“I won’t forgive him for harming you. Where’s the connection between him and Smythe, aside from that stupid doll? Who hired the drakes?”
“Rathin.” She pointed at the screen. “Reed was able to find the mercenary company he hired.”
“What about the attack in Quebec?”
Margery nodded. “Yup. They’re interrogating the survivor now to see if he can lead them to Rathin.”
She leaned her head back and reached up to bring him down for a quick kiss that sizzled through her nerve endings.
Remy trailed his fingers into her blouse. He captured her nipples and rolled them. “I don’t want to talk about studs attacking you anymore.”
Suddenly, Margery didn’t, either. She vanished her clothes and heard his shuddering intake of breath.
“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” he said.
She closed her eyes in bliss when he bent to trail biting kisses down her neck. “Not a plucked chicken?”
“You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen, in either form.”
Margery stood up and wrapped her arms around him. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”
“If I vanish them are you going to put a collar around my neck?” Remy cocked his head at her.
“Try me and see, but I guarantee you won’t be sorry.”
As he pulled her in for a kiss, he made his clothes disappear. Her taut and sensitive nipples were crushed against his chest hair, and his big hands cupped her ass. Their mouths slanted together and shared sweet kisses.
“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while,” she said, breathless from his relentless lips.
“Kiss me while naked? Any time you want, chérie.”
“I meant this.” Sinking to her knees in front of him, she rubbed her chin against his thigh.
He held his breath.
Margery lowered her mouth down the length of his cock and wrapped her hand around the base of it.
Remy hissed. He entwined his fingers in her hair and pushed her head down. “Just like that.”
Margery took him deep in her throat, sucking hard. She looked up at him. His head was thrown back, and the feral noises coming out of his mouth made her wet. His hips twitched as he used her mouth to get off. The feel of him sliding in and out of her mouth made her desperate to taste more of him. She licked at the tip when she could and tried to get her teeth out of the way when she couldn’t. Her nipples rasped against his coarse leg hairs, and she enjoyed making him lose control.
So far she wasn’t feeling like she had to faint. Which was good. Real good. Having to wait until she was on a plane in order to get laid would be inconvenient. Now that she had the ability to shift, she supposed if worst came to worst, she could grab him and jump out the window and continue what they started after he shifted, too. It was a silly thought, but it was good to have a contingency plan, because she did not want to stop.
“Your mouth is so sweet,” he groaned.
She moaned back, liking that the vibration shook him and made his legs tremble. Reaching between her legs, she played with herself in time with his pumping hips.
“Do you want me to come down your throat or on your tits?” He pulled out of her long enough to ask. His cock was hot and wet from her ministrations, and she answered him by putting the length of him between her breasts.
“Fuck, yeah,” he said in between ragged breaths.
Margery bent her head to lick the tip of him as he thrust upward.
“You taste so good,” she said, her voice husky from him being down her throat. She caught some precome on her tongue.
“Oh,” he groaned, looking down at her. “I want you so much, my Queen.”
“Make me yours,” she purred, loving what he was doing to her.
He came hard then on a cry that was part passion and part declaration. “Margery!”
She felt a feminine satisfaction when all he could do was stare down at her and stroke her cheek lovingly. Lying back on the carpet, she spread her legs and beckoned him to join her. But he surprised her by picking her up and carrying her into the bathroom.
Margery gaped at the luxurious room. “I could fit my entire New York apartment in here.”
Candles were everywhere, in all shapes and sizes. The bathtub was a recessed pool filled with heated water. It wasn’t just big enough for two. It was big enough for a dragon. Eucalyptus and spearmint scents rose from the steam. There were containers of rich oils and creams all over the counter. Mirrors reflected both the bathtub and the view of the buildings of the city from the windows.
He set her in the water. It was hot enough to soothe her sore muscles, but not enough to be uncomfortable. Remy gathered a few of the canisters from the counter. Margery looked her fill at her handsome consort, admiring his fine ass and his half-hard cock.
“I want that back in my mouth,” she said, crooking her finger.
He nearly dropped the jars he was carrying. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“I just want it hard again so you can fuck me with it.”
“Choose which one you want me to rub all over your body, and believe me, I’ll be hard enough for you.”
She picked up each jar and smelled. “I don’t know which one to pick.”
Remy slid into the water next to her. He put a cushioned pillow behind her head.
“Do you think I’ll pass out if we have sex when we’re not flying?”
A smile broke out of his face. “I’ll keep you from drowning if you do.”
She grabbed a jar of liquid soap. After filling her hand, she smoothed the suds over his chest and arms, loving the rasp of hair against her palm and the curve of his muscles. She massaged his shoulders this time, and he stretched like a big cat.
“I like your touch,” he said, opening his eyes partway. They flew open when she straddled his lap. His cock stirred to life, getting harder under her. She took one of his big hands and filled it with soap.
“Clean me off.”
Remy rubbed the soap all over her front, making lots of suds over her breasts and nipples.
“Oh.” She pressed in close to his touch. “I want you to play with me for hours.”
“We only have an hour until dinner.” He moved his hand in between her legs.
Margery gasped when he rubbed her clit with soapy, slippery fingers. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders as his mouth claimed hers in a hot, wet kiss. His fingers went faster. She grasped his hair and held him close to keep the kiss going. Quick-fire pulses of pleasure shattered over her as her thighs clamped around his hand. She was growling in his mouth, because the quick orgasm was not enough.
“Don’t worry, chérie,” he said, flipping her on her stomach so she was bent over the side of the pool. “I’m going to make the most of that time.” Then he thrust inside her so hard that she wailed as she clamped down around him. The water in the pool thrummed against her clit.
