Desired by the Dragon: A Shifters in Love Fun & Flirty Romance (Mystic Bay Book 1)

by Isadora Montrose

  His heart turned to ice. “It’s a little early to regret our marriage.”

  “Not our marriage. Having a secret marriage. Have you ever tried to keep a secret in Mystic Bay?”

  “I’m concealing my identity, remember?”

  “And so far Lloyd and Wally have both made you. And the mermaid shifter at the Crab Hut. Lloyd has kept his mouth shut. But Wally and the Merryman girl have probably both told anyone who will stand still to listen that you’re a hunter.”

  “Shift.” She was right. It had seemed pretty funny when little Hop-along Babcock had challenged him in defense of the fair maiden, but he was beginning to realize that if he didn’t demonstrate early and often that Moira was safe and happy in his bed, under his wings, he was liable to be lynched.

  Dragons looked after their mates. He would die for Moira. But he didn’t think Babcock would be impressed if he told the bunny he would kill or be killed to keep Moira safe. Probably just convince Old Hop-along that he was a big, bad savage. That was the trouble with tremblers. They were scared of their own shadows, let alone the shadows cast by hunters.

  But tonight, job one was to make sure Moira enjoyed her first time in his bed. She was shaking in those silly pale pink pumps she was wearing. Which was ridiculous. He was about to make her one happy, utterly satisfied fairy. If only he could figure out how to get her to unwind.

  “Relax,” he said. “I’m not going to ravish you until I’ve eaten.”

  She jumped. And then smiled sheepishly. “I guess I am a little tense.”

  “Performance anxiety,” he said. He heaped lobster and salad on his plate. “But you need to eat to keep up your strength.”

  Her eyes flashed. Excellent. He shoveled lobster into his mouth to keep from laughing.

  “Are you sure that you are up to me? I bet I’m your first fairy.”

  “You certainly are. Lot of firsts tonight. Eat, my darling, you’ll need all your resources.”

  She took a small bite. Chewed and looked at him. She took a sip of champagne. “What about you?” she challenged him.

  “It’s different for me,” he teased deadpan. “You being a virgin and all, you’ll never know what you’re missing, so I don’t have to worry.”

  She forked up her meal and he could see her evaluating his words. She was a little bit turned on by his joke, but not yet loose enough to have snappy repartee on the tip of her tongue. He prodded her again. “Have you given any thought to how you’re going to please your new lord and master?”

  She waved a hand. He was instantly blindfolded and gagged. Moira’s soft giggle floated in the air. “I may never have done this,” she said. “But I have a few fantasies of my own.”

  “Mmph.” He made no move to remove either restraint, although his hands were unbound.

  “What was that?” His gag had vanished, but not his blindfold.

  “That,” she said imperiously, “is what happens to dragons who pull the wings off fairies.” His eyes were uncovered just as instantaneously as they had been covered. “Eat your supper.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He dug in. Looked across the table. Moira had regained her serenity and was eating with her customary enthusiasm. Just watching her eat was stimulating. Not that he needed much when he was close enough to breathe in her scent.

  “I’m ready for dessert,” he announced. He gave her a lascivious leer.

  “Okay. Let’s just stick these dishes on the counter.”

  He leaned over. “I’m in the mood for fairy,” he growled. “Let’s find out what your love muffin tastes like.”

  “My love muffin!” She began to laugh.

  “What would you call it?” he asked with another over-the-top ogling glance.

  No more laughing. “My pussy.” Her face was red.

  “That too. Let’s go play doctor. I’ll show you mine, if you’ll show me yours.”

  “Your manly staff?” she teased.

  “We dragons call that a dick,” he informed her gravely. “Or a dong.”

  “Not a cock?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He held out his hand. “Be gentle with me.”

  She giggled. “I guess I am being silly.”

  “Nope. Big changes ahead. Not to mention having sex with me. A life-changing experience.” He tugged her toward the bedroom. “That’s enough to give any female palpitations.”

