Dragon's Flame

by Jory Strong

  Taine matched his strokes to hers. Rolled a few more times with an ease that suggested a lot of time in the water.

  “Show off.”

  His minnow-fast smile sent a sizzling streak of want to her pussy.

  “Are you impressed?”

  His voice hinted that he had other skills he could demonstrate. “Very,” she said, molten desire pooling in her sex, pulsing like a Morse code invitation.

  Take me.

  Take me.

  Take me.

  She followed him out of the water. He stopped on wet sand, grasped her hand and pulled her into his personal space.

  The water came after them, lapped their ankles and feet.

  She’d known—hoped—he’d show up on the beach, but hadn’t imagined it being so spectacular. “Nice save back there.”

  This time his smile was a slow display of white teeth. “Couldn’t let anything happen to you. We have unfinished business.”

  Heat in his voice. Heat in eyes. Heat in his touch.

  They were a match to the heat in her pussy, though she said, “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  He tugged and she was plastered to the front of his body, her pebbled nipples against his chest, his erection against her stomach.

  It was a potent combination. Or more truthfully, Taine was potent.

  His eyes glittered, his chest was a muscled wall, his cock rock hard and she had no will to resist temptation. She rubbed against him, sending pleasure spiking into her breasts and pussy, a pleasure that was heightened by the flare of his nostrils, the parting of his lips.

  “You’re playing with fire,” he said.

  “So you say.”

  His growl was a primal stroke between her legs, swelling her further, adding arousal to the ocean water soaking her panties.

  His mouth slammed down onto hers. He thrust his tongue through lips parted on a moan, stroked, each rub and press sending sensation shivering downward to burn between her legs.

  Definitely potent. He was like hundred-proof whiskey, the kind that obliterated the ability to reason though she told herself it’d just been a long time since she’d been with anyone, and that explained the searing need.

  It was a lie. She knew she lied.

  She could break her sex-fast with a thousand other men but was fairly certain they couldn’t take her up as fast as Taine.

  Internal bells clanged, warning about the danger of being engulfed in Taine’s flame.

  Saffron ignored them. She wouldn’t be a firefighter if she was afraid of fire.

  She met the thrusts of his tongue with thrusts of hers, continued the rub of her breasts against his chest, her mound against his erection.

  At the base of her spine, his hand burned through her thin tank top, sending more heat into her pussy. The wild pounding of her heart warned that he could be a dangerous lover.

  Bring it, she thought, pulse fluttering in anticipation. She couldn’t remember needing a man so desperately.

  His mouth left hers and she moaned a protest. His voice held a wealth of promise when he asked, “My place or yours?”

  Chapter 4

  His place was closer, a two story townhouse on the beach with the other unit belonging to Kellen. Taine opened the door, pulled his mate into his lair and penned her against the wall in darkness broken by faint moonlight.

  The scent of the ocean clung to their skin and clothing. But it didn’t mask the heady pheromones proclaiming that Saffron was the right female for him. It didn’t hide the fact that she was wet and willing, swollen and needy, ready to be claimed.

  He nuzzled her neck, satisfaction surging through him at her moan, at the arch of her back and the way her arms went around him, holding him to her even as she said, “I need to rinse off.”

  “That too,” he said, kissing his way to her breast.

  She might as well have foregone the tank top and bra for what little it hid. He rid her of the wet clinging material, latched onto a hardened nipple and sucked.

  Hunger roared through him, further engorging his cock. One slip-up and he’d be bound to her.

  He swirled his tongue over her nipple, felt the tug of her hands in his hair all the way down to his cock, and kept sucking.

  He’d always been of the opinion that if not for breasts, the ancient dragons might never have learned to compress their magic and reshape themselves into something human. Human bodies were so small, so much less powerful than their native forms. But the pleasure compensated.

  Taine shuddered with that pleasure as Saffron’s hands swept down his neck and clawed his shoulders.

