Scorched

by Lizzie Lynn Lee

  “I’ve longed to hold you like this. You were my first crush,” he whispered.

  “Too bad you had a funny way of expressing it.”

  “I was a stupid kid.”

  Molly placed her palm on Tristan’s chest. His heart thundered, like hers. His skin was also feverish. They said full-blooded dragons were very passionate during lovemaking. She was curious to find out whether it was true.

  She gazed straight into his eyes. “What about now? Do you still have that crush, or did you help me because you’re feeling guilty?”

  “I’ve always had a thing for you. I don’t indiscriminately sleaze my way into a woman’s panties if I don’t have a romantic interest in her.”

  His erection felt hot on her belly as a testament to what he’d just said.

  Molly slipped a hand down his belly and touched his cock. Good lord! He was bigger than she’d expected. Way bigger. Long and thick as well. He could kill a woman with that. She bet the woman wouldn’t mind, though.

  She encircled her hand around the base of his cock. Thumb met forefinger. Almost. His sweet cock pulsed. Once. Twice. It became impossibly harder. She started imagining having that cock inside her. Her deranged ex was the only man she’d ever slept with, and he was human. She’d heard sex became a whole new game when one was making love to one’s own species. Even though she was only a quarter dragon from her mother’s side, she still had dragon blood.

  Could that be the reason she reacted this way toward him?

  Her blood was calling for him.

  She felt it in every cell.

  Hypnotic. Demanding.

  Urging.

  Tristan lowered his head and kissed her. Slowly. Open-mouthed. He licked her lips. Licked her teeth. The roof of her mouth. A hello. An intimate greeting. He placed his hands on her shoulders and drew her body closer, trapping his cock and her hand in between their flesh.

  It felt so hot. Throbbing. Mind-numbing. Just like his kiss.

  She clasped her hand on his shaft and squeezed him. Gently. Then a little harder. A trumbling growl escaped his masculine throat.

  Tristan trailed kisses on the side of her cheek and dragged a sensuous, unhurried wet lick from her neck to the back of her ear. Her breath stalled as a shiver of pleasure rippled throughout her body. She discovered that part of her was very sensitive. Her toes curled when he finished with a slow suck of her earlobe. The pièce de résistance. A cherry on top. That suck alone tugged her heartstrings like a pulse. A subterranean rumble followed. She gasped. Eyes wide. She was ready to crash with him. To the pit of fire. The core of the brimstone.

  She clasped his cock and stroked him. Again. Harder.

  He swore. In a good way. “You’re driving me insane, Molly.”

  He bit her neck. She yelped. The pain burst into another shade of pleasure. He sucked her flesh as if he wanted to put a mark on her that water couldn’t wash. She didn’t mind. She’d be happy to wear those hickies as a badge of honor.

  “Tristan,” she breathed out. She was more than ready. Fuck me, please. Maybe he’d take her out of the water, lay her on the sandy embankment and claim her properly. But she couldn’t bring herself to ask him that. There was a little hesitation within her. Despite the intimacy of this situation. Despite where this was ultimately heading.

  As if he read her mind, he slid his hands onto her ass, arms under her thighs, and lifted her body up. The buoyancy of the water had a heady effect on her. The sky spun momentarily, as if the world had come off its axis, and it was followed by a rushing, sweet, champagne-bubbling euphoric rush to her head. Their skin grazed. Slicked. His cock was no longer on her belly. Its head was on her pussy. On her swollen sex lips.

  On her opening…

  Molly took it as a cue. She wrapped her arms around his neck and lowered herself onto his erection. The girth of his cockhead felt alarming. Her sexual muscles contracted as if denying the delicious intrusion.

  Tristan sighed. She sighed. But she was determined to have him inside of her. Molly tried again, but his cock just slid off. This was problematic. She hadn’t done it in a while.

  Tristan let out a sound of frustration. He laughed into the hollow of her throat. “Are you teasing me?” he asked in a hoarse voice. “If you are, please don’t. I can’t take it any more…”

  “I’m not.”

