The Black Dragon

by Allyson James

She found his flat nipples and stirred them to life, rendering them hot, hard little points. She skimmed her palms to his abdomen, dipping into his navel, and down his pelvis to stop at his waistband.

  Malcolm let her play without touching her, but his heart felt tight, and blood pounded in his veins. Her dark hair shone in the lamplight as she bent her head over his lap, fingers unfastening his belt, then his fly. When she slowly lowered his zipper, he moved her aside and stood up to slide the pants down his legs himself, too impatient to wait. His briefs followed.

  He liked how Saba's eyes widened at the sight of his nude body, though he told himself again that she'd seen him before. She'd even slept beside him the time he'd healed her, skin to skin. She placed her hands on his hips, and his hardness rose to her.

  "Sit down again," she said.

  He obliged, the polished walnut of the chair cool on his backside. She started at his throat and ran her fingers all the way down his body, leaving a trail of fire. She massaged his thighs, and he spread them to accommodate her.

  He saw the flush on the curve of her cheek as she contemplated his erection. His hands had become very shaky > for some reason.

  He bit back a groan when she sank to her knees and grasped the base of him. Her face set in intense concentration, she skimmed her touch over it, exploring the flange, shaft, and tight balls at its base. Malcolm held his breath, hardly wanting to move and break the moment as she stroked and played with him, driving up his body temperature every second.

  He lifted his hips as she continued to play, his backside nearly coming off the chair when she leaned over and kissed his tip.

  "Saba."

  She grinned up at him. "Malcolm."

  She wanted him as much as he did her. He scented it on her, the desire of a woman for a man. He knew she'd be wet if he touched her between her legs and that knowledge made him harder and heavier.

  Saba swiped her tongue once around his flange in a teasing circle, and he could take it no more. Grabbing her by the arms, he hauled her up and onto his lap.

  "Get… out… of… these," he murmured as he pushed at the shirt and bra.

  She snapped open the bra's catches and helped him toss it and her shirt off over her head. His fingers shook as he unfastened her jeans, then he peeled the pants and underwear down her legs for her.

  There, she was as bare as he was, straddling his lap so he could get to her. He slid his hands between her thighs and discovered that yes, she was as wet as he imagined her to be.

  Her opening pressed him and it was time, way past time, to finish this. He grasped her hips and lifted her slightly then slid her straight onto his stem.

  And his world changed. Colors he hadn't known existed suddenly slid through his mind along with the heady fragrance of her. And the feel of her clenching him like a fist, sweet and hot and tight. He'd never known it would be this wonderful, or else he never ever could have walked away from her. What was the magic of Dragonspace to this!

  He gathered her into his arms and saw her watching him, her eyes half-closed, a shy smile on her face. Shy? But yes, she blushed even while she moved her hips, riding him and making him feel this good.

  "My witch," he tried to say, but the words were incoherent.

  He knew he'd lived three thousand years for the moment of being with her, of holding Saba on his lap, her breasts tight against his chest, and filling her.

  Filling her up, hard. His fingers bit into her hips as he rocked with her, sweat dripping between their bodies sealed so close together. Was this love or lust, or was it best when love and lust were all mixed up?

  My mate, my witch, my love. Ride her, stroke her, have her. Mine.

  She made little noises in her throat, her eyes closing as they made love to each other. He felt her lips on his neck, his shoulder, little nibbles of her teeth in his flesh. He craned his neck to one side so she could bite and lick as much as she pleased. Her nails indented his flesh, and his own hands roamed up and down her back.

  "Malcolm," she whispered. She held his face between her hands, still rocking in the rhythm neither of them could stop, and kissed him. She kneaded his bottom lip between her teeth, sucking it into her mouth. All the while she watched him with heavy eyes, feeling deeply what he did to her.

  He knew he'd been right not to let her touch him all those months ago, not to take their relationship this far. He'd never have been able to leave her knowing how beautiful she felt. He would have stayed here, in this apartment, having her night after night after night. Returning to Dragonspace had to be the stupidest decision he'd made in his life.

