Damian rocked forward, stroking into her again, and she had to fight not to moan. Then he let go of her mouth, and she took a ragged breath.
“Andi?” Sammy asked with concern, as Damian kept on torturing her. His hand against her clit sped up, and his strokes became more insistent.
“I’m up…it’s just…don’t come in; I have a cold,” she got out in between being rocked by him, biting her lips to stop from making any other noises, no matter how much she wanted to.
“Oh, no! I’m so sorry!” Sammy said, from safely down the hall.
“Yeah, it’s awful.” Andi feigned a hacking cough.
“My princess is a bad liar,” Damian whispered with amusement in her ear.
“Fuck you,” she whispered back at him. He punished her with another stroke, arching his hips so that it felt like she could feel the crown of him dragging inside her and she rolled her head back, gasping out, “I’m gonna go back to sleep now, Sammy…we’ll catch up tonight?”
“Oh, God, you sound awful. Yes, feel better.” They heard Sammy’s footsteps depart down the hall, then just as quickly return to stand right outside her closed door. “Just know that for once, you’re not the only one who needs sleep!”
Damian pulled himself out quickly and then plunged just as fast back inside, and one of Andi’s hands fisted in her sheets, trying not to scream. “Congratulations!” she gritted out cheerfully.
“Thanks!” Sammy said with a giggle, and Andi could almost hear her hair-flip, as she padded back down the hall.
“You are the worst,” Andi whispered hoarsely, the second they heard Sammy’s bedroom door close.
“The worst what?” he asked her back as she twisted to look up at him. His grin feigned complete innocence like it was entirely separate from the rest of his still-fucking-her-slowly body.
“The worst everything,” she said with a head shake.
“Oh, I don’t know about that. Does this feel like the worst to you?” he asked her, then thrust into her deeply again, catching her mouth with his hand again to muffle her moaning. “I like to think I’m quite good at some things, princess,” he said and started taking her more quickly.
Her hips started working against his of their own accord, letting him land deep, and she brought up both hands to keep his hand over her mouth because otherwise there was no way she could stay quiet, and Sammy would instantly know, as would their neighbors and Eumie’s customers below, just what was happening in her bedroom. He purred at that, keeping his own sounds soft, but Andi could hear his rough breathing in her ear. One of his hands pressed between her legs again, half to keep her hips back, and half to touch her, rubbing her so perfectly, and she could feel her heart speed up and taste the salt of his palm and her nipples were twin points of ache, so she gave up on holding his hand in place to grab her breasts and pull them only to feel him tense up as he watched her.
“Give it to me Andi,” he demanded quietly, his commands hot in her ear. “Give. It. To. Me.”
He punctuated every word with a thrust and the combination of everything—his breath, his hands, his cock—undid her. She moaned her way through a long release. She couldn’t help it; not even a saint could’ve managed it quietly, thrashing against him, and heard his own accompanying hissing as he valiantly tried to stay quiet and also failed as he lost himself inside her, pulsing hard, thrusting up, making her ride him to completion. His hand slid down her face, and as the edge of his fingers pressed between her lips, she bit them to keep them there as she gasped.
“Fuck,” she whispered when she next had breath to do so. “How…?” She went on, shaking her head, unsure what she should say next. How did he do this to her every time? How come everything with him always felt so right? How could it feel this good?
How on earth would she survive if this ever stopped?
“I don’t know, princess,” he said, kissing her as he slowly, regretfully pulled out of her. “All I do know is that a moment when I’m not with you is a moment wasted.”
Andi felt herself flush. He wasn’t supposed to say things like that—it was unfair. It was not what normal people did.
But he wasn’t normal, was he?
He situated himself around her so that she was flat on the bed, and he was leaning beside her protectively, one of his thighs across hers, one of his arms underneath his own head, with the other hand roaming her body. “What would you like now?” he asked her. “More sleep, breakfast, or round two?”