“What’s that?” she gasped. It felt like a thousand little tongues on her sensitive bud. She backed up against him so he would move that fat cock more.
He laughed softly. “Well, my Queen. It looks like I can control the water.”
The water still thrummed against her most erotic place, and he fucked her hard enough that she thought his fingers would leave bruises. She still moved back against him, though, because it wasn’t enough. She wanted more.
“This is new,” he panted and held her as he stayed deep. “I’m using the water like a vibrator on that cute little button of yours. All I had to do was think about it, and there it is.”
“Remy,” Margery wailed again.
He spread her ass cheeks wide, and she felt the water pound into her.
Speech fled as she was reduced to panting. He filled her with his pumping cock while buzzing the water against her clit and pulsing in her ass. Remy put his hand on her shoulder and kept the pace fast and hard.
Frenzied, she thrashed back at him. “More, give me more,” she cried as pleasure like she nev
er knew pulled as if she was on a leash down a roller-coaster ride of sensation.
“Come for me. And only for me,” Remy said. His tone was dark and menacing and sexy as hell.
Water cascaded over her back like a sharp sting that quickly became another erotic sensation. It was like getting fucked by the ocean, wild, powerful. Margery was boneless when her orgasm took her breath, stopped her heart, and then flooded through her until her whole body was shaking. And still it went on.
“Remy,” she cried.
“Tell me I’m your only lover. Tell me you’ll take no consort but me,” he growled and turned up the buzz and pulses. His hips slapped into her, and water was flooding the bathroom.
“Yes,” she keened.
“My Queen,” he shouted and came deep inside her.
Margery had heard the phrase “the earth shook,” but she hadn’t understood it until now. He’d not only rocked her world, he’d nearly drowned them both, and she would have let him. Gladly.
He pulled her unresisting form up, kissing her neck.
She was still shivering from the aftershocks of her orgasm. He floated them back into the water, and the warmth covered her like a blanket.
“I like this new power,” he said.
“I’m a fan of it, too,” she giggled, reaching up for another kiss.
Chapter Eighteen
Margery wanted nothing more than spend the next few days in bed and in the bath with Remy. Water dragons. Wow. Who knew? Or maybe it was just what consorts could do with their Queens.
She hummed in contentment and stroked Remy’s chest. But if she wanted to get her story out, she had to talk to people, and as tempting as it was to spend time with her new lover, she needed to get back into the swing of things.
She wasn’t a Queen like Bella, who would be content with a harem, or a Queen like Mei Hua, who ruled over an army. That just wasn’t her. She wasn’t a crime fighter like Viola or a researcher like Carolyn. She was just Margery. All she’d ever wanted to do was write articles that changed the world. And this was her chance.
“You’re thinking deep thoughts, chérie,” Remy said, stretching lazily next to her.
“Just that we should get ready for dinner.”
“I’m not hungry,” he said and coiled a strand of her hair around his finger.
Margery kissed him. The hunger that had burned between them was satiated, but it was still a physical pleasure to run her tongue over his. Sighing, she pushed away from him and went over to pull the plastic covering off her dress. “Where do you think Mei Hua got these clothes on such short notice?”
Remy groaned as he got up. “I think she uses her magic and creates them based on the Queen.”
“Do you think her special guest is the pope?”
“Maybe. I hear they share the same catering staff.”
“That’s convenient.” Margery pulled the shimmering dream of a dress over her head and wiggled it down so it fit in all the right places. Remy zipped her up and placed a kiss on her bare shoulder.
“I hope you find the information you need for your article. But are you sure you want to expose yourself to the public?”
Margery leaned back against him. “You make it sound like I’m flashing my tits on Canal Street during Mardi Gras. I’m telling the truth. I’m getting justice for the women who died. And if Smythe and his goons don’t like it, they’re going to have to do more than throw a Smooshie bomb at me.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he muttered.
The servant arrived shortly after they were dressed and led them to the grand dining room. Remy was dashing and suave in his kilt, and Margery was trying not to ogle all the priceless art that hung on the wall and adorned the halls.
“Queen Margery of Vermont and her consort, Remilliard,” a courtly dressed Dragon Slayer announced them from atop the stairwell leading down to the dining room.
“Remilliard?” she whispered, trying not to trip on her gown and her pretty, but not very practical, heels. Once they were seated she was going to magick them into ballet slippers or at least flats. Her toes would thank her later.
“How in the world did he know that?” Remy frowned then stopped dead in his tracks.
She followed his gaze to the group of guests mingling on the floor. To her disappointment, she didn’t see the pope. It was Bella, her entourage, and a fully dressed stud she assumed was Lane. A human man was speaking with an older Queen, who beamed at them. An older Queen she didn’t recognize.
“Remy is that...?”
“Mother?” he said.
The older Queen opened her arms. “Hello, darling.”
Remy hurried down the stairs, and Margery had to change the shoes on the fly otherwise she was going to break her ankle. This was definitely not your usual Loch Ness monster sighting. Nessie looked like a younger Sophia Loren. She grabbed her son and kissed him soundly on both cheeks.
“Where have you been?” he asked.
She frowned at him. “Have I taught you no manners?”
“Right. Sorry.” Remy cleared his throat. “Queen Margery of Vermont, may I present my mother, Queen Niseag of...” He broke off. “I’m afraid I don’t know your territory anymore.”
Nessie smiled at her son and held out her hand to Margery. “Formerly of Ireland, Scotland, and Wales. Perhaps now that Cassandra has passed into the weave I will be again.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet Remy’s mother. I know he’s been very concerned for you. There have been rