Fire In His Kiss: A Post-Apocalyptic Dragon Romance (Fireblood Dragon Book 2)

by Ruby Dixon

  I can feel her gasp. She is always startled by my frank thoughts. You’re asking me to pick?

  Which one will give you more pleasure?

  Her thoughts immediately flash to my mouth between her thighs, but the answer she gives me is different. Breasts, she tells me.

  It is curious. Is she embarrassed to have my face in her cunt? Is that why she covers her body and disguises her smell all the time? Humans are an odd people. The drakoni celebrate all forms of mating. Our females have no body shame. But then again, our males would never snap the arm of a female that has made them angry. Just the thought makes my thoughts swirl with fury again.

  Stay with me, Sasha tells me nervously. You’re going dark again.

  I am, and I am glad she is here to pull me back. I bury my face against her neck and drape my larger, heavier body over hers. I am glad for your mind, my sweet Sasha. You are the only thing that keeps me whole.

  Her hand goes to my hair, and she fingers the texture of it even as she gives me a small smile. I’m glad you get something out of this mating, at least.

  I get everything out of this mating. You have no idea how you have saved me. Do not downplay your worth, my mate. I will not hear of it.

  “All right,” she whispers. It is clear she does not believe me, but that is all right. She does not need to believe yet. She will know in time.

  For now, the intoxicating scent of her skin pulls me back to the moment. I settle my hips against hers, pushing her thighs apart so I can press my cock against the soft folds of her cunt. I want to rub her scent all over me, but I must be content with going slower. Shall I press my face to your breasts, then? Lick them until your mating scent grows overpowering?

  She sucks in a breath, and the look in her eyes is unfocused, her thoughts full of my hands, covered in lotion, plucking at her nipples. Ah, when I stroked her before. She liked it, even if she did not wish to admit it to me.

  I use my elbow to prop my weight up over her, and very carefully place one hand over her small breast. Sasha bites at her full lower lip, and I want to bite it myself, to taste her again. Slow, I remind myself. Patient. I stroke my hand over her skin, enjoying the sheer pleasure of touching her. The contrast between us is great. My skin is a strong bronze compared to her paler one, my scales so tight in my two-legged form that they seem as nothing more than a pattern against my skin. She has no such markings herself, only the darker, duskier shade of her nipples. Even now they are budded tight, the tips pointed. Her chest moves up and down rapidly, and she quivers as if this is the first time she has ever been touched.

  So very serious about mating, my Sasha. I am sad she finds no joy in simply touching another or letting herself be touched. I must change this. I receive no greater pleasure than touching her and want the same for her. I must show her that our mating can be good. That she will have no regrets as my mate.

  I drag my claws lightly over her skin. I would never puncture her flesh with them, and I am always careful. Over and over, I simply stroke her, avoiding her sensitive nipples. She relaxes underneath me after a few moments, and her breathing slows from its anxious rasp. She finds it comforting to be touched, I realize, even if she does not care for the act of mating itself.

  I must focus on touching, then, until she craves more. I lower my head and rub my face between her breasts, breathing deep.

  She startles at this, but strokes my hair. She is silent, an odd sort of anticipation and dread building in her mind. I put my mouth on the tip of one breast and lick it, and she squirms underneath me. The hint of pleasure she feels diminishes, and her dread is growing overwhelming. In the span of mere moments, she has gone from pleasure to dismay once more.

  This is not working.

  I will not give up, though. I must find a way to make my Sasha stay with me, stay in the pleasure of the moment instead of retreating to her memories. I think back to what she responded to just a few short moments ago. She liked my kisses and she liked my forward words. Perhaps I need to take control away from her, to take her off guard. She is in her mind too much and I am letting her think too hard.

  She needs to not think at all.

  Perhaps I am going too slow when I should be going faster.

  I sit up and give her a mental command. Spread your thighs for me.

  Her eyes go wide, and her mind flickers. Again, I receive the startled mix of excitement and worry. “My…thighs?”

  Yes. Hold yourself open for me. I want to look down on you.

