Happy.
“So,” she said when she’d opened her eyes to see him staring down at her. “It really is true. I’d almost begun to doubt it. But I felt it so strongly…”
With those words Lyre pulled back, a hint of anxiety in his eyes. A moment later, he had his phone in hand again and was typing.
“I need to say this, though: there is no guarantee. Tryst’s visions are accurate, but we can’t know with complete certainty that nothing will go wrong.”
“Stop,” said Trix, the vertical line reappearing between her eyebrows as she took the phone away from him, threatening to dash it against the far wall. “No more doubts. No more what ifs. I know this is right. And you know it too.”
As she spoke, the words struck directly him in the chest, altering his expression with each second that passed. In his eyes she saw calm set in, a beautiful, desperately quiet joy, interspersed with flashes of desire. She was getting through to him, slowly but surely. Taking control over his heart at last.
Closer
Trix inched her body towards him, pressing a hand to each side of his face.
“No more doubts, or you’ll kill me. I know what I want, and I know what I need. I also know exactly how much pain I can take. And so I know that if you ask me to leave you, I’ll refuse this time. Because I can’t take that, Lyre. I won’t; not now that we’re so close. I know that I never want to spend another day without you, not if there’s any chance that we can be together. You’re inside me now, without ever having kissed my lips. You’ve possessed me, somehow. So don’t refuse me this one pleasure at least, or you’ll ruin me for life. Kiss me, Dragon.”
Well, that was all he needed. Tryst’s vision, then these wonderful, beautiful words from his Hunter. His Seeker. His perfect Beatrix.
His large, powerful hands took her by the waist. Then, guiding themselves gently around to her back, pulled her body forward to meet his. Slowly, with a low growl of desire vibrating in his chest he moved in, his lips brushing for the briefest instant against her own. He pulled back, looking into her eyes as though to make sure she really was his. It was when he saw the look of encouragement on her face that he made the commitment to claim her at last, his lips crashing against hers. Soft, strong. Starving for the taste of her skin.
Trix’s arms wrapped around his neck, and in the moment when his tongue found her own, she let out an audible sigh. He might not have heard it, but she knew he could feel it. Her head was spinning, her body drawn downwards by all of gravity’s force. She’d gone to liquid in his arms, weakened by all the desire in the world surging through her at once.
He was hers. He really was.
In her joy she leapt up, wrapping her thighs around his waist even as his hands reached under her backside and pulled her up, pressing his body into hers. She could feel him through their clothing; his need pushing hard against her, his thick shaft throbbing with a deep ache for her body. He was so hard, and she was so, so wet for him.
And in that moment, without any more words exchanged, she knew that she had him.
Asserting that he was taking possession of her, Lyre bit her lower lip gently, satisfying a long-standing urge on his part to claim that luscious bit of her. Still holding her legs around his waist, he let out a soft laugh before turning to lower himself through the kitchen’s doorway. He carried her like that up the stairs into his bright bedroom, where a double bed draped in blue and white linens greeted them. A four-paned window looked out to the sea and the disappearing horizon.
Suddenly they were alone in the world.
And Trix was beginning to feel like she belonged in this place. This beautiful, distant escape of Lyre’s had become her escape, too. In an instant it had altered from her prison to the place where her life was beginning for a second time, only now it was more full, more exciting than ever before. She understood something she’d never known: what it was to feel so deeply for another person that she never wanted to lose him.
Slowly Lyre set her down on the bed, staring at her as he did so. When his hands had freed themselves he pulled his thumb to his chin and signed the word that he’d taught her a few nights before.
“Beautiful.”
Trix mirrored the motion, smiling up at him before pointing to his face. Beautiful.
She raised herself to her knees and inched towards her Dragon shifter, quietly demanding another sweet, sensual kiss. And without another word she pulled his shirt upwards, over his head, his dark hair a tangled, gorgeous mess about his face.
This was her first close-up look at his body. And dear God, it was more beautiful than she could ever have hoped for. Glorious lines of muscle, altering, ebbing and flowing with each breath he took, a trace of perspiration accentuating every inch of perfection.
Leaning back a little, she yanked her own t-shirt upwards and over her mane of red hair, tossing it behind her. Only a bra stood between them now, infuriating piece of fabric.
Lyre examined her for a moment, the most glorious, sweet, silly grin on his face as his eyes made their way over her breasts, then her belly. Then as though to express his full approval he leaned in, kissing a trail of heated flesh along her neck, her collarbone, his lips teasing the bare white skin at the tops of her breasts. Trix closed her eyes, absorbing the sensation. So good. Too good, if that was even possible. Erotic beyond measure, and so far beyond her imagining.
And yet it wasn’t enough. She wanted more; her body wanted more.
Her body wanted all of him.
Pulling his face up towards hers, she leaned in to his left ear and whispered, her breath hot on his skin. “I need you, my Dragon. I know you can’t hear my words, but you can feel them. Be with me now.”
Lyre pulled back, looking into her eyes. A crinkle revealed itself in the corner of his own eyes, followed by a broad smile on his lips. Slowly he reached behind her, unclasping her bra and pulling it away, a deep sigh escaping him. A moment of self-consciousness hit Trix when she saw his eyes move again to her breasts, the bra dropping away to reveal two delicate, dark pink tips, pleading with his lips to seek them out and to suck them.
But a moment later he was reaching into his pocket, and then typing.
Really? Now? she thought.
He showed her the message, the smile still on his face:
I hope you like having your nipples kissed. Because I intend to spend hours and hours…and hours…Frenching them.
She laughed, then pulled a finger up to his lips, then back to her right nipple, then her left. Any and all self-consciousness had passed. If you must, you must, she mouthed.
He slipped an arm around her waist and angled her backwards, down onto the soft linens, drawing one nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing her with the gentlest touch. He could feel the Dragon inside him settling, calming himself after years of searching for his mate.
Here she was. At last, he was about to claim his treasure.
Trix’s fingertips tangled in his strands of dark hair, trying to convince her that he was real—that this moment was real. That this astonishing being was really here, loving her body, arousing her, preparing to take her. And to give himself over to her. In response, the sensitive place between her legs began to ache in the most delicious way, throbbing for his touch. She felt as though she’d die of some sort of violent hunger if he didn’t find his way inside her.
He pulled himself up, leaning elbows on either side of her face, dark hair hanging in strands framing his eyes.
“I want you,” he mouthed in silence. “So much.”
“So take me,” she replied.
Her fingers wrestled with the button on his jeans, her hands forcing them downwards. Laughing, Lyre leapt into a standing position over her, one foot on each side as she pulled the jeans and his boxers towards his ankles. And a moment later when he’d stepped out of them, he was above her in nothing, a massive erection hovering over her body, its owner bending over to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling. Good lord, he was beyond enormous. How could he e
ven keep his balance with such a beast between his legs?
“Monty…Python,” Trix whispered. “That is a manaconda.” And for once, she was glad that he couldn’t hear her.
Delicately she reached her fingers up as he watched and stroked his hard flesh with the tips of her fingers. He rocked forwards, encouraging her to grasp him tight, and she followed his lead, strengthening her grip. The blood rushed through his veins in quiet pulses of excitement that hardened him still more. Oh, good boy.
He moved down to lay his knees on either side of her, the swollen head of his cock settling in the middle of her chest. Beautiful, succulent man. She squeezed her breasts together to envelop him, drawing a gorgeous moan from between his slightly parted lips as he rocked forward and back slowly, savouring the sensation.
She loved watching every bit of him, but it was his face that captivated her now. That beautiful, sweet, adoring face of his, those eyes that she could swim in. Something surged in her, a feeling she’d never experienced. Butterflies swarming, a warmth radiating from his body straight into hers. She’d fallen so hard, so fast, and it finally felt so, so right.
