Dragon Hunts

by Lizzie Lynn Lee

  That night, Braden had taken care of the aftermath. He and Curran had dragged the bloodied, unconscious Lorenzo and his goons to their cars and drove them to the ER parking lot. We didn’t hear anything from Lorenzo afterwards. I assumed Lorenzo and his men hadn’t been so gravely injured that it needed police involvement. If Lorenzo reported the incident to the authorities, I bet no one would believe that dragons had done that kind of damage to him. I could safely say that my ex was mortally afraid of Declan and realised he had to let me and Bobby go. Or he would face the consequence and the frightening wrath of Declan and his brothers.

  We went back to New York after our honeymoon and moved into the summer house in Alpine. Bobby was enroled in a private school and I was enjoying my new life as Mrs Cairne. Declan had just gone back to work for the last couple of days, when he’d suddenly come home before lunch time, hungry for afternoon nookie. Since Bobby was at school, we had the house to ourselves.

  I shifted one leg to the side, revealing my black fishnet hosiery. I did say I was playing a slutty secretary, didn’t I? My skirt was so short that I couldn’t bend over without parading the colour of my panties. My blazer was tight, moulded to the curves of my body. It had an alarmingly low décolletage that had my black lace bra peeking between the lapels. Even though Declan was playing a stern boss, he couldn’t keep his eyes away from my almost bursting breasts, thanks to my one-size-too-small padded bra.

  “No, sir. Is it about the reports you dictated?” I said. I shifted my gaze to the yellow manila folder. “I did everything like you asked.”

  Declan huffed impatiently. “You did a crappy job, Ms Knapp, like you always have. Typos. Misspelling. Sloppy grammar. What am I going to do with you?”

  I leant forward, thrusting my breasts up. “I’m terribly sorry, sir. Please, let me do it again.”

  He waved his hand dismissively. “I’m tired of your incompetence. I’m going to let you go.”

  “Please, sir. Don’t do that. I have my elderly mother to take care of. She’s depending on me.”

  “I can’t run a business with an inept secretary like you.”

  I pouted. Declan’s eyes glinted at my rouged lips. “Sir, I’m not totally inept. I’m good at other things, too.”

  “What other things?”

  “Will you let me keep my job if I show you my other…skills?”

  Declan pretended he was slightly interested. But I knew he could barely hold his urges. I just knew the look.

  Young cock.

  “Very well,” he said as if he was being generous. “Show me.”

  I slowly got up from the chair and stalked behind the desk. I tossed my hair and sighed. My chest rose and fell. Declan’s gaze was glued to it. I knelt before him, deliberately brushing my breasts on his knees. His body went rigid.

  I pushed his legs apart and settled myself right before his groin. I ran my hands over his black Versace slacks. His arousal made an impressive bulge, tenting the fabric with an unmistakably hard erection.

  “I may not be good with office work, but I assure you, I’m very good at this.”

  “What do you mean, Ms Knapp?”

  “Pleasuring a man.” I squeezed the bulge. His cock twitched. “Pleasuring you.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Let me show you, sir.” I unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. His erection strained against the briefs he wore. I pulled them down, letting the beast free. His cock bobbed obscenely, curving upwards. Fat, thick and long. I pressed my face to it and inhaled a lungful of his scent. He was fragrant with a musky, masculine aroma. A man in heat. I grabbed his shaft and gave him a wet lick from balls to tips.

  Declan tried not to whimper, but he wasn’t successful. He made a choked sound.

  “Mmm.” I smacked my tongue and wetted my lips with my saliva. “What do you think, sir? Do you like it?”

  Declan’s jaw twitched. “I don’t know. Do it again.”

  I dragged my tongue from base to crown. I nibbled, sucking on his sensitive flesh. I twirled my tongue and painted his hard cock with my saliva until he fidgeted in his seat. I clasped his shaft and plunged my mouth on his cockhead. I sucked him. Slowly. Passionately, until his body shuddered. He grabbed my head and fisted my hair as I deep-throated him. He groaned unintelligibly, ranting a string of incoherent mumbles. I popped him out of my mouth after I gave him a deep, sudden suck. Declan looked like he wanted to jump out of his skin.

