes!” she cried. “Fuck me hard,” she said again.
Daxxton complied. This time he seemed to withdraw almost completely before the entire length of his cock came slamming back into her, making her ass bounce as his hips collided with hers. But he didn’t stop.
Miranda lost all semblance of control as he pounded her hard, his fingers tightening on her waist so that she couldn’t move.
Her body shook, breasts bouncing wildly against the bed. The comforter became one big ball of material as she clung onto it desperately, needing to squeeze something as the ripped shifter fucked her with abandon.
It was so rough and carnal as she took him from behind.
And Miranda fucking loved it.
Never once did she feel the urge to switch positions, or to say another word. Daxxton simply fucked her hard with his cock, slamming it into her again and again. At one point his hand began to spank her ass, just hard enough for it to tingle, and she came again almost instantly, coating his cock in her juices once more.
At some point, she felt him begin to shake.
“Are you going to cum?” she practically begged him, needing several breaths to get the sentence out.
“Yes,” he said deeply.
“Not inside me,” she ordered.
“I’m going to—”
Daxxton pulled out from within her even as she felt him swell in size once more.
A moment later he groaned in pleasure and she felt the first rope of his hot cum splash across her back. It was followed by another, and another, as he coated her in his seed, the blazing warm liquid feeling wonderful on her skin.
He made all sorts of grunts and groans as he finished cumming. Miranda, meanwhile, was holding onto the bed for dear life, not trusting her legs to hold her aloft after the fucking she’d just taken.
There was a sudden silence that descended, filled only by the two of them as they both struggled to return air to their lungs. Sensing that he was done, Miranda pulled herself forward onto the bed, lying sprawled out.
A moment later Daxxton flopped down beside her, his incredibly muscular body covered in a sheen of sweat from his exertion. The glistening skin only served to enhance his muscles some more, and she marveled at him, tracing the outline of each individual one in his back with her eyes.
“Fuck, you’re hot,” she said aloud.
“Speak for yourself,” he panted, turning his head to look at her.
Their eyes met, and suddenly everything came crashing back to reality.
“Oh. Shit,” they said in unison.
Daxxton looked guilty and distraught, while she knew her face reflected panic at what they’d just done.
“I should go,” the big dragon said awkwardly.
Chapter Eight
Daxxton
He took one last delightful look at her naked body, covered in his cum. Fuck, she was hot. His cock responded, ready to take her once more, but he knew he couldn’t.
“I’m sorry,” he said, gathering his clothes up in his arms and making a beeline for the door.
What had he been thinking?!
Peeking his head out the door, he glanced down the hallway. It was clear, and he fled to his own room.
Right across the hall.
So much for putting some distance between us. He almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation, but he couldn’t, because his guilt came back full swing.
Now, not only had he slept with someone else, but in his panic he’d run from the room, leaving her covered in his cum!
Daxxton hung his head in shame. There was nothing he could do about it now. Walking back across the hall just to clean her up, then running away, would only make things worse than they already were. The idea of that brought a smile to his face for a moment, but it was quickly smothered by his inner guilt, which had decided to return full force.
I’m sorry.
The wordless apology could have gone to both women, he knew. But right then he was only thinking of Kyra, his mate. Long ago he’d made a promise to her. To always be faithful. He’d kept that promise emotionally, if not physically, until just then. But there was no denying the fact that though it had been rough and not tender, the coupling with Miranda had been an emotional thing, not just for relief of his physical desires.
He knew Kyra wouldn’t begrudge him having sex. But he couldn’t bear the thought of knowing he’d failed her with his heart. After more than five centuries of keeping it for her, he’d failed.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to the empty room.
He dropped the clothes in a pile next to the ones from the day before, which were now pressed and clean, neatly stacked on the bed.
Then he moved into the en suite bathroom and ran the shower, hoping it might help wash away the guilt, but knowing in his mind that it wouldn’t do a damn thing besides clean his body.
The whistle of the showerhead as it poured hot water slowly morphed into the screams he dreaded. Images flashed behind his eyes.
“No,” he protested, not wanting to relive it. “Please. Not now.”
But they didn’t stop. He saw the faces pleading with him. The corpses and fires strewn about. The blood everywhere he turned.
And the screams. Always the screams of the injured, wailing as they cried out for their mothers.
“STOP IT!” he roared, going berserk. His fist smashed into the wall, tile crumbing under the blow as he drove it right through the reinforced concrete board underneath.
Shrieking, his brain assaulted by more images than he could handle, Daxxton tore the bathroom apart. He reduced the tub to ruin with several swift kicks, the porcelain shattering. The vanity crumpled as he yanked it from the wall and hurled it into the corner, splintering apart under the impact.
He almost destroyed the toilet, but a sliver of common sense intruded, reminding him of the mess that would entail.
Instead he went into the bedroom and destroyed every piece of furniture he could as his rage built into a cold fury, all aimed directly at himself and his own actions.
Finally, sitting amongst the battered pieces of the bed, nightstands, dresser, and more, he collapsed, his lungs heaving as the rage left him.
“I need a drink,” he said, standing abruptly. He found his clean clothes in the mess and pulled them on—black pants, silk shirt, and gray socks. His tactical boots came next, and then he strode from the room.
Two members of Klara’s personal security team and one of the servants stood conferring in low tones in the hallway. They glanced up as he emerged.
“What?” he snarled and brushed past them, the smaller shifters scurrying to get out of his way.
Nobody wanted to fuck with an angry dragon.
Daxxton strode through the house, ignoring the looks he received from all over. The noise must have carried. Not that he cared just then. The bar beckoned, and he walked into the room and right up to the counter. He placed one hand on it and vaulted over it without slowing. The bottle of shifter-strength whiskey was right in front of him, and he grabbed it, retracing his path back over the bartop. There he found a seat and settled in, taking a long pull from the bottle, feeling the liquid burn smoothly on its way into his stomach. Daxxton wasn’t a huge drinker, but he needed something to settle his nerves before he lost it on a person, and not inanimate objects.
I am so much more fucked up than anyone knows.
That thought produced a hiccup-like laugh in him as he took another swig. Everyone thought he was this old, wise dragon, who had everything figured out.
“Little do they fucking know I’m a walking wreck,” he muttered with another near-hysterical laugh. “Daxxton Ryker, the haunted Aurum Dragon. That’s me.”
He put his head down on the counter and without warning, began to cry.
***
Miranda
She stayed in her room, feeling the house shake from Daxxton’s tantrum. It went on for hours. At one point she thought he was going to come into her room and she would have to fight him. That was not a battle she wanted. Miranda might be a Blast Dragon, one of the stronger of the races, but even she wasn’t so arrogant as to think she could take him on.
But eventually it subsided, and she relaxed a little.
Then his door opened, and she heard him snarl at someone in the hallway.
She’d gone straight for the shower the instant he’d left, needing to wash herself clean of the evidence of their coupling, although she would never let herself forget the memory. Despite any complications that would arise from her sleeping with a Cadian, it had just been way too good for her to forget.
The biggest problem she had, was that she wanted more. More of him, in any way she could get it. Harder. Faster. Slower. More intimate. Less intimate. She craved him. Physically. Emotionally.
But he was from Cadia, and she couldn’t allow herself to do that! What would her people think if they learned she was with someone from their biggest neighbor? Fuck. She hated politics, dammit!
There was a knock on her door. It was so unexpected she jumped a little.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“Patrick, ma’am,” came the voice of one of Klara’s resident security team.
She opened the door a crack. “Yes?”
The tall, blue-eyed grizzly shifter looked around, almost embarrassed. “I’m not sure how to phrase this, but, ah, you heard, I assume?”