  Her giggles increased. Normally, he wasn’t a fan of giggling. But he was pretty sure Moira’s fit of the giggles was a symptom of her nervousness, rather than an indication of a childish approach to sex. “You’ll have to tell me what you like,” he said.

  She dug in her heels. “I’ve never done this – remember?”

  He picked her up and carried her into her bedroom. It was lovely. Serene. Modern. Not at all the prissy bower he had imagined. But a soothing space that made him feel welcome. And thank goodness the bed, while small, was not fairy-sized. He dumped her on it. Her skirts frothed around her shapely legs. He caged her with his arms and kissed her.

  “Never touched yourself, my darling?” He shook his head. “Never? Not in what, thirty years?”

  “Sixty-two.”

  “What?”

  “I’m sixty-two,” she said clearly.

  That rocked him. “Wow. But my question stands. Are you truly untouched?”

  “Of course not. But that isn’t sex.”

  “Sure it is.” He licked his lips ostentatiously. “Now how do I get you out of this thing?”

  She snapped her fingers and her elaborate gown vanished, leaving her in a lace bra and panties, and looking even more scared. Lovely, ripe, womanly. But frightened. That washed the starch out of his manly staff all right.

  “That’s just wrong,” he told her. “Put your clothes back on. I get to undress you myself.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “Trust me, you’ll enjoy it too.”

  “All right.” The dress reappeared. She rolled over and presented him with a row of minute pearl buttons that ran from the edge of her gown past her bottom.

  “This could take a while,” he told her happily. He knelt over her and set to work.

  “Or not.” Her voice was muffled.

  “We have all the time there is, sweetheart. Lie back and think of West Haven.”

  That produced another round of giggles. “I’m on my front,” she gasped.

  “Hmm. You tell me if I do anything you don’t like.”

  “What if you do what I like?”

  “I intend to. You can moan or something. I’ll be listening.” He ran his forefinger under the lace edge of the bodice, and dipped down to tickle her vertebra. “Your skin is like satin,” he murmured before he replaced his finger with his lips and tongue.

  She jumped. “What are you doing?” she squeaked.

  “Foreplay. Relax.” He popped the first little button. It was stiffer than it looked and revealed about a quarter inch more skin. He kissed it and blew softly where his lips had damped. Moira rewarded him by squirming into the bedding and purring. It took a long time to move down her spine, and his own breathing was more than a little ragged when he got to her rump.

  Her lacy panties were filled out just right. He cupped one blushing globe, gave it a squeeze. “Come up onto your knees,” he said.

  “You’re kneeling on my skirts, I don’t think I can move.”

  He adjusted himself and she came up onto all fours. He slipped the dress down, cupped her breasts through the lace bra and felt their weight. Her skin was moist and her nipples were stiff. “Make it vanish,” he instructed.

  The dress disappeared. So did her bra. He collapsed onto the bed and rolled her on top of him.

  “You’re still fully dressed. Do I get to play valet, too?”

  “I guess,” he croaked. He was way past ready. His cock was about to burst into flames. But he supposed Moira got to enjoy herself too.

  “How does this work?” She pulled at his tie and tightened it to strangling point.

  He c
overed her hands with his. “Not like that. Let me. Or better yet, use magic. I’m feeling kind of impatient myself.” He tossed the tie away.

  She shook her head. Her breasts bobbled. “Turnabout is fair play,” she announced as she sat up on his belly and began to unbutton his shirt. “You’re hairless!” She giggled and smoothed his pecs with trembling fingers.

  His whole body tensed at her touch. Waves of pleasure spread in intense ripples through his body straight to his heart – and his cock. “Dragons are.”

  “But you have such a heavy beard!”

  “Yeah. It’s a curse.” He put his hands on her waist and ran them down to her hips and back, savoring the soft suppleness of her pearly flesh.

  She kissed the hollow of his throat, tasting it with her tongue. “You taste salty. Musky.”

  “Probably.” Did she like that?