Andi looked up at him and found his golden eyes staring kindly down. The coolly imperious man she’d been in turns excited by and frightened of had softened, though she knew that man was still inside Damian, same as his dragon was. “All of the above, I think.”
He smiled and laughed. “Pick an order.” Just then, her stomach rumbled, choosing for her. “Breakfast it is, then,” Damian grinned, and began pulling away.
“But then rounds two through twelve?” she said, sounding just as petulant as Damian had earlier.
“There’d better be more than twelve,” he said, reaching for his jeans on her floor, and she watched him bend over, every single muscle on his abdomen rippling, as he pulled on his boxer briefs and jeans—which was why it was taking a while for the less sexed parts of her brain to come online.
She sat up. “Wait…where are you going?”
“Through the mirror in your bathroom,” he said, gesturing with his chin as he swept his shirt up.
“To cook me breakfast?” she questioned.
“No. Sorry, cooking’s not a skill I possess; I hope that’s not a huge disappointment,” he said as he tugged his shirt on. “When I’m out in the world, I use money for food, and when I’m at home, I use my magic cat.”
Andi clapped her hands to her face and tried not to giggle.
“What? You’ve seen him!” Damian quietly protested, looking amused.
“I know!” She’d met Grimalkin a week ago at Damian’s when she’d been saving his friend’s life, and she’d seen him change himself from a normal-sized seal-point Siamese into a tiger in under a second. “It’s just, you look super manly, and then you go and say the words ‘magic cat’ like that’s not absurd—”
“I’ll show you some absurd things,” he whisper-threatened, lunging meaningfully toward her bed with his hand on his belt buckle.
Andi squealed softly and skittered backward, almost off the bed, and he grabbed her ankles to yank her back toward him, before falling over her himself and catching himself with his elbows. She was hyperaware of just how naked she was beneath him and all the things that they could do and keep on doing, and he leaned down to kiss her gently, before pushing himself to stand straight again.
“Stop thinking so loudly…it’s distracting,” he said teasingly.
“What? You can’t read my mind,” she said, rolling over on her bedsheets, suddenly concerned. “Can you?”
“No, but I don’t need to when you’re looking at me like that.” He gestured at all of her, sprawled out atop her bed.
She coyly stripped a sheet over her with one hand, hiding half a leg and a breast. “What am I thinking now, then?” she asked and pouted at him.
He grinned at her lasciviously. “I’ll tell you after breakfast. And, if I’m wrong, I’ll keep guessing until I’m right.”
Andi pouted. “I feel like there should be penalties.”
“I could definitely come up with some.”
“For you, not me; I’m not the one bragging I can read people’s thoughts.” She shrugged as cutely as she could and then slow-rolled herself over, winding the sheet around her body.
“Fuck me,” he muttered as he watched her, before stepping away from the bed with purpose. “Stop that. Just let me feed you. I’ll be right back.”
He turned on his heel and walked toward her bathroom, and after a second, she jumped out of bed and followed him, curious how the whole thing worked, wrapping herself with the sheet along the way. She caught up with him as he put a knee up on her counter,
though at seeing her, he paused and tsked her name. “Andi.”
“What? I just want to watch is all.”
He groaned. “So many other circumstances in which I want to hear that, but,” he said and took her in, “what’s the sheet for?”
“Well, now that I know that anyone can be looking through the other side….” She hitched the penguin-patterned sheet higher under her arms, looked at herself in reflection, and fought not to laugh. It was a good thing he was so enamored with her because she had some serious, serious sex hair.
“Most people can’t. It’s an upper-level power.” He rocked off the counter and turned around to sit on it instead. “And it’s even harder without a connection to the person on the other side.” He reached out to her with his arms and she walked into them, letting him loosely wrap them around her hips.
“Will you be able to see me?” she asked with a serious squint.
“I could, yes.”
Her squint doubled. “Did you look? Before?”
“Not really?” She heard the strain in his voice and remembered that she’d made him promise to never lie to her the prior night.