  “Well? Am I good?”

  He spluttered. “Yes, you’re good.”

  I purred. “Then maybe you’ll like this.”

  Declan hissed when I unbuttoned my blazer. I wasn’t wearing anything underneath—just the brassiere. My breasts spilled out when I unclasped the hook of the bra. His eyes widened on my twins. Declan was a breast man.

  I cupped my breasts and pushed them upwards until they formed a very deep cleavage. Declan gripped the armrests when I pressed my breasts to his erection. I trapped his granite-hard shaft between my globes. Then, slowly, I fucked him with my breasts. Up and down. Again. And again, until he panted like a dog.

  “Christ. Jessie,” he mumbled, slipping out of character. “Shit. So fucking good.”

  I smiled teasingly. “Does this mean I’m not fired, sir?” I asked, staying true to my role.

  “No. You’re not fired.”

  “Can I have a raise?”

  He snorted. “Don’t push it.”

  “Aww.”

  Declan leant forward and crushed his mouth to mine. He kissed me greedily. I kissed him back with the same heat as he groped me all over. My breasts. My belly. My ass. When he couldn’t touch the juncture of my thighs because of the skirt, he broke the kiss.

  “Get up. Present yourself to me.”

  I got up and slid off my panties. I turned around, facing his desk, belly down.

  “No. The other way.”

  I turned again and spread my legs open.

  Declan snaked his hands to my pussy. “You’re wet. Are you always this wet, Ms Knapp?”

  I moaned. “No, sir. Only when I see you.”

  “You’re such a naughty girl, fantasising about your boss.”

  “How could I not, sir? You’re handsome and so sexy. I couldn’t help myself. Am I a bad girl, sir?”

  Declan grinned. “You’re a naughty secretary.”

  He parted my wet seam and found my entrance. He pushed a finger inside me. I tensed as he buried it to the knuckle until the pad of his palm crushed my clitoris. My pussy contracted around the intrusion as he finger-fucked me with such expertise.

  “Oh.” I writhed. “What are you going to do to me, sir?”

  “What I should have done a long time ago. Fuck you.”

  I whimpered.

  “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk for days.”

  “Please, sir, be gentle.”

  “Why should I? A naughty girl like you?”

  Declan pulled out his finger. He straightened his posture and pushed his pants all the way down to his ankles. He kicked them off. He thrust inside me a heartbeat later. His cock speared me open and he plunged until I felt beyond full. His thick shaft ploughed me until it hit my cervix. I gusted a long breath through my teeth.

  “God. You’re so tight, Ms Knapp.”

  I moaned. My pussy clenched around his shaft. “Does it please you, sir?”

  He grunted with satisfaction. “I love it.” He made a shoving motion, smashing his balls against my perineum. “Now, about that hard fuck…”

  I mewled in ecstasy when he lunged and yanked, thrust and pulled as hard as he could, so brutal and primal that he sent my mind into oblivion. Each stroke and pull was so savage and raw, the jackhammering thrusts reeling me into a deeper ecstasy. God. It was unbelievable. Each time. He loved me hard and fucked me good. I clung to him, trying to meet his slams. The pleasure climbed higher and higher…

  “Harder, Mr Cairne. I need. Oh. Just a bit. A little harder…”

  Declan swor
e and delivered what I needed. “Like this?” He pinned me on his desk and flooded me with a series of brutal fucks.

  “Yes, yes, a bit more…”

  He pounded me harder and faster until a knife-sharp orgasm tore through me. I screamed. The climax was so hard that I saw stars before my eyes. Declan pummelled another dozen thrusts into me before he surrendered and came inside me. His cock spurted his fertile seed in long spasms.

  We panted together as we descended from the high-octane ecstasy. I felt like I had run a marathon. I was winded. But Declan wasn’t. He had amazing stamina.