  She kissed him there again and lapped a little lower, so he guessed she did. It was his turn to buck and twist. She laved his nipples and rolled the stiff points between thumb and forefinger. Another electric current ran down to his dick. It was already fully erect, but somehow the stupid thing sucked up even more blood. If this went on much longer, he was going to black out.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Moira~

  Her fear had vanished. This was Quinn. Big. Hard. Strong. Quinn who made her feel safe and cherished. She knew his dick was hard and that his legs and belly muscles were tense because he was fully aroused, but he appeared content to let her set the pace. And she was by no means ready.

  She was excited. No question. Her pussy had begun pulsing gently as soon as he started to undo all those buttons. His hands were kneading her butt and hips in time to the pulse in her pussy – as if he could sense the blood beating there. But still something was missing. She kissed his nipples and felt him jerk. His hands tightened on her hips.

  “Easy, Romeo. I’m not done.” She scooched down until her legs were spread on either side of his torso and her open sex was rubbing against his six-pack.

  Quinn eased a finger under the lace and tugged. The lace tore and he tossed the panties aside. He was such a pirate. But a pirate with a difference.

  “May I touch you?” he whispered.

  “Where?”

  “On your pussy.”

  “Yes.”

  “Raise up.”

  She lifted herself. He stroked her bush with the back of his fingers. Brushed between her legs. “Cotton wool and silk,” he whispered. He drew his fingers under her nose and her scent filled her nostrils. He smelled his fingers and sighed. “The perfumes of Arabia are not sweeter than the smell of my fairy bride.”

  That was sweet and kind of mushy. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “And now, fairy princess, do I get to taste?”

  Oral sex. That had always sounded so intimate and a bit intrusive. She gulped.

  “Trust me. You’ll love it, sweetheart. It’ll get you hot in a hurry.” He sounded his usual arrogant self. The supplicant lover had disappeared.

  “I don’t think so,” she said.

  “Touching is okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “But not kissing?”

  “Kissing is okay.”

  He chuckled. “I’ll stick to kisses then.”

  One moment she was astride him, the next she was on her back with her legs on his shoulders and he was tracing her sex with fingers that struck sparks. Lightning flashed through her veins and her blood pounded harder. She wriggled and he stopped.

  “Don’t stop,” she cried.

  He kissed her muff and continued his leisurely exploration. Everything inside her clenched tighter and tighter. “Can I put a finger inside you?”

  “Yes, yes.” Her head thrashed from side to side and her feet dug into his back.

  “Easy, babe.” His forefinger slid in half an inch. He circled her passage. “Like that?”

  “Hmm.”

  He moved a little higher. Circled, found the ridged and swollen place what he was looking for and curled his finger. Did it again. And again.

  She shrieked and splintered. Her pussy exploded with rapture. She flew into a thousand parts. When she opened her eyes, Quinn was grinning down at her and she was beneath him.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “Come inside me.” She spread her legs.

  He lifted her by the buttocks and pressed his cock into her swollen pussy. It was a tight fit. His face was a grim mask as if the slowness pained him. She was seized by another fit of the giggles.

  “Cruel woman,” he groaned. He press forward a little more.

  Her pussy was slick with her juices, but he was so big she wondered if this was going to work. Maybe there was a good reason hunter-fairy matches were a bad idea. As if he read her mind, he kissed her softly, tenderly, with none of the urgency she felt in his hard body.

  His tongue glided slowly along hers. He breathed into her mouth. Stole her exhalations and shared his own. She lost track of where her mouth ended and his began. She barely noticed when he pressed into her a little further and then a little further. It was like some seductive dance. A ritual that she knew as well as he did.

  “I love you,” he cried and thrust deeply.

  She wrapped her legs around him and clung to his narrow, muscular hips. “I love you, husband,” she answered.

  And then they were dancing. Or flying. His arms were around her. He was chanting her name as if that was the spell that would grant his every wish. She was intoning his as if that would help her reach another pinnacle. When he flooded her core, she felt fresh waves of release spill through her like a tsunami.