  The spurs contained in hidden sheaths at his wrists nearly emerged. His cock pulsed, warning that if he wasn’t very careful, the spur below the head would emerge when he was deep within his mate so that in the moment of orgasm, she’d be open to the bond.

  He kissed his way to her other nipple. Licked her hardened flesh and smiled.

  Mate with a touch of salt was a tasty treat.

  His circled her nipple with his tongue. Nearly purred at the way she rubbed her pussy against his cock.

  “Tease,” she said, pressing her nipple against his lips.

  “Task master.” But it wasn’t a complaint.

  He sucked the nipple. Laved it, her scent deepening, becoming more compelling, threatening to force playfulness and patience aside with the desire to bond.

  He couldn’t allow that to happen. If she’d been a distraction before, a source of frustration that had caused him to torch three expensive sports cars and a table full of cheap charms…

  He needed to keep this casual, fun and nonthreatening—at least until he determined if Saffron believed in love at first sight.

  He cupped and molded her breasts, told himself that he had the situation with his mate under control.

  “Taine,” she said, husky-voiced, the sound of his name a siren call that brought his mouth to hers.

  She was priceless treasure and endless fascination. He moaned at the feel of her lips against his, chafed at the material preventing the press of her bared breasts to his skin.

  Breaking from the kiss, he stripped out of the Got Fire? T-shirt. Reclaimed her mouth, his tongue twining with hers, his hands sweeping over her sides.

  She was smooth skin over sleek, firm muscle. Strong enough to carry gear and handle the equipment needed for fighting fires and saving lives, but still utterly, deliciously feminine.

  Mine.

  She didn’t know it yet, but she was always and forever his. Of all the females in this realm, Saffron was his perfect mate.

  He undid the shorts that had nearly caused him to torch a man ogling her that first time he’d seen her on the beach. It was remembering that man’s reaction to her, worrying that she might be in the arms of some other human while he was busy hunting down demons that’d led to his incinerating the red Porsche and then the silver Porsche.

  He pushed the shorts off her hips, along with panties that probably would have had him gripping his cock had he been forced to watch her do a slow strip.

  The scent of his hot, willing mate had him deepening the kiss, thrusting against her tongue, thoughts rushing forward to the moment his cock would be fully embedded in her, completely surrounded by luscious wet heat.

  Her nails raked his back, sending fire streaking down his spine and into his cock. He nearly injured himself in his hurry to get free of his shorts. Had mixed feelings about the zippers humans had invented, the convenience offset by the risk of injury.

  Better if he and Saffron stayed naked. Except then others would see her beautiful body and covet his mate.

  Smoke leaked from his nostrils and he was glad for the darkness.

  More smoke escaped with the touch of his shaft to her smooth, bare mound and silky stomach. Pleasure shuddered through him at the lack of hair on her pussy.

  The spurs sheathed in his wrists and shaft throbbed. His cock leaked arousal.

  “Is that thing for me?” his mate asked, sult
ry confidence in her voice.

  “Maybe, if you’re nice to me.”

  “Define nice,” she murmured, grinding her pussy against his cock, rubbing, enticing him to lose control. She was torment and temptation, a troublesome kind of mate, that was for sure.

  He forced himself away from her. “Shower,” he said, taking her hand.

  He guided her upstairs and into the master bathroom. Shored up his control before hitting the light switch.

  Glorious tribute to the First Ancestor. He could come just looking at his mate. She was caramel perfection.

  He ate her with his eyes, noted that she was doing the same and preened. His cock pulled away from his abs, anxious for her attention. But he made that part of him wait in favor of memorizing every inch of smooth skin.

  Firm breasts were capped with large brown nipples he could spend hours worshipping. Would spend hours worshipping though he’d be constantly torn between kissing upward to her mouth, or downward, over a flat stomach to a mound that was pure seduction.

  His knees weakened. Only her stepping away, murmuring shower kept him from sinking to the floor and putting his mouth on her pussy.