“Damian!” she hissed. “You did! Didn’t you!”
He looked up at the ceiling for forgiveness and then returned his gaze to her. “Only twice. Once, when you were waiting at the bus stop for that man,” he said, and Andi heard the snarl in his voice at David’s memory. “And then again—not in here, I swear—but in your bedroom. The other night I saw you smiling at your phone as you messaged someone, and it nearly killed me.” Pain flickered across his face at the memory.
“You mean my roommate? I’d say it serves you right, but I suspect you already know that.”
“I do, believe me.” He let go of her to lean back against her mirror and run his fingers through his hair. “I wouldn’t have even been looking if my dragon hadn’t wanted to see you so badly.”
“Oh, so that’s what you call it?” she said, gesturing between his legs, and he laughed then reached for the sheet around her, using it to tug her close to him again.
“I won’t look anymore. I promise. I know you need your privacy.”
“Good because I do. Especially in here. Except for maybe when I don’t, but I will tell you when that is, mister.” She reached for the sheet he held and shimmied it loose from his hands, before dropping it to kick it aside. “Like now, for instance. Because I am going to take myself and my ornate hairstyle into the shower.”
She stepped into her tub and leaned over to turn on the water. Andi heard him mutter, “Trying to kill me,” again before the sound of the water drowned him out—but when she looked over, he was gone.
* * *
Damian pulled himself through Andi’s mirror with clear intent before he could talk himself out of it again. After breaching the surface of the glass, he was in the howling void of the between-places for a second—a cold space filled with what felt like grasping hands—and then he was pushing through the glass of his own travelling mirror on the far side, stepping out from the dead chill into the warmth of his own bedroom.
All the other mirrors on his wall were closed and fogged except for the one he’d just walked through. He took a moment to look back and saw Andi’s form barely hidden by the glass door of her shower. It made her blurry, but he could still see the outline of her curves and the wave of her now wet hair cascading over her shoulder. He hadn’t showered with her yet, had he? They’d been in his dragon’s bathing pond together, but he’d been trying not to look at her the whole time—it hardly counted. One more thing to look forward to: being in a shower with her—maybe even his shower—where he could pick her up, and….
What kind of dragon doesn’t provide food for his mate? his dragon chided him. Feed her soon…or I will.
I know, I know, he said, waving a hand and closing their connection. At the thought of his dragon taking charge and getting food for Andi Game of Thrones-style, he snorted, and then his own reflection caught his eye.
He hardly looked like himself. Everything on the outside was still the same—he was tall, well-muscled, had black hair, and women seemed to like his appearance. But a tenseness that’d been riding his shoulders for far too long was gone. And even though it felt foolish, he was smiling—not at himself, but just smiling—because he couldn’t help himself…because of her.
He had an urge to tumble back through the mirror to her side and tell her—to show her—that this new him was all her fault, in a good way. But it would only take a few seconds longer to do it with breakfast in tow, as he’d promised.
“Grimalkin?” he said aloud, and the cat appeared into existence beside him, wings aflutter before gently sailing down.
“Present,” Grim meowed and sat back on his haunches to primly eye Damian. “You smell like the nurse. Did you have fun?”
Damian got the distinct impression that his ‘magic cat’ was judging him. “I did. Why do you ask?”
“Because Austin got up in the middle of the night last night,” Grimalkin reported.
“And?” Damian asked, fighting down old habits. His life in the Realms had been one of waiting for the next blow to land, and fears of backstabbing and betrayal came rushing back—none of which Austin deserved, he knew. Damian forced himself to rein in his fears the same way he reined in his dragon and wondered if he’d ever stop being haunted by his childhood.
“And he went to the kitchen, and he ate all my cheese.” Grimalkin said every other word with a hiss. “He didn’t even try to hide it, Damian! He did it right in front of me! Bite after bite!” The little cat visibly shuddered. “He put my twenty-year-old Wisconsin cheddar on saltines!”
