Gifted To The Dragon: A Paranormal Pregnancy Romance (The Gifted Series Book 2)

by Amira Rain

  I laughed again, soon getting a clichéd "I'd known him my whole life" kind of feeling, which felt wonderful. It had been quite a long time since I'd felt that way when meeting a man, if I ever really had.

  Between more jokes, making me laugh some more, Desmond asked me a few questions about myself, things like what I did for a living and how I liked it, and then how I'd gotten into coaching gymnastics in the first place.

  After I'd told him a bit about my competitive career as a child and teenager, I changed the subject by asking him how he liked being a shifter and fighting the Angels. He said that some days were better than others, but that the good days when he and his men were able to beat back the Angels and even take some of them out, made all the other days worth it.

  "Making them retreat from trying to attack innocent people...that's what gives me joy in my job."

  Breaking off another piece of sugary elephant ear, I asked him what he'd done before The Takeover, before he'd become a shifter.

  After finishing a sip of lemonade, he set the cup on the table.

  "Back in my 'former life,' as I think of it sometimes, I was an Army Ranger. I have to say, though, that I like fighting as a dragon shifter better. The 'enemy' is more clearly defined, not to mention that for some reason, I wasn't able to breathe fire as a non-shifter Ranger. Didn't have much luck taking to the skies to fight enemies, either. I'd try to take off, flapping my arms, but I only ever made it up a few feet."

  Laughing, I was really beginning to feel more than a bit intoxicated by Desmond, and that feeling only increased once we'd finished our snack.

  After tossing our trash in a nearby garbage can, he returned to the table and offered me his hand.

  "Would you like to go over by the stage and dance? Seems like we shouldn't let the older folks have all the fun."

  The band had just started playing a slow song, a hit from fifty or sixty years earlier, and just the thought of slow dancing with Desmond, our bodies slowly swaying, sent a current of something electric racing through me. I took his hand, my pulse accelerating.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Slow dancing with Desmond turned out to be every bit as amazing an experience as I'd hoped it would be. Beneath a few rows of glowing white lanterns, he held me close, leading with strong, sure steps. I just about melted into him, inhaling his masculine, woodsy scent. We didn't talk much, just glanced into each other's eyes every so often.

  The slow song led into another, and we danced that one, too. In Desmond's muscular arms, I reveled in a feeling of safety, mind wandering to what it might feel like to be in his arms without clothes on. Before my mind could wander too far, an older couple danced their way over to us, and a woman with short, wavy white hair gave me a light tap on the shoulder.

  "My husband and I think the two of you make quite an attractive, happy-looking couple. We wanted to give you our best wishes for many happy years."

  With heat rising to my face, I stammered my thanks. Desmond didn't seem flustered in the least and grinned before saying thank you. Both of them beaming, the older couple slowly danced away after the woman said “you're welcome,” and her husband told Desmond and me to have a good night.

  When the song ended, the singer and band left the stage, and a man with gray hair and mustache took it and grabbed a mic, thanking everyone for coming out, and saying that before the night's festivities ended, it was time to announce the event's "cruisin' car best in show" and the honorable mention.

  Making a very sudden decision, I asked Desmond if he'd like to come back to my apartment for a nightcap. I knew it was extremely un-safety-minded to invite a man I'd just met back to my apartment, but I didn't want my time with him to end just yet, and I didn't want to go back into the bar.

  I supposed I could have just as easily asked him to join me for a cup of coffee at a diner just a block up the street, but I was beginning to feel like I wanted to be alone with him, and soon. I wanted to kiss him, wanted to have him kiss me. To my astonishment, because it really wasn't my style to just hop right into bed with a man, I realized that I actually might not be opposed at all to that happening on this particular night, with this particular man.

  I'd been far too deprived of physical satisfaction for far too long, and I just didn't want this opportunity for me to possibly experience some with an insanely handsome, well-muscled dragon shifter to pass me by.

  With a slow half-grin curving his full lips, Desmond said he'd love to join me for a nightcap.

  "You might have to drive us, though. I arrived here to town on wings, and I imagine me shifting to give you a lift on my back might steal some attention from the 'best in show' car."

  Smiling, I agreed and said it was no problem for me to drive. Hand-in-hand, we set out for my car, which I'd parked on the street adjacent to the bar's parking lot, which had been filled with cars of people who'd attended the cruise event, I'd assumed.

  Because my apartment building was only a few blocks away, we were there within a couple of minutes. Again hand-in-hand, we walked up to my second-floor apartment. Feeling bold to the point of seeming to myself like an entirely different person from my normal self, the moment after I shut the door behind us and flicked on the foyer and hallway lights, I told Desmond to kiss me.

  Immediately embarrassed that I was being so forward, maybe even aggressive and rude, I cleared my throat.

  "I mean...please kiss me. If you want to, that is."

  With his delectable lips slowly curving in a half-grin, Desmond took a step closer to me, then took my face in his hands. "I've wanted to kiss you since the moment I saw you."