She glanced past him at the doorway across the hall from her. “Yes, I did.”
He nodded. “Okay. Well, I think you should go speak to him.”
Miranda frowned. “Me? Oh, no. I think I’m the last person who should talk to him.”
Patrick frowned at that, giving her a slight sigh of relief. It likely meant he didn’t know they’d slept together just before whatever had caused Daxxton’s meltdown.
“He’s in the bar, ma’am. I really think you should go see him.”
There was something in his voice.
“Why?”
“Just, please. Go see him,” Patrick pleaded.
“Fine,” she acquiesced. There was something in his voice. Something about why he wanted it to be her that went to Daxxton.
Emerging from her room, she walked down the hallways toward the bar, wondering just what the hell was going on. A drink might help calm her own jittery nerves.
She slowed to a halt at the door to the bar, as the reason why Patrick wanted her to go see Daxxton became clear.
There in the dark the big, strong, powerful Aurum Dragon, one of the most respected dragons she knew of, was hunched over the bar, a bottle of whiskey half-gone as great heaving sobs racked his body.
“Oh no,” she whispered, her feet carrying her toward him before she even realized. “Daxxton, it’s okay.”
She stopped several feet from him, not wanting to intrude.
“No,” he said, the single choked-out word breaking her heart. “It’s not.”
“Can I sit?” she asked, not wanting to intrude if he didn’t want it.
The big man hesitated, but then he nodded. He stopped crying as she sat next to him, wiping the tears away with his shirt, trying to compose himself.
“Sorry you had to see me like that,” he muttered unhappily.
She smiled. “It’s okay. Men are allowed to cry too,” she told him. “Even those like you, who I’m sure feel that society will judge them ill for it. It’s okay, a good cry can be a huge help at times.”
He looked at her, a rueful smile crossing his face for just a moment.
“It’s not going to help my reputation much though,” he said, biting off a sarcastic laugh. “Sorry,” he murmured, shaking his head.
“Don’t be,” she insisted, reaching out and laying her hand on his forearm reassuringly. Miranda made sure not to let it linger, doing it as a friend, not as a lover.
Daxxton nodded and took a deep
breath, steadying himself. He eyed the whiskey, and then before she could stop him, he took another drink. It was a short, shallow one though. He shivered slightly and sat up. When he spoke again, his voice was stronger, as if cleared by the booze.
“I owe Klara a big apology.”
She laughed softly. “Yes, I suppose you do, don’t you?”
“And some new furniture. Damn, I doubt that stuff was cheap,” he said regretfully.
Dragons never liked to spend their money.
“Probably not,” she agreed with another chuckle.
Daxxton sobered. “I owe you an explanation.”
Miranda shook her head. “No, you don’t,” she replied. “You don’t owe me anything. If you wish to talk about whatever is haunting you, I will gladly listen. But you do not have to do anything.”
He eyed her. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Just shut up and take it,” he said with a smile, letting her know he was being lighthearted.
Miranda bowed her head slightly, returning the look.
“Come, I want a real seat,” he said, sliding from the barstool and heading for a booth at the back of the room, where they could be alone. The light from the hallway barely carried back there, the gloom darkening around them.
Seated, he took another short sip, swishing it around in his mouth for a moment before swallowing.
“First, I’m sorry for just bailing earlier. I should have, ah, stayed around to help. You know. Clean up,” he said, and she saw his face heat up slightly with embarrassment.
Miranda laughed. “I can handle it,” she told him. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”
He nodded, looking down at the table. “There’s no real easy way to ease into this, so I’m just going to speak. I’ve not told anyone this in a long, long time, so my apologies if it’s disjointed.”
“I’ll follow along,” she said, dismissing his worries.
Daxxton paused, his eyes gazing deep into the dark wood of the table. Miranda simply sat there and waited. Whatever he was about to say, it was going to be tough for him.
“You know that the last big shifter war was over two hundred years ago,” he began.