  He withdrew from me, trailing milky cream to my inner thigh and leg. I collected a dab and brought it to my mouth. A burst of salty flavour filled my palate. I loved the way he tasted. Creamy. Declan seemed to get a kick each time I did that. Maybe it was the affirmation he sought that I loved him, too. I did worship him. He was the centre of my life, one I couldn’t live without.

  “What time does Bobby get out of school today?” he asked, helping me stand.

  “Two-thirty.”

  Declan glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s only one. We still have one and a half hours to ourselves. Let’s move to the bedroom.”

  “But I have to start dinner. That pot roast won’t cook itself, you know?”

  “We’ll eat out.” Declan swept me off the floor. “Right now, I want to eat you up. Do we have whipped cream in the fridge?”

  Goody.

  Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:

  Private Sessions

  Lizzie Lynn Lee

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  New York

  The one thing that stole her breath the most was his smile.

  He had a killer smile. One that could make your heart skip a beat and, the next thing you knew, you were ready to drop to your knees, willing to do whatever he pleased. Of course, that wasn’t the only icing on the cake. The man was tall, well built, and looked as if he was the incarnation of the Greek god Apollo swathed in a black Versace sport suit. He looked neither young nor old. Perhaps he was in his late thirties or early forties—a true eye-candy man women drooled over and secretly fantasised about when they made love to their husbands or boyfriends. And, as if he had cast a spell over her, his smile alone made Chelsea forget her line for a second.

  “Hello, are you waiting for someone?” he asked.

  Chelsea scrutinised him closer. He must be her rented date. But she thought he was slightly different from his snapshot she’d seen at Margo’s office. This man had the same height. Same build. Same hair colour. Chelsea still wasn’t sure about it. She felt there was something missing and couldn’t quite put her finger on what. When Margo had shown the photos of her escorts, she’d been in a deep nervous wreck. Those handsome faces had begun to blur together after Margo had shown the fifth photo. Luckily, Margo had armed her with a password to identify each other. She cleared her throat and whispered, “Is love a tender thing? It is too rough…”

  The man blinked. Another smile followed. “Too rude, too boist’rous, and it pricks like thorn.”

  A surge of relief washed over her. The password matched. He was her date of the evening all right. “Well. You’re early.”

  “Am I?” His smile deepened. His light brown eyes twinkled. His clean-cut sandy hair complemented his lightly tanned complexion, making him look too sophisticated to be a gigolo.

  Chelsea glanced at her watch, forcing the growing anxiety into the back of her mind. The man stood closer than she would have preferred. She always felt uncomfortable when a man invaded her personal space, an annoying neurosis she tried to kick. “It’s six forty-five. I was expecting you at seven. Shall we go up now?”

  His eyebrows arched. “Up?”

  “Or do you prefer to have dinner first?” Chelsea cast a glance at her surroundings. The butterflies in her stomach wouldn’t go away. If this continued, she was afraid she was going to be nauseous and embarrass herself. “I personally would like to get this session ended before midnight. I have to catch an early plane tomorrow morning.”

  The man looked puzzled for a moment. Then a blank mask glossed over his face. “Sure.”

  “Fantastic.”

  They rode an elevator to the fifth floor where Margo had reserved a suite for the rendezvous. Chelsea fished the hotel keycard from her purse and slid it through the key reader of their reserved room. She pushed it open. The sight of ultimate luxury welcomed her. Chelsea was impressed. She didn’t want to think how much this room would cost if she had to pay it from her own pocket.

  Roxy Knight, her best friend and confidante, had given her a special gift for the anniversary of the day Chelsea was free from her abusive ex-husband, Dean. She didn’t have deep pockets like Roxy, whose husband was a banker. After her bitter divorce and long months spent on an emotional rollercoaster, she was just starting over again. New town. New apartment. And, soon, a new job.

  The hotel had given a complimentary fruit basket and a Champagne bucket. She turned to him, gripping the edge of the table to hide the creeping anxiety. “Would you like a glass of champagne?”

  “I’ll pour you some. Why don’t you get yourself comfortable?”

  “I am comfortable.”