Needs
Lyre reached for her wrists as he knelt over her and pulled her hands away from her breasts, pinning them at either side of her head. Gently, so as not to hurt her. Playfully. He smiled down at her, at the perfection of this moment. Beautiful Beatrix. The way she looked at him. No woman had ever looked at him like that. Hell, no woman had ever looked at any man like that.
The sight of his hard cock lying on her chest, pointing directly towards her chin, was almost enough to make him shoot hot cream all over her. But her breasts—beautiful, sensual, perfect—called out for a mouth again, and those were his main concern at the moment. Down, boy. It’s time to tend to her needs. Those nipples were so sensitive, so beautifully responsive, and he gave himself the pleasure of easing down her body, his lips and tongue teasing one, then the other into tight, darkened peaks.
But there was another area that he wanted to explore, one that he’d wanted to taste since he’d first set eyes on her. And now that he had her at his mercy he’d do it. He’d taste her until she came for him. Show her the sort of ecstasy he wanted for her, again and again. But after that, he’d need to take her. To give himself over to her, to feel his cock, inch by inch, finding its way inside her. What a shattering, euphoric thought that was.
Letting her left wrist go, he reached down and pulled at the button on her trousers, then lowered her fly. For a moment he let her go entirely as he slipped the garment off, letting it fall to the floor. A moment later he was over her again, finding the waistband of her panties before slipping his hand down, heel of his palm seeking her clit. He pressed into her, watching her lips open in a gasp, her pleasure written all over her face.
And then his fingers were inside her, pushing deep, spreading her apart. It was then that he closed his eyes and let out a hard gasp of his own. She was so wet. Good lord, she was so aroused—for him, no less. Her body was begging to be taken. Begging for his engorged cock to sheath itself deep inside her.
He eased his fingers out, slipping them around her sensitive bud and rolling it between them, watching her face as she licked her lips, her breath heavy, her eyes shutting, her mind devouring the sensation. She didn’t need to speak—that was the true beauty of it all. Didn’t need to say a word to let him know how she felt.
Sliding down towards the foot of the bed he took her panties with him, pulling them over one foot and then the other, dropping them to the dark wood floor. He kissed his way up her right calf, then the left, then one thigh, then the other, nuzzling her ever so softly with his nose when he found the gorgeous strip of dark red hair between her legs. Pink flesh, the colour of a blooming rose, beckoned him and he gave in happily, offering a teasing stroke of his tongue.
Her hips rolled forward, approving of the sensation, and so he did it again. A lick of her slit, dipping quickly inside her, making her pelvis leap forward.
He drew her clit between his lips and sucked, eliciting another surge of those beautiful hips, her hands tangling in his hair while his fingers wrapped around her thighs, pulling them close to his face as he gave another long, deep suck.
Yes, she whispered. Oh, keep doing that. He could feel her voice; it didn’t matter what she was saying. He knew it was all good. He could sense the words, and a moment later he plunged his tongue inside her before drawing it up to find her clit again. She was close, he knew. So close to coming for him.
A hand slipped up her belly, seeking a nipple and pinching so, so gently as he licked, and this time she let out a loud cry. There was no one around to hear. No reason to feel self-conscious. And God damn, it was so fucking good to feel her let it out.
A moment later her hips shot up, her body trembling for him as the first wave crashed over her. Then another, and another, and he licked her until they’d passed, until she’d settled back down. And then he gave her a few more strokes, just to show her that he would never stop. He would pleasure her for days on end, if she so desired.
It was only when her hands pulled gently on the sides of his face that he moved up at last, and then he was over her again, eyes staring into hers, warm with desire. As he scanned her body, his gaze paused at her right hip. Then his hand followed, moving slowly, fingers tracing the outline of her tattoo.
“My mark,” he mouthed silently.
“Yes,” she said, reaching for his hand, grasping his fingers in her own. “Your mark. I’m yours.”