  As Malcolm and Saba began to move faster and faster, his thoughts became incoherent, and Malcolm's thoughts never became incoherent. He felt the silver strands he'd woven around her tonight for protection wrap them both, pressing the two even closer together.

  Saba's breath came fast, her eyes closed now. She hung onto Malcolm as though she couldn't even think to caress him. "That's it, my Saba," he murmured. "Goddess, you feel so damn good."

  Saba gasped and her eyes flew open. "No," she moaned. "Not yet." Her dark eyes held anguish, then her walls pulsed and squeezed around him, slick and hot, her hips grinding her all the way onto him.

  Malcolm tried to hold on as long as he could, tightening and tightening, until all thought scattered and his control broke. He came hard up into her, his seed joining with her slick honey. Whatever words came out of his mouth, he had no idea; Malcolm the black dragon, always intellectual and precise, couldn't string two words together. Intellect was gone and emotion took over, emotion that made him want to stay inside her forever.

  It seemed like a long time later that his coherence came back, and he found her head on his shoulder, her body damp, her breathing hard.

  She raised her head and gave him a tired smile from under mussed hair. "I could almost say that was worth the wait," she murmured. "Except I really hated the wait."

  Malcolm smoothed her bangs back from her forehead. "You wanted it that much?" He hardly recognized his own voice, it croaked and rasped like a file on metal.

  "I wanted you."

  He stared at her in slight surprise. He'd assumed her desire was physical, a need to sate herself, not a hunger for the man that was Malcolm. But she regarded him with her half smile, the one of a woman satisfied with herself. She'd made him fall for her, and she was pleased about that.

  Malcolm growled low in his throat. "I won't let you get away with that."

  Before she could say, "Get away with what?" he had her off the chair and swept up into his arms. The chair slammed over backwards and skidded across the floor in his ferocity.

  He held her tight against him and strode swiftly from the room to her bed—their bed—and she cuddled against his chest and smiled her damn smile all the way.

  Saba awoke to her alarm beeping an admonition. With a heavy hand she shut it off and rolled over, not eager to face the gray light of a new day. She rammed right into the hard body of Malcolm, who lay face-down like a fallen god next to her, sheets tangled around his waist, the rest of his bronzed body exposed to the early morning sun.

  He slept deeply, head pillowed on a bent arm, hair in tangles from the lovemaking they'd finished up with in the bed. Even relaxed, his muscles were honed and taut, skin like bronze poured over a perfect form. His hips nipped in to a tight waist, below which his backside rose in a small mound, the skin the same color as the rest of his body. No tan lines for Malcolm.

  A beautiful man who'd sprung back into her life and was now tearing down the walls around her heart. When she was finished helping him this time, would he go again, happy to be released once more? Would he sit in his cave or wherever dragons sat, forgetting about the half-Japanese witch who ate her heart out over him?

  Saba sighed. No telling, with Malcolm. She brushed her fingers over the warmth of his skin, then she made herself slide out of bed and hit the shower. The hot water pouring over her body opened her eyes and loosened the stiff muscles that served as
another reminder of what she and Malcolm had done last night.

  Not only had he made love to her in the dining room, deeper and more satisfying than anything she'd experienced in her life, he'd rushed with her into the bedroom, thrown her to the bed, and sexed her even more furiously, a wild light in his eyes. The more she laughed and caressed him, the wilder he got, until he'd taken her to screaming climax.

  She blushed, knowing the neighbors must have heard them. She'd tried to stuff a pillow into her mouth to muffle her cries, but she couldn't quite get a hold of one, not with Malcolm growling and sliding in and out of her, pinning her to the bed.

  "The people at that party," he'd said to her, his voice grating. "They don't understand what sex truly is."

  "I think I'm figuring it out," Saba had replied, or tried to. What she mostly did was scream, and say, "Malcolm, don't stop!"

  She blushed again.