  He smiled again. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.” Chelsea sat on a chaise longue. He went to the table and uncorked the champagne and she wondered why a man like him would be doing a job like this. He didn’t look like a gigolo at all. The man could easily be mistaken for a businessman from the way he carried himself. There was an air of arrogance in him. Elegance. Power. And dominance. And she knew all about power and dominance. Her ex Dean had been anything but. “What’s your name?” she called out.

  He poured two glasses of champagne and handed one to her. “What’s yours?”

  “Call me Anna.” Chelsea took the glass and had a sip. She thought Anna was an appropriate name for spending a night with a total stranger like him. Generic name. Totally forgettable.

  “Just Anna? Like Madonna or Cher, you just go by Anna?”

  “Just Anna,” she echoed. Margo said she didn’t have to give out her personal information if she didn’t feel comfortable with it.

  He sat beside her. “I’m curious why you’re being so secretive? Let me guess, you work for the government.”

  She snorted.

  “A spook?”

  “Funny guy, but let’s cut to the chase, shall we?”

  “Okay.”

  Chelsea took a deep breath and forced herself to say the words she’d rehearsed a hundreds time before. “I’m pretty vanilla, not really into kinky stuff. Not into pain. Not into icky stuff either. All in all, I’m an easy girl to please.”

  “I see.”

  “I…uhm.” Chelsea made an erratic gesture when words got jumbled in her throat. She quickly composed herself. “This sounds silly, but would you like to do it in bed, or do you think in here would be just fine?”

  His sensuous lips twitched into an amused smile. “How about we start over? Let’s begin with your full name first. I really want to know you…” Her handsome date leaned closer. “Very intimately…”

  Sean Acosta couldn’t believe what had happened to him in the past ten minutes. One second, he’d decided to walk up to a pretty woman’s table to ask her if she was waiting for someone, and the next thing, she had mistaken him for a male prostitute. And all because he had accidentally answered her riddle. Who would think to pick a famous Shakespearean quote as a password? Shakespeare and Italian opera were his guilty pleasures.

  Sean was torn.

  If he explained who he really was, he was afraid she would freak out and take off. Or worse, if her date showed up, he’d never be able to see her again. She had been nervous and looked very cautious. It seemed picking up a gigolo wasn’t her regular thing. Sean decided to play along. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, but the moment he saw her, he knew he must have her. The impulse was overwhelming—he felt like an addict who
had fallen off the wagon.

  She gave him a wan smile, twirling her champagne. Her face flushed from the alcohol. Sean guessed she was a light drinker. Earlier, she had had a glass of martini that was half finished. Now she had had a couple of sips of champagne. Sean didn’t want her drunk, so he grabbed her glass and put it on the coffee table. He inched closer. She smelt nice. Her perfume was tea rose, nothing fancy, but he liked it very much. Her own scent and the perfume made a heady combination. This woman was one intoxicating sweet delight.

  “Now, your name?” Sean pressed.

  She blinked. “Didn’t Margo tell you?”

  Margo, Sean noted. Must be the pimp. “No.” He played along. “Margo just gave me the password and where to meet you.”

  “Ah.”

  “Well?”

  “Well.” She pondered as if divulging her name was a life-changing decision. “My name is Anna Carson. Yours?”

  “Anna is a pretty name. What do you do?”

  “You’re asking a lot of questions. Are we going to fuck soon or is it going to be another boring interview?”

  Sean laughed. “Has it been a while since you’ve been with a man?”

  She let out a shy grin.

  “Has it?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Isn’t that obvious?”

  “I…uhm. A year or so.”

  “That long?”

  She shrugged. “Yeah.”

  “A beautiful woman like you? I find it hard to believe.”

  “I…just…recently divorced. Well, not recently. About a year ago, but I’m just starting over now. It’s complicated.”

  His curiosity mounted by the second. “Was it another woman?”

  A cringe broke over her pretty face. “No, no. He’s in prison.”

  “Prison?” Sean hadn’t expected to hear that.

  “Do we have to talk about him? I’m really not comfortable with the subject.”

  “Forgive me. You’re an enchanting woman. I wish to know more about you.”

  A tinge of blush reddened her cheeks. “There’s nothing exciting about me.”