  Sasha’s mouth forms a circle in surprise, and I can smell her arousal on the air. Her thoughts are a tangle once more, but this is good. This means she is not focused on her dread. One hand slides to her knee, and then she hooks her fingers behind her leg, pulling it up. She spreads both of them wide, exposing her cunt to me, and her face is flushed with a mixture of awkward feelings and nervous arousal.

  Seeing her like this is a glorious sight. I put my hand on her other ankle since she cannot, and press her legs farther apart until she is spread wide for me. Her folds gleam with a hint of wetness underneath the dark curls, and I enjoy the sight of it. I am going to put my face there soon, I tell her. I am pleased when I can feel her shudder.

  I press my mouth to her ankle, licking the delicate bones and skin there. She squirms against my touch but does not pull away. I move my face down her leg, kissing as I do. The anticipation builds inside her, flooding her thoughts, and by the time I get close to the juncture of her thighs, she is panting, her scent perfuming the air.

  My mouth waters with need. I want nothing more than to press my face there in her soft, slick folds and taste her. But she is expecting that, and I want to keep her off her guard, if I can. It takes everything I have to pull away. I stroke my fingers over her folds briefly as I sit up, and taste her sweetness off of my claws. Sit up, my mate.

  “S-sit up?” Her thoughts are hazy. She blinks at me in aroused surprise, but does as I ask.

  Yes. Sit up before me. I get to my feet, standing tall. My cock juts out from my body, the hard length of it aching with need. As she gazes up at me, she looks so tousled and soft and lovely that I want to fling her to the floor and mount her. I send the thought to her, and her breath stutters. Her nipples grow hard, and she shifts in her seat, aware of her own arousal and confusion. This is not how she expected things to go, and her thoughts are both pleased and full of surprise.

  Good. I will keep surprising her. I want you to touch me.

  Her eyes go wide, and she looks up at me with surprise. Touch you? Where?

  Anywhere you wish. Anywhere you’d like to explore. It takes all that I am to keep my hands at my sides, but I somehow manage. I want her to see that my strength is not something to be feared, that it is there so I can protect her and be a good mate to her.

  24

  DAKH

  I expect my Sasha to protest more or to get to her feet and touch my arms or my chest. Instead, she remains kneeling and moves forward, putting her cheek to my thigh. The bolt of lust that flares through her matches my own, and I groan when her mating scent grows even stronger. Her mouth glides over my skin, and she traces the outline of one muscle with the tip of her small tongue. Her hand caresses the inside of my thigh.

  This…I did not expect. A drakoni female is not giving in mating. She is defeated by the male that claims her, and fights him even through the mating. I do not expect…such sweetness. Such generosity. Such arousal at the thought of putting her mouth on me.

  She kisses upward, and her thoughts flood with images of putting her mouth on my cock.

  I am…shocked. And enticed by the thought. Is this something humans do? As a drakoni male, I have pleasured females all over, but I have never had such things reciprocated. To think that humans do these things, it seems like the most logical—and yet obscenely arousing—thing I have ever considered.

  Sasha presses her mouth to the flat of my lower stomach and nips at the skin there. I can feel the pleasure in her thoughts—pleasure at touching me, at

my heat, my scent, the hardness of my muscles, the size of my body. She is aroused by me and by touching me. It fills me with lust and longing.

  My mate, I tell her. I want nothing more than to push you to the floor and drive into you. I send her a barrage of thoughts to accompany this fierce desire.

  She moans against my skin but does not move away. She continues kissing and licking her way toward my cock, her arm wrapped around my thigh as if she must use me to keep herself steady. I’m stiff with anticipation as she moves ever closer, wondering if she will truly put her mouth on me, or if she is too shy to do so.

  But in the next moment, Sasha wraps her fingers around my shaft and begins to kiss along one thick vein.

  And I groan, unable to stop myself from touching her. I put a hand in her hair, and I can feel her pleasure explode at that little touch. I fist a handful of her curls, anchoring her to me. Owning her. Possessing her even with this small touch, and she loves it. She squirms, rubbing her thighs together even as she kisses along my cock and then licks the head.