Damian sighed in relief. “Grim…you’re…a hugely powerful magical entity. Why didn’t you just teleport it away?”
“I couldn’t!” Grim said with a pained yowl. “I was just watching him, and I couldn’t believe he’d do that—I mean, he’s a dog, how could he know how good cheese tastes?—and by then, it was too late.” Grimalkin flopped to the ground dramatically, as if someone had just stolen all his bones.
Damian almost groaned. All he wanted was to go back to Andi’s side with a palatial breakfast, but that required Grim’s help. At least he was getting a ‘magic cat’ story out of it to tell her—he could already hear her laugh about this in his mind. “I’ll buy you more, Grim,” he promised.
“It’s not that.” Grim lifted his head like it cost him all his strength. “It’s the principle of the thing.”
Damian knelt down to gently pet the cat’s side. “Do you want me to say something?”
“No,” Grim said, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I can’t let him know how important cheese is to me.” He sounded incredibly forlorn.
Damian pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand to maintain equilibrium. “And why not?” He did his best to ask kindly.
“Because. It’s my weakness.” Grim’s voice went quiet as if dying. “I can’t let anyone know.” The cat thumped his head on the floor dramatically.
“Oh my God, Grim,” Damian began, to tell his cat to snap out of it, but then, both of them heard a tap against glass. Grim was up on all fours in an instant, head swiveling in the direction of the sound.
One of Damian’s other mirrors was active—a thin, genteel oval mirror with an ornate frame. The fog inside it had cleared, and there was a familiar large red bird on the other side, delicate as an egret, pecking frantically on the glass.
“Lyka!” Grim said, excitedly naming the guardian on the other side.
“Ryana?” Damian whispered to himself, naming his half-sister, its owner, as he quickly moved to stand. The bird flared its wings out, flapping heavily against the mirror’s boundary, throwing itself wildly against the glass.
“Can we let her through?” Grim asked with concern, running over to stare between him and the fluttering bird.
Damian reached for the mirror’s glass without thinking, then hesitated. When he’d abdicated the throne twenty years
ago, coming to earth to postpone the inevitable fate of turning into his dragon, he’d sworn to Ryana’s mother, his stepmother, that he would never return nor interfere with the politics of the Realms in any way. Would letting Lyka through break that truce?
Why would Lyka have ever left Ryana behind?
“Little bird, where is your owner?” Damian wondered as Lyka threw herself against the mirror again, leaving a smear of blood behind on her side of the glass.
Damian’s eyes widened, and he clapped his hands together. “I need to see,” he commanded, sending out a wave of magical energy to all the mirrors on his wall. One by one, mirrors sought mirrors, and images from the Realms came into focus—a view from a parapet of distant smoke over rubble, a mirror over the ballroom showed courtiers and servants running wildly below, a mirror in the library showed books—his father’s books, and the only treasure Damian ached over leaving behind—on fire, edges curling. Each mirror glass showed a new portion of destruction, some piece of his former home falling apart.
Grim made a strangled sound as Damian’s hand slammed over onto the mirror, where Lyka struggled, opening the glass between them. The bird flew through, disappearing from sight only to reappear in the room with them, then soar up, making strange sounds along the way, scanning the mirrors that Damian had open, searching, and Damian knew for whom.
His sister.
He put both his hands to the glass in front of him. Though apart now for twenty years, he and Ryana had once been close—and he called on the link between them. Their childhood had pitted them against one another until they realized they were more alike than not, and well before Damian left, he considered Ryana his only true family—not his mother who’d forgotten him, not the stepmother who loathed him and saw him as an obstacle to her throne, not his father who had been overtaken by his dragon at long last.
Ryana was the only one who understood what it was like to grow up as a pawn, forced to play a game you didn’t know all the rules to, one you didn’t even want to win—but one you had to play, because if you lost you’d die.
Dragon Fated: A Billionaire Dragon Shifter Romance (Prince of the Other Worlds) Page 2