  “Well then.” Tristan put her back on her feet. He steered her to a nearby boulder, pinned her against it, pushed her thigh up and positioned himself on her pussy. The crown of his cock brushed the hood of her clitoris briefly and nudged her opening. He thrust in, spearing her cunt open with his thick cock.

  She instinctively clawed his shoulders, her shrill cry cutting through the open air. He grunted, seemingly half-happy and half-frustrated. The fierce focus and sheer determination painted on his face looked almost scary, but she didn’t want him to stop. No, not ever. “Push. More. Give me more,” she thought, almost deliriously, not realizing that she’d uttered that out loud.

  He might have said something, perhaps her name or another exclamation, but all she could feel was that she was almost bursting. Beyond full. Yet it was so damnably good it should be a sin. God! Jesus! Buddha! Tristan had shoved his cock all the way to the base, and she could feel his balls pressed against her perineum.

  She let her legs float as he tightened his large hands on her buttocks, pulling her against his body as if he was looking for a deeper penetration. But there was no more to give. His cockhead hit her cervix, and the thrilling sensation momentarily knocked the air out of her lungs. She gasped for breath, trying to adjust from the onslaught. That was when she noticed his eyes. His dragon eyes.

  Luminous. Burning.

  “Molly,” he said in a husky whisper. “I want you to be my mate.”

  What? Her thoughts flitted to his family, which came from an unbroken old bloodline. His father would never agree. For a dragon, a mate was even more sacred than being a spouse. Even Tristan’s old man, the patriarch of the family had never taken a mate. Just a wife. And plenty of flings.

  “But your dad—”

  “I’m not my dad. I want you. And only you.”

  She gazed straight into his eyes. Very tricky. Asking her such question when he had her where he wanted her. When he was deep inside her and she knew she’d be mad if he decided to stop, ending the intertwined pleasure before it reached its zenith.

  It was delicious blackmail.

  Molly swallowed hard. “If I say no, are you going to stop?”

  He grinned. “No, but I won’t stop pursuing you until you say yes.”

  “Well then, Tristan Cadreinth, make me fall in love with you.”

  His eyes widened, becoming even more luminous. He kissed her. “Just you see. I’ll fill your head with so much of me that you can’t think about anything else.”

  “Ah.” His declaration sounded so unyieldingly sweet. “I’d like to see that.”

  His cock pulsed inside her, and she shuddered with delight. She choked the neck of his virile flesh with her feminine muscles.

  “Fuck! Christ!” he swore. “Again.”

  Molly smiled and tightened her pussy around his rock-hard cock. Tristan visibly shivered as if he were marveling at the sensation.

  Then he moved, fucking her.

  “Tristan…”

  He ambushed her with more dizzying kisses. His tongue in her mouth. Dominating. Plundering. The kiss was as greedy as his fucking. Pleasure built with every stroke. The friction. The slippery wetness. Everything was so good. Wickedly good. Since when did lovemaking feel like this? Oh God. This was insane. The pleasure she’d experienced before was magnified a thousand-fold. She clung on to his shoulder. On to his neck. She fisted his too-short hair.

  She didn’t want to come yet.

  No. She wasn’t ready.

  Please, stay a bit longer.

  This was too mind-bogglingly good. Yes. More. But she couldn’t stave it off any longer. Her body tensed. Tristan, Tristan, Tristan…
>
  A mewl-like noise curled out of her throat. Then, she came. The spark of pleasure struck like lightning. The devastating impact hit her like a hurricane. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She exploded. Her ears rang. It was like an almost blackout.

  Like dying.

  She might have seen Nirvana.

  She was enlightened.

  “Oh baby, you’re so fucking beautiful when you come like that.” Tristan watched her while she orgasmed. He looked mesmerized. He’d stopped moving to observe her, a hand planted on the back of her head, as if he didn’t want to miss the sight.

  Her pussy quivered around his hard cock. She trembled all over. She didn’t think she’d ever experience a climax of that magnitude. That mind-shattering.

  It was a revelation.

  Tristan, what are you to me? Why did you make me this way? she thought.