  I growl low, because never have I felt anything as good as the swipe of her small tongue over my cock. Again, I tell her, demanding it.

  She does so and swirls her tongue over the tip, licking up droplets of my pre-cum. I can feel her surprise and pleasure at the taste of me; she didn’t expect it to taste so good. My flavor is spicy but sweet, and she likens it to something she has tasted in the past and enjoyed. With a little noise of delight, she squeezes the root of my cock and takes the head of me into her mouth, dragging her tongue over my flesh.

  I close my eyes, lost to the sensation. Nothing has ever felt so good, so right. You like my taste?

  My thoughts are so strong that they feel like a demand, and I wonder if I push too hard. But then the pleasure in her thoughts overflows to my mind, and she gives a little moan aloud. She loves it. She loves my hand in her hair, my cock in her mouth. She loves the…control I have over her. It’s making her wet, and in her thoughts, she is surprised at how turned on she is, how her cunt is so wet that her thighs grow slick with their moisture.

  Another growl escapes my throat, and I open my eyes, watching as she feeds my cock into her soft mouth. The sight of her lips closing around my girth, her fingers stroking my shaft—and seeing how big I am compared to her—overwhelms me. My sac tightens, and I threaten to spill inside her mouth. I cannot, though. I want to come inside her, to fill her with my seed. To claim her as a mate should be claimed. Your mouth is too small to take all of me, I tell her. But I am just the right size to fuck your cunt, my sweet Sasha.

  Heat blooms through her thoughts, and she moans around my cock again, even as she sucks on me.

  Your tongue is smooth. Mine is rough. Imagine how it will feel when I bury my tongue in your cunt and fuck you with it.

  My sweet mate gives a little whimper and shifts on her thighs again. You’re…distracting me, Dakh. Her tongue swirls over the head of my cock. Don’t you want me to continue?

  I want to bury my face between your thighs until your pleasure wets my face. Then I want to sink inside you and take you hard. Don’t you want that?

  She releases my cock from her mouth and rubs the tip against her lips, breathless. But—

  No buts, I tell her, and pull away. I sink to my knees in front of her until we are facing each other. She looks up at me with dazed eyes, her mouth wet and pink and swollen, and I want to kiss her again.

  I want to kiss her all over. You put your mouth on me, my Sasha. It is my turn. Get on your knees.

  On my knees? Her thoughts are confused, and she sends me a mental image of her on her back. Shouldn’t I—

  I send another image, a competing one, of her on her hands and knees, her bottom in the air. In the image, I grip her by the hips and push my face into her cunt from behind, lapping at her folds.

  Sasha sways, and I can feel the desire surge through her at the image. She’s both shocked—and aroused—at the image I’ve sent. Dakh…

  On your knees, my Sasha. I do not want her to think, just to feel.

  Her thoughts are overwhelmed with all of her emotions, but none of them are fear. I keep sending her mental images of what I want to do to her, because I don’t want her to stop and think and worry. I want her to remain in the moment, to be with me in this. We are together, our connection strong.

  But then she gets on her knees and presents her bottom to me, and it is the loveliest thing I have ever seen. Her skin is perfect and smooth, her hips rounded, and her cunt glistens with her arousal. Her thighs part, and then she is spread for me, pink and inviting and delicious.

  A growl tears from my throat, and then I am on my mate like a ravenous beast. My mouth goes to her cunt immediately, and I drag my tongue over her gleaming folds, tasting her. She cries out, her body shuddering, but the thoughts in her mind are of pleasure and not fear, so I continue. Over and over I lick her with deep, claiming strokes, using my tongue to explore every bit of her. She tastes sweeter than I have ever dreamed, and I cannot get enough of her honey. I push my tongue into her core, frantic to have all of her.

  “Oh my God. Dakh!” Her toes curl, and her legs tighten against me. She is both startled and aroused at my eagerness, any worry she had melting away as I drag my tongue over her again and again. The roughness of it is startling to her, but just enough to make her squirm with need.