  Dipping his head, since at five-foot-four I was quite a bit shorter than him, he brought his mouth to mine. Instantly, butterflies began rioting in my stomach. Soft yet firm, his lips were perfect, exquisite. He kissed me slowly and gently at first, moving his hands from my face to the small of my back. I wrapped my arms around his neck, loving the feel of being pulled a bit closer to his long, muscular body.

  It wasn't long before our kiss intensified, and Desmond began plundering my mouth with his tongue. Becoming more than a bit turned on, I made a quiet moan, curling my toes in my shoes, and Desmond began making a few sounds of his own, low grunts and growls of pleasure and desire.

  After a short while, I broke our kiss, helped Desmond out of his jacket, then out of his navy blue t-shirt as well. I just couldn’t help myself. I'd become desperate to see the chiseled contours of his chest and run my hands across his muscles, and now I did just that, sighing at the feel of so much hardness beneath my fingers.

  Apparently desperate to see my chest as well, Desmond soon helped me out of my jacket and shirt, flinging them both aside. He then surveyed my breasts with undisguised lust in his eyes.

  "You really are beautiful, Madison. Stunning."

  His voice had become incredibly husky, a low, masculine growl, which further turned me on. After he removed my bra and admired my bare breasts, his breathing becoming fast and ragged, he cupped them, making me moan, and we began kissing again, now with even more intensity, our hungry tongues teasing and exploring.

  When Desmond began to slowly circle my stiffened nipples with his thumbs, I moaned the loudest I had yet, not even breaking our kiss. Not long after, when I pressed my lower body against his and felt that he was already very hard and very large, I did break our kiss; I was absolutely stunned at myself, because of what I was about to ask.

  A little breathlessly, I asked him to follow me to my bedroom. "If you want to."

  Making clear that he did, he immediately scooped me up and held me to his hard chest. "I'll carry you there. Just direct me to your room."

  I told him it was down the hallway, the first door to the left, and he began heading in that direction, walking as easily as if I were just a feather in his arms. I'd heard that shifters possessed increased strength and stamina, even while in human form, and it seemed this was definitely true. I was very curious to see how that increased strength and stamina would play o
ut when we actually reached the bedroom.

  Once we did, it wouldn't have been too far off the mark to describe the ensuing scene as "clothes flying." However, when I was completely naked, and Desmond was just down to his boxer-briefs, I did slow down a little. I wanted to thoroughly enjoy the sight of what I was about to see next.

  With my bedroom door almost fully open, allowing in enough light from the hallway for me to fully appreciate his form and all its different parts, I slowly pulled down his boxer briefs, biting back a sound between a whimper and a gasp. Like I'd been able to feel through his jeans, his manhood was very large.

  As I wrapped a hand around it, reveling in the feel of its heft and weight and making Desmond groan, I confirmed that it was rock-hard. I wanted him badly, and I told him so, beginning to stroke his lengthy shaft, making him groan again, throwing his head back.

  "I want you to make love to me, Desmond. Please."

  I didn't need to ask him twice.

  He picked me up again and set me on my bed, then climbed in beside me, taking me in his arms.

  "God, you smell incredible. And you have the most perfect face and body I've ever seen. The softest skin, too."

  My scent and the softness of my skin could both be chalked up to a vanilla-scented lotion I used every day, but I wasn't quite sure how he found my face and body "perfect," if he'd really meant it.

  I knew that most people considered me fairly attractive, but I definitely didn't have a model's body, not even close. Tight, toned, and slim during my years as a competitive gymnast, I'd gained fifteen or twenty pounds since then, actually giving me curves, though a few lumps and bumps as well. However, these couple of semi-jiggly spots were nothing major, and I knew I was still in good shape; but my body certainly wasn't perfect. I was glad Desmond seemed to think so, anyway.

  Planting a few kisses along the side of my neck, he brushed some of my long, light brown hair out of the way.

  "Even your hair is perfect. So beautiful."

  Now that might have made me laugh, had I not been so focused on the feel of Desmond's naked body against mine. Earlier that day, a little girl at the gymnastics center had styled my hair into a very unusual quadruple ponytail and multiple braids look, and right before I'd gone to the bar, I'd noticed that my hair still bore rubber band marks and funny random waves from the braids, even an hour after I'd taken the ponytails and braids out.

  Having forgotten a brush, I'd just run a hand through my hair a few times, working a few snarls out, snarls that I was sure were back in by now. But the way Desmond was gently stroking my hair, looking at it with something that resembled reverence, made me think that he did truly find it beautiful. For some reason, this made me want him all the more.

  Soon we resumed our kissing, facing each other, and I hiked a leg up on Desmond's hips, whimpering with desire when I felt his granite-hard pole against my tingling feminine bud. When he broke our kiss and slowly began moving his hips with a growl rumbling deep in his chest, I whimpered again at the feel of his thick shaft sliding along my most sensitive spot, which wasn't so much tingling now as it was throbbing.