  It scared her and thrilled her at the same time.

  Do you feel the same way too, Tristan? Do you?

  Can you explain what this is? This new, alien feeling?

  “Baby…” Tristan nipped at her lower lip and breathed out on her mouth, his voice raw. He then fucked her with rapid, short thrusts until she came again. Another blinding pleasure zapped her with ferocious intensity. As her pussy contracted, Tristan also climaxed, inside her, his cock spasming more than a dozen times.

  Molly sobbed in a breathless cry.

  They kissed and kissed as twilight descended on the mountain, bathing them in an orange glow.

  She wished that moment would last forever.

  Chapter Seven

  Molly woke a few hours later to find she was alone. Tristan wasn’t sleeping beside her. She guessed both of them had dozed off after their wild romp in the spring. She’d taken another dip into the water before changing clothes and retiring into the tent. He did the same thing. Before she knew it, she’d fallen asleep just like that.

  Where is he? she wondered.

  She crawled to the tent opening and unzipped the flap. Tristan was right. The night on the mountain was so dark, she could barely see anything. The tree growth on the mountain formed a thick canopy, preventing any light penetrating to the forest floor. And in the clearing where they camped, she couldn’t see the moon because dark clouds completely blocked the sky. Feeling groggy, she fished out a Zippo lighter from inside her flannel shirt. She flicked once, twice before a squiggly flame illuminated her surroundings. She couldn’t see Tristan anywhere. She resisted the urge to call him, afraid her voice would attract unwanted attention. After all, she was the one the madman wanted.

  Hey, how about this, huh? He’s the one who always said to never leave his sight, she mused. She climbed out from the tent and straightened her posture. Suddenly, she needed to go to the bathroom. Her bladder didn’t want to compromise. She’d had too much to drink during dinner.

  She flicked the lighter again and carefully threaded through the small path toward the pool. Her thumb felt hot from holding it too close to the flame. She wished she didn’t need to use the lighter, but the path around her was pitch dark. She wasn’t like others who could see in the dark. As an eldritch, she was as useless as a male nipple when it came to the power department.

  The wind blew rather hard.

  The trees rustled around her, whispering like a seductive lover.

  She noticed that she wasn’t afraid at all. In fact, she felt like she belonged in nature. Maybe the dragon part of her was taking over. Normally, she didn’t like nature. She hated bugs, reptiles and all manner of creepy crawlies that one encountered when hiking in the mountains. So far, nothing had bothered her—not even a mosquito or crickets. It seemed the lesser creatures of the animal kingdom had gone into hiding and didn’t dare make a sound. Maybe because the Big Hunt was on right now.

  She looked around, and loneliness weighed on her out of nowhere. Where’s Tristan? she asked herself again.

  The rendezvous point remained silent and unoccupied. Where’s everybody? They were supposed to meet up here. They probably hadn’t caught David yet. Or David’s henchman. Yeah. David wouldn’t do these things himself. He didn’t have the stamina to run around the town, spreading terror in his wake.

  Molly let go with her thumb and the surroundings became dark. She walked blindly for a few seconds. Too bad a flashlight wouldn’t work on the mountain. A flashlight used a battery, and that kind of thing wouldn’t work in this lonely place.

  Something was in her path, and before she realized it, she tumbled down epically.

  What the hell?

  Groaning, Molly flicked the lighter with a trembling hand. The stupid thing wouldn’t light right away. Her thumb blistered. When it finally lit up, she got the shock of a lifetime.

  She’d stumbled over Tristan’s body.

  “Tristan!” Molly crouched over him and checked his body. Tristan had been shot in the chest. Twice. “Tristan! Tristan!” She tried to wake him, but he only growled quietly.

  Oh God, no. What do I do?

  Blood soaked his shirt. She decided to tear it open and check his wound. She brought the lighter close to his chest, examining his wounds.

  “Tristan! Tristan! Do you hear me? Wake up, damn it!” Desperation and dread filled her to the brim.