“Mine.”
“Do you have a mark?” She asked when his eyes had found hers again.
He shook his head, then manoeuvred himself to kneel next to her. Twisting his torso, he revealed his muscular back. At its base on the right side was a scar that looked like an oblong burn of some sort, as though he’d been branded with a rough stone.
“What is that?” she asked when he’d turned back to look at her. “What happened to you?”
He swept his palms together, pulling them apart to clench into tight fists.
“You destroyed your mark?” she asked. He nodded. “You thought you’d always be alone,” she added, “so you got rid of it.”
Another nod.
Trix hated the thought of it, of him hurting himself. Doing away with his own bloodline, as though he didn’t deserve to be a part of it. But there was no need for sadness anymore; they were together now. “Well, now we need to get you a new one,” she said, drawing a finger along his jaw, reminding him that things had changed. “Or not. A mark isn’t important, so long as we’ve bonded.”
The smile that spread over his lips was so filled with joy that she wanted to kiss him a million times. But instead, she took his hand and guided him over her body once again, positioning an arm on either side of her, his triceps rigid with strength and anticipation.
“I’m ready,” she told him. “I want to be with you.”
His length was already teasing her slit, glistening with her wetness. Hardening with each moment. But he was still gazing into her eyes, waiting for a final confirmation.
She nodded in response to the enquiring expression on his face. “Yes. Please. Make me yours, now. Claim me. Marks don’t matter. Nothing matters but us.”
The swollen head of his cock was ready, eager to enter her, and she could feel him parting her, ever so gently. She grasped his hips with her fingers, encouraging, unafraid. She was asking this of him. Demanding it, even, in spite of the small risk involved.
And so he swallowed his concerns and thrust hard, and all at once he was deep inside his lover. Fear and apprehension lingered within him, a fear of letting her down, of hurting her. But as his eyes sought hers out he reminded himself that they were taking the leap together, and at the very worst they’d be together at the end of it all.
At best, she’d remain exactly as she was: perfection. She would lose nothing, but she would gain his loyalty, his devotion. Forever.
Her hands were at his back as she drew
herself up to press her chest into his, nails digging into his flesh as she cried out in gorgeous agony. He’d stretched her beyond words, beyond comprehension. He knew that she felt pain, and yet the greatest comfort in the world, to feel him so deep inside her.
And as she yelled, he could feel her voice vibrate against him and pulled back to look into her face to see what she was saying.
“You’re so fucking huge!” she cried, laughing at her own words, her body shaking under his as he thrust again.
He watched her still, an expression of concern marking his features, but her own face was nothing but a bright, joyous smile. Yes, it was a wonderful, and she was nodding to confirm it. This is what I want, Lyre. I want you.
Easing himself out, he allowed himself to smile back before finding her lips with his. A soft, warm kiss, his tongue met hers before he tore back into her, sheathing himself deep.
Oh. So good.
He let out a sound then. A groan of pleasure, even as he kissed her again. He felt her lips smile against his mouth, and then he was grinning too, their foreheads touching, the kiss temporarily suspended. She pushed his chest back, forcing him to a nearly upright position, letting out a cry as he drew out and surged into her again. She wanted to show him that she was yelling, crying out in her sweet torment. And in response he yelled, too, loud and long, for her. To show her that he felt it, too. He ached for her. Pulsed for her. Trix laughed to hear him, happiness filling her from head to toe.
She arched her back, enhancing her own pleasure as he met the deepest reaches of her body, and in turn he began to move faster, harder, watching, his jaw set in a determined grin.
Hard, she mouthed. Hard, hard, hard. You won’t hurt me, Dragon.
He did as she asked, slamming into her, their bodies meeting with a vicious energy, her clit revelling in each hard thrust. Everything was beginning to build all over again, and even though she hadn’t imagined that it could happen, she was going to come again for him. Oh, wow.
Dragon Seeker Part Two Page 5