  My mate, I growl into her thoughts. So good. I want to do this forever. My tongue flicks over her folds and grazes the little button she thinks of as a “clitoris.” It is as if she has been stung. She gives a little wail, and her hands curl against the hard floor. Aha. I feel as if I have found the secret. I bury my face into her warmth again, seeking out that little nub. Her body jerks as I move my tongue over it, and I repeat the action. Over and over, I work that one spot, figuring out the best way to touch her. She cries out with little choked gasps as my tongue circles her clitoris, and her thoughts spiral out of control. I can feel the tension increasing in her body, and her urgency excites my own. I want to be deep inside her, claiming her, but I want her to take her pleasure first.

  “Dakh,” she pants with every flick of my tongue. My face is buried against her folds, and it is the finest thing I can imagine. My hands hold her hips down, and I can feel every quiver that moves through her body, every shiver of response, every tensing of her muscles. She writhes against me, her thoughts desperate for more. She needs something to push her over, to make her come, and the longer it takes, the more she starts to think that something is wrong. I can feel the doubt creeping into her thoughts, sapping away her enjoyment.

  I will allow none of that. With a surge of my thoughts, I push a series of images into her mind—her with her mouth on my cock, me with my hand in her hair, holding her there. An image of my face between her thighs, lapping at her juices. Me feeding my cock into her cunt. All the while, I continue to work her little clit with my tongue with slow, steady strokes.

  It is enough. She jerks against me and then comes with a little scream. I can feel the release explode in her mind, and her thoughts seem to crash all around me. Her scream turns into a moan, but I do not stop in my ministrations—I want her to get every bit of pleasure she can. So I continue to lick and lick as she comes and comes and comes.

  Eventually, her thoughts become less chaotic and more dazed. A lick of my tongue turns from pleasure to discomfort, and I reluctantly pull away from her sweetness with one last lick. My cock is throbbing, hard and aching with the need to release inside her. My entire body feels overheated with my fires, and I am desperate to come inside her. I push into Sasha’s thoughts, looking for apprehension or fear. There is nothing, only a languid wonder.

  I lean over her, my body covering hers, and I grab a fistful of her hair, my other hand on her hip. My mate, I tell her with a possessive surge.

  And I push into her.

  She cries out again, but I can feel the euphoria crash through her thoughts as I penetrate her. She likes it. It feels good. And she wants more. I’m so deep into her thoughts that ours begin to blend together, and I feed her my own sensations as I pull from hers. I send to her how tight her cunt is, how perfectly I fit inside her. How good she feels. She shivers with arousal, and her climax begins to build again.

  Good. I want more of that.

  I rock into her again, my hand tightening on her hair, and she whimpers with need. She’s pinned down underneath me, helpless to do anything but receive my body, and her thoughts flood with how erotic she finds it. She loves that I’m in control. She doesn’t have to do anything except take what I give her, and she craves even more as I thrust deep inside her. I’m so focused on my mate and her pleasure that I lose track of my own. Each slam of my cock into her is to give enjoyment to her, each roll of my hips against her own so I can penetrate her deeper. My Sasha. Mine.

  I’m lost in the need to give her everything when I realize that my body is humming, my sac tight and ready to release. I’m on the edge myself, but I don’t want to go there until Sasha does again. I sink into her thoughts, sharing my pleasure with her, and she moans, long and low.

  Tell me what you need, my Sasha. I want to make you come again.

  Her thoughts flutter even as I drive into her, thrusting over and over again. Her breasts bounce with every thrust, and she thinks of her nipples, tight and aching, and then the little bud—the clitoris—between her thighs. If I touch them, her thoughts suggest…

  I release her hair and continue to pound into her with continuous, hard strokes. She’s so wet and my movements are so fierce that our bodies slap together with every thrust, and she’s titillated by the sound of our mating. I slide my hand along the curve of her waist and then under her, reaching between her thighs. I find the little bud of her clitoris and rub the pad of my finger against it.

  She jerks against me, pushing back into my next thrust, and her thoughts go wild. Mine do as well, and then I am conscious of nothing but my mate and pumping into her. Through a haze of need, I remember to touch her clit as I pound into her, and when she screams with her second climax, I know it is safe for me to release, too.

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