  Molly placed her hand on his carotid artery, checking his pulse. It was weak but steady. The blood on his wound was also congealing. Tristan was pureblooded, and he had great regeneration abilities. Maybe if she tended him, he’d recover by himself.

  Ugh. She wished her cell worked so she could call for help.

  Where are the others? Aren’t they supposed to gather in this place?

  She had to do something. She tore off a piece of her own shirt to put compression on Tristan’s wounds to stop the bleeding. Maybe she should got get some water and clean them so they wouldn’t get infected.

  The lighter in her hand flickered out. She scrambled up.

  “Don’t move,” someone whispered from behind her. She felt a cold metal cylinder pressed on the back of her neck. The Zippo fell from her hand.

  Her heart froze in her chest.

  That voice. She was so panicking about Tristan she’d forgotten she wasn’t out of the woods. Her stalker was still after her blood. “W-what?”

  “I said don’t fucking move!”

  That voice again. It sounded familiar. Where had she heard it? “I’m not moving. Who are you?”

  There was a harsh laugh. “You don’t remember me, do you? Of course you don’t. As if you would.”

  She squirmed.

  “Don’t move!”

  She stilled. “What do you want?”

  “You, of course. It’s always been you, Molly. But you don’t ever notice me.” The man’s voice sounded bitter and angry.

  She racked her brain, trying to remember who he was. In the midst of panic like this, she couldn’t recall anything. She was worried about Tristan. She had to get him medical help. If she lost Tristan, she wouldn’t know what to do. She’d go insane.

  “Listen,” she tried to reason with the man, “I’ll do anything you want, but let me get help for him first.”

  The man whacked the side of her head with the butt of his gun, sending her tumbling down next to Tristan’s body. The pain registered a heartbeat later. It felt like someone had dropped a flowerpot from a sky-scraper. Sticky, warm liquid dripped down her neck, shoulder and arm.

  She whimpered in pain. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “You don’t even remember me!” The man stormed out a curse. “Now, get up. Get the fuck up!”

  “Okay, okay. Calm down.”

  “Don’t you fucking tell me to calm down!”

  “All right.” Molly heaved herself up, standing on shaky legs. She was lightheaded from the blow. Now that she was facing him, she could make out the outline of her assailant, but it was too dark to see his face. The man before her was a little taller than she was with a rather thin figure.

  And he wasn’t David.

  “Now,
turn around.”

  She obeyed immediately.

  “Walk ahead. Follow this path.”

  “But it’s too dark. I can’t see shit.”

  “You’ll live. Get moving. We haven’t got all night.”

  Molly trudged along the path. She really couldn’t see anything but a jumble of shadows before her. .She stuck out one foot at a time to feel the ground and moved like a blind rat.

  A few times she stumbled, but the man behind her always gladly gave her a nasty shove.

  “Where are we going?” she dared herself to ask. The silence was killing her. She racked her brain over and over, but she still couldn’t remember who he was. She’d heard that voice before. If she could see his face, she’d know. If she recognized him, maybe she could plead with him and ask him why he hated her so much. There were so many questions in her mind that she didn’t know how to start. What was his involvement with David? Did he do all this on his own? What had she done to this man to make him so pissed? She rarely got close to somebody while she was living with David—he made sure of that. So she couldn’t have wronged this person so much that he was hell-bent on stalking her and raising hell.

  Her assailant only nudged her with the barrel of his gun. “Soon, you’ll find out.”

  Molly shambled along the path. The moonlight had squeezed through the dark cloud and some of the light fell through a crack in the thick forest canopy. Everything wasn’t so dark anymore, and she could see the narrow line before her. It was the same path that she and Tristan had taken on their hike earlier.

  Her thoughts drifted to Tristan again. Anger simmered in the pit of her gut. He’s hurting because of me. Her hands trembled. Her own pain was forgotten. If he died, she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself.

  Chapter Eight

  Tristan came out of his unconsciousness because something was licking his face. Dog. Ugh. It had garlic breath. Son of a bitch! He opened his eyes and saw a huge grey wolf slobbering all over his face. Instinctively, he pushed the wolf away. “Get off me, Esposito!”