  He followed her into the stall, grunted as cool water hit before warming into a hot luxurious spray. He stepped out of the way, was jealous of the water striking her skin, caressing it, making her close her eyes as she arched her back and moaned.

  Smoke mixed with steam. He battled fiery possessiveness, the need to completely cover his mate, to be the sole source of her pleasure.

  He gripped his cock and her eyes fluttered open. A sultry smile formed as she took note of her effect on him and reached—not for him but for the body wash.

  She coated her palms with soap then glided them over her arms, her breasts—lingering there, caressing mouth-watering nipples before moving to her stomach, her smooth mound, her long, sleekly muscled legs.

  Oh she was asking for trouble. His wickedly sensuous mate wouldn’t leave this shower until she’d screamed her pleasure.

  His grip tightened on his cock. His nostrils flared as the scent of the ocean was replaced by the scent of his body wash mixing with the scent of aroused mate.

  She straightened and he was on her, holding her against the shower wall, the hot water striking his back in an erotic pounding that made him want to get his cock inside Saffron and thrust, thrust, thrust.

  He resisted, satisfied himself by penetrating her with his tongue. He ate at her mouth, swallowed moans that were now caused by him and not the water.

  Mine! Mine! Mine!

  He wanted to growl it, shout it, roar the message so everyone would know that Saffron was his, his, his!

  Her hands swept over his arms, his back, his ass. And reflexively his hips thrust.

  His hand would never compare to Saffron’s tight, slick channel. He didn’t have to be joined with her to know that truth.

  Fingernails dug into his ass. He could easily lift her, impale her where they stood.

  It was a good thing his hand gripped his cock and not hers. He would have been helpless to resist if she’d guided him to her opening.

  Forcing his mouth away from the siren call of hers, he kissed downward, pausing to pay homage to the breasts she’d nearly driven him mad touching.

  His hand cupped the thigh wound around his, kept possession of it as he went to his knees.

  He draped her thigh over his shoulder, stared at her sweet pussy, the skin darker between her legs, flushed and swollen and parted.

  He felt a tremor go through her thigh, not that he needed that evidence of her anticipation, not when the lush scent of her arousal had deepened, not when her hips canted in silent pleading—or demand.

  He wouldn’t rule out the latter when it came to his mate. He pressed his lips to her satiny skin and she moaned, gripped his hair and rubbed against his mouth, rising onto toes to bring her clit and slick opening to his attention.

  Mine! The primitive part of his nature reveled in the way she’d offered her pussy, the need now vibrating from his mate.

  He stroked his tongue over her clit, swirled it around the engorged nub. Fed on the sound of her quickened breathing, the rough pleas, “More, Taine. I need more.”

  He’d give her more. More than she could imagine possible, but then she didn’t know her mate was a dragon.

  He latched onto her clit, sucked. Tormented her with his tongue.

  She moaned and rocked against him, surrendered all control.

  “More” became “Yes, yes, yes!” And it was screamed as he’d promised himself she would scream before leaving the shower.

  She came for him, and if not for the painful grip on his shaft, he’d have joined her in release. But he didn’t.

  He swirled his tongue over Saffron’s clit and through her wet slit, eliciting a moaned murmur of appreciation. He congratulated himself on his dealings with his mate.

  Contrary to what Crew believed, he was not suffering under a delusion. Every moment spent with Saffron demonstrated that he had the situation well in hand.

  He fucked his tongue into Saffron’s slit and she roused, shivered with renewed want. He stood, took her mouth with his. And there was something deeply satisfying in sharing the taste of her arousal for him.

  Nails scraped over his back. Beneath his hand, the spur in his cock throbbed while the sheaths at his wrists burned, warning him of the danger of becoming overconfident when it came to his control.

  He turned off the water.

  In between kisses they left the shower, dried off and got to the bed where he’d spent hours thinking about Saffron after seeing her that first time on the beach.