  The shower door slid smoothly open and Malcolm stepped in. Without speaking, he pinned her shoulders to the cool tile and pressed his body over hers, his erection sliding between her legs. He was already rigid and raw, responding to the pheromones that must be pouring from her body.

  "No," she half-whispered, half-moaned. "I have to go to work."

  "I have need of you, today," he said. "You will come with me."

  I dragon, you minion.

  "I need my job. I like my job. And tonight I'm going to the Japan center for tea ceremony class. I'm going to perform it during the Cherry Blossom Festival, and I definitely need the practice."

  The shower spray wet his hair and slid in droplets down his face. "I called your employer. He is one of mine, as you know, and he agreed to let me have you for the day."

  She drew back, but had nowhere to go but the cold wall behind her. "Oh, did he?"

  "He understands. And we will be finished in time for you to practice this tea ceremony. I would like to see you doit."

  She heaved an exasperated sigh. She had absolutely no intention of letting Malcolm take over her life again, but her body still thrummed with lovemaking, craving his touch. She leaned into him, closing her eyes as his palms roved down her arms and across her back to cup her buttocks. He lifted her toward him, covering her mouth in a long, possessive kiss.

  Her back pressed into the tile so hard she knew the pattern would imprint there. Malcolm opened her thighs and slid her legs around him, at the same time he pressed his ready arousal up into her. He didn't even need to get her warm and open for him; he entered her without resistance, and she could only rock her head back and love the blunt firmness of his sex pressing her open.

  "Malcolm," she murmured. She rocked her hips against his as much as the tight quarters allowed her to, squeezing him. The shower pounded on his back, fine spray landing on her face, which he licked from her skin as he kissed her.

  "My witch." His eyes were open, his gaze upon her, no looking away or retreating into ecstasy.

  He was so controlled, deciding she'd stay home from work with him, deciding when and where they'd make love with the same mathematical precision he used to navigate the streets of San Francisco or find people to do his bidding. Last night he'd finally let her touch him and consummate what they had, but still he was pleasuring her, calculating every move to have her come apart in his hands.

  "Damn you," she whispered, and he smiled faintly, as though knowing her thoughts.

  Wave after wave of orgasm rolled over her, and she stopped caring that he controlled every nuance of her life. If he deliberately wanted to make her feel this way, who was she to argue?

  At last he showed emotion when he came, the lines around his eyes tightening and a single raw sound emitting from his throat. Then he was kissing her and licking her skin, the scent of the lovemaking overlaying that of the shower and soap.

  Malcolm slid her wet body off his and turned her around to deposit her on the rag outside the shower. While he remained under the spray, soaking wet, he grabbed a large white towel and wrapped it around her. Holding the ends, he kept her in place while he deliberately and thoroughly kissed her.

  When he finally drew away, she stood a moment taking in his delectable body. He was wet from head to foot, hair slicked back from his face, the black hair on his body plastered to his chest, legs, and forearms. Only the hair at his base stood up in tight curls, his erection thick and dark, still not relaxed from their sexing.

  One sinewy hand rested on the shower door, ready to close it, but his gaze roved her own body in a gratifying way. "My witch," he said softly.

  Saba flicked a wisp of wet hair from her eyes and smiled at him. "My gorgeous dragon."

  He gave her another once-over, then took a step back, as though making himself focus on something else. "Dress yourself, and then we'll go."

  "Go where?"

  But Malcolm was closing the door, the hiss of the shower door cutting off her words. He cranked up the water, and steam rolled over the room to coat the windows and the mirror with thick condensation.

  Suppressing a sigh, Saba left the bathroom on shaky legs and opened her closet's louvered door to rummage for clothes.

  "I can't lie," she said out loud to herself. "This is much better than getting ready to go to work."

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  Typical of Malcolm, he wouldn't tell Saba where they were going, only led her to the bus stop then got them on board. The bus headed west toward the Presidio. He rode in silence, eyes flickering as he took in the city in which he'd spent a number of his exile years.

  "I remember the great earthquake in 1906," he murmured to her. "It is interesting to observe the changes to the city since then."

  "I'll bet," Saba replied.

  He did not elaborate in front of all the other passengers, thank the Goddess. When the bus reached Arguelo Boulevard, Malcolm signaled for a stop and led Saba off. As the bus lumbered away, Saba gave him a puzzled look. "We're near Lisa and Caleb's place. Is that where we're going?"

  "For now."

  Taking her hand, he led her along Arguelo toward California Street, climbing stairs to the door of the Edwardian row house where Lisa had the top-floor apartment, inherited from her Chinese grandmother.

  Malcolm drew back uneasily even before they reached the door, and Saba had to snake her arm around him and push the bell.

  "The mark of the golden dragon," he explained, "is deeply embedded here."

  "The dragon territory thing?" Saba had learned last summer that two dragons did not like to be anywhere near each other, and territory violations could result in life-and-death battles. A dragon did not lightly tread in another's space.

  "As you say, we have a thing. I'd not have come here at all if I didn't need to speak again to Lisa."

  "You could have invited her out to breakfast."

  "I did not want our conversation to be overheard, and I doubt the golden would let her go."

  Saba pressed the smooth doorbell again. "In any case, she's much more likely to be able to help you than me."

  "I asked her, when she granted me entrance to this world, what the spell was." Malcolm looked impatiently at the door. "She did not know."

  Saba's eyes widened. "Good Goddess, if Lisa didn't know, how do you expect me to find out?"

  Malcolm was saved from answering by Caleb's voice booming through the intercom. "Who visits here?"

  Saba leaned to face the speaker. "It's Saba. I hope it's not too early."

  "It is never too early for you, Saba." Caleb sounded delighted, then his voice lowered to a growl. "Malcolm is with you, isn't he? I can smell him from here."

  "I'd not come were it not important," Malcolm said. "Believe me," he added under his breath.

  "And I'd not let you in, did not Lisa tell me to," Caleb retorted. "Saba is always welcome."

  "Just open the door," Malcolm rumbled.

  The door buzzed and the lock clicked. Malcolm pushed it open and preceded Saba into the house. Beyond the foyer an ornate staircase curved around a lift that waited sil
ently on the second floor, Malcolm was too impatient to wait for it, and so he took the stairs two at a time, with Saba following.

  As they reached the ton of the last flight, Caleb threw open a door and caught Saba in a crushing hug. "Saba, I am pleased to see you," he announced to the building.

  Caleb, a golden dragon when in dragon form, was a warrior whose professed purpose in life was to fight and hoard treasure. Dragons maintained that they sought jewels and precious metals only in order to protect them. Jewels were live things cut out of rock by unscrupulous miners; dragons simply provided the orphaned stones a place that reminded them of their former homes.

  As a human Caleb was a tall, strong man, very much like Malcolm in build, with a mane of unruly golden hair and large blue eyes. The irises of his eyes were wider than a human's, filling them with deep azure.

  Caleb had an earthy sense of humor, loved television and pizza, and protected and adored Lisa his wife with unrivaled loyalty. He liked to ham up the part of warrior barbarian and was ruthlessly efficient with a sword, but Saba had seen his softer side. He used his magic to bring luck to all he came into contact with, rescued puppies, kittens and frightened children, and treated Lisa with a tenderness that broke Saba's heart.

  Right now Caleb's warrior strength squeezed the wind out of Saba in a bear hug, then he released her and ushered her inside. Malcolm just had time to follow them into the apartment before Caleb banged the door closed.

  "Lisa is in bed," Caleb said. "Would you like some orange juice?"

  Saba flushed. "I told you it was too early. You should have said she was still asleep."

  Caleb grinned, eyes sparkling. "I said she was in bed. I did not say asleep."

  "Oh." Saba's flush deepened and she moved toward the kitchen. She would have expressed amusement if she hadn't been conscious of the night of intense sex with Malcolm, not to mention this morning in the shower. She had no business teasing him.

  "If you want coffee, you will have to wait for Lisa," Caleb called after her. "I can only pour orange juice."