  Before I knew it, he was inside of me after having plunged into my depths with one slow, powerful thrust. Completely and exquisitely filled, I moaned the word yes, gripping Desmond's shoulder just about hard enough to break it.

  He took just a moment letting me get used to his size and hardness before rolling me from my side to my back while remaining inside of me. Then, with a growl, he hiked my legs up on his shoulders and began slowly thrusting in and out of my slickness, the sensation one of such intense pleasure, I knew I wasn't going to last long. Couldn't if I'd bent my whole will toward it.

  What he was doing just felt way too good. Not to mention that Desmond looked too good as well, greatly adding to my pleasure. That hallway light coming in through the open bedroom door yielded just enough brightness for me to see the outline of his muscular shoulders and incredibly handsome, strong-jawed face.

  I could also see his eyes, which, back in the foyer, I'd seen were a dark grayish-blue. Now I couldn't see his eyes well enough to see the color, but I could see them glinting when he periodically looked into my own eyes.

  Lifting my hips to meet Desmond's every thrust, I proved my hunch correct when I hurtled over the edge of ecstasy within just a couple of minutes, crying out while every muscle in my body seemed to tense and relax repeatedly, and while Desmond drove his long pole deeper and deeper inside of me, grunting.

  I wasn't even sure how long my climax lasted because time had suddenly somehow ceased to exist, but I knew it was the longest, most powerful orgasm I'd ever experienced in my life. Toward the end of it, I realized that the muscles in my legs were not only clenching and relaxing, my legs were actually shaking, wrapped tightly around Desmond's slim hips.

  And it was only when the last spasm of my ecstasy had passed that I realized that I'd wound my fingers in Desmond's thick, dark hair, kind of pulling it, to the point that it might have borderline even hurt him.

  If it did, though, he showed no indication, and in fact, he seemed to be quickly approaching his own climax with his breaths now coming as a series of rapid grunts and growls. Finally releasing his hair, I realized that I wanted to experience rapture once again, this time with him, and I spoke in a breathless, rapid whisper.

  "Flip me. Please. I want to feel you moving inside of me from behind."

  I knew that an even more primal, animal style of lovemaking was sure to bring me to another peak, and probably just as soon as I'd reached my first.

  Seemingly all too glad to comply with my request, Desmond immediately pulled himself out of me and flipped me onto my stomach, but then pulled me up on my knees, facing my headboard. After placing my hands on my headboard and kind of tilting me to lean toward it, he then straddled my hips from behind and entered me again with a long, low groan.

  When he began thrusting again, the sensation of feeling him move deeply inside of me by sliding his hard shaft between my closed thighs was one I couldn't even begin to describe. Coherent thought had become nearly impossible. I could only moan, gripping the headboard while Desmond soon brought me to another mind-blowing climax with an arm around my chest, holding me tightly, while he growled out his own release, filling me with his masculine essence.

  A while later, we rested in embrace, slightly-sweaty limbs entwined. Now having finally experienced the sexual satisfaction I'd been craving for years, I suddenly felt incredibly tired, like I could barely keep my eyelids open.

  However, I managed to keep them open while I looked into Desmond's eyes, feeling like I had to say something.

  "I just want you to know...I really don't go to bars to pick up men. I only went tonight because my boss wanted company. And I definitely don't usually just hop right into bed with someone I just met. In fact, this was the first time I ever have, and that's the truth. Even though I know that all evening, it's probably just sounded like I'm saying things to make myself sound innocent."

  I didn't even know why it was important for me to express what I just had; for some reason, it just felt like it was. I simply wanted Desmond to know that he wasn't my "man of the night."

  Slowly stroking my hair in the dim light, he just looked into my eyes for a long moment.

  "You have very expressive, beautiful green eyes, Madison, and never at any point in the evening have I seen anything but genuine honesty in them. I haven't doubted anything you've said."

  Satisfied that he believed me, I gave him a little smile.

  "Do you know I used to hate my green eyes? A boy in my fourth grade class used to always tease me by telling me they were the same 'ugly green' as his pet lizard's skin."

  Desmond smiled. "They're actually the opposite of 'ugly green.' They're a gorgeous emerald green. I'm just guessing that little boy had a crush on you and thought teasing was the best way to express it."

  I smiled in return. "Maybe."

  One of the last things I said to Desmond befor
e falling asleep was for him to please make sure I was up by eight the next morning, because I'd volunteered to help Eloise and the other caretakers lead the residents of the home on what was referred to by everyone as "a bird-watching expedition."

  Really, it was less an expedition, as most people would think of one, and more the caretakers simply giving all residents binoculars and birding books and leading them all around Eloise's vast, wooded backyard to try to spot different birds in the trees.

  Nonetheless, it was an expedition for the residents, and they all, including my grandma, always seemed to love it, even if some of them didn't remember it immediately after, or even forgot what they were doing during it. The first "expedition" of early spring was especially a treat.

  The previous year, my grandma hadn't stopped smiling for at least a full minute after spotting one of the birds listed in her birding book, which had made the experience a treat for me as well, to say the least.