  His arms tightened around her. He rolled them onto their sides. They fell asleep still joined.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Quinn~

  Moira was still a woman when he woke. As he was still a man. He wondered what had gone wrong. Moira should have been transformed into a dragoness by their lovemaking. All his life, he had heard tales of wedding nights. Of dragons awakening to shredded sheets and their radiant and transformed mates.

  His own first shift had come upon him in his sleep. His mattress and sheets utterly destroyed by his sharp new scales and talons. It had taken months before he had sufficient control that he only turned when he chose to. And a lot of destroyed bedding. So what had happened to his virgin? His ex-virgin?

  He woke her with kisses. She mumbled sleepily but returned them eagerly.

  “Are you sore?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  Shift. “Then let’s go flying.”

  “Flying?”

  “Yeah. We can get dressed and go out to the cliffs by Shoreside.” She could ride on his back and he would dance for her. For his mate. For transformed or not, Moira was his mate. His fated bride.

  “I could use some more sleep,” she protested. “I don’t know what I did to make me so tired.” But she sat up and a pink satin robe materialized and veiled her luscious curves. Dang.

  He heard her shower turn on. He went out to the kitchen to make coffee. He had a feeling his fairy went nowhere without caffeine. And he liked his Joe in the morning too. Her snappy red coffee maker was out of place in the white bead-board kitchen, but he had one much like it in storage. He set to work.

  Moira came into the kitchen fully dressed. She wore her jeans and T-shirt like armor. Her face flamed when she saw him. “You’re naked,” she accused.

  He looked down. His dong was pointed right at her. He sighed theatrically. “Yeah. Sully magicked my clothes away. You magicked the replacements. I have nothing but that smock to wear.”

  “It’s insanitary,” she spluttered.

  He was suddenly fully dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Shorts too. Only his feet were bare. He stalked his wife. Picked her up and kissed her. Just a good morning kiss. But his cock poked her.

  “Is that what they call a morning erection?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.

  “Nope.” He nuzzled her ear. “That’s what they call
a Moira phenomenon.”

  “Oh.”

  He set her down and poured them both coffee. Moira got the cream from the fridge.

  “The champagne has gone flat,” she said.

  He shrugged. Last night, he had had better things to do than worry about keeping bubbly bubbling.

  “So when do I become a dragoness?” she asked.

  He gulped. “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean? I thought having sex was the trigger?”

  He could feel his face getting hot. “Me too. But either I did it wrong – and I am willing to keep trying until we get it right – or I’m firing blanks.”

  “Blanks? Oh.” She sipped from her mug. Looked squarely at him. “I truly was a virgin until last night.”

  That had not occurred to him. He covered her hand. Smiled his cockiest smile. “I know.”

  “Does that mean we won’t have babies?” Her voice was level but sorrow lay beneath the calm words.

  He squeezed the hand below his. “Maybe. Probably. But I just don’t know.”

  “Last night you said you loved me.” Her eyes were huge gray pools of hurt.

  “I did. I do.” He placed a hand over his heart. “I could not love you more if you were the mother of my twelve daughters.”

  She choked. “That’s really romantic,” she said dryly.

  He had thought so. Her expression made him doubt that she was speaking the truth. “You finished? Let’s go flying, my love, and greet the dawn.”

  The sky was still gray. A few wispy clouds floated like pale pink fronds above the horizon. The wind blew off the black ocean into their faces.

  “I’m going to shift,” he said. “You climb onto my back. We’ll soar together.”

  “How will I stay on?”

  He laughed. “You’ll think of something.”

  “Leather straps come to mind.”

  “Ooh. Bondage.” He began to take his new clothes off and fold them. “You might need a saddle too. My spine spikes are sharp.”

  Moira nodded. “Why are you undressing?” she asked.

  “Because if I shift fully clothed, if I don’t take my clothes off first, I will have nothing to put on when I return to human form.”