  The feel of her beneath him was ecstasy. The heat in her eyes as their gazes met and held blazed a trail straight to his heart.

  He rocked against her. Kissed her once, twice, a third time, pleasure shivering through him with the feel of so much of her skin against his as she lay beneath him.

  She moved restlessly, legs splaying, rubbing along the length of his. His cock pulsed, its head slickening in preparation.

  “Condom,” she said against his mouth.

  He fought from exhaling flame that would have them rolling off the bed as fire engulfed the mattress. Hated the thought of having his cock encased in latex. He didn’t want anything separating him from his mate.

  This situation had been covered in culture classes and during IRE orientation. He hadn’t needed the information until now.

  He kissed her deeply, rocked his shaft over her clit. Cupped her breast, his thumb stroking her nipple.

  His mate’s scent deepened. Her need deepened.

  “I’m safe,” he said, glorying in the feel of Saffron’s skin against his and the heat in her eyes.

  Her nails scraped over his back. His hips bucked.

  “I believe you,” she said. “But I’ve got my rules. You need to suit-up.”

  Curse it! But looking down into her beautiful face, he couldn’t help but feel blessed.

  Suppressing a growl, he rolled away and opened the nightstand drawer. It was a good thing he’d recognized early on that she was a troublesome kind of mate.

  “I’ll do it for you,” she said, and he shuddered imagining it, doubted he’d last long enough to get inside her.

  “I’ve got it.” And curse it, there was no way he’d say, next time you can do it.

  The growl that might have been his voice became a moan as she kissed along his neck.

  He rolled the condom on, his cock screaming all the while though ultimately it was entirely pragmatic.

  Covering Saffron’s body again, he took her lips, tongue thrusting, demanding.

  She spread her legs. And finally, finally after a month of waiting, of wanting, he entered his mate.

  Pure pleasure engulfed him. He burned, needed, only barely, barely clung to his control.

  A thrust and he was done with thought. Could only move.

  Deeper. Deeper.

  Not nearly deep enough.

  Hi
s lips clung to hers. His tongue glided, twined, mated.

  Fingers entwined, he held her hands to the dark blue sheet. It wasn’t completely safe, not with the sheaths burning, the spurs so close to descending, but it was safer than having his wrists in contact with her back or sides or stomach.

  He thrust harder, faster, the sounds of Saffron’s pleasure and the tightening of her body telegraphing her climb toward release.

  He fought the dragon instinct to bond, only barely kept all three spurs sheathed but readily surrendered to the masculine need to make his woman come.

  Changing the angle, he struck her clit with each thrust, fiery heat gathering in his balls and at the base of his spine. She consumed him, was everything he wanted, a treasure beyond compare.

  Faster, harder, and she met those fast, hard thrusts, welcomed them. Came because of them, her channel tightening, rippling, demanding, freeing the fiery heat gathered in his balls so it streaked through his cock and up his spine to explode in his head.

  He collapsed and slid off her. Rolled away long enough to deal with the condom, then smiled when she cuddled against him, her back pressed to his chest. He rubbed his cheek against Saffron’s silky hair and sent a smug, silent, unheard message to Crew. See. I’ve got total control of the situation.

  He nibbled his way across his mate’s shoulder. Dragon instinct didn’t lie, Saffron was the one. Her ass was the perfect cushion for his cock, her breasts the right size for his hands, and her scent…

  He breathed deeply and that was enough to send blood downward in a hot rush meant to fill his cock so he could get back inside her.

  “Again?” she murmured.

  “Why not?”

  To his ears, her laugh was almost a dragon’s purr.

  “Can’t think of a single reason,” she said, a sultry satisfaction in her voice, a satisfaction that would deepen once she’d learned that he was a dragon and she was a dragon’s mate.

  He risked a bite to the place where her neck met her shoulder. Imagined them as dragons, perched on smooth, sun-warmed rocks, their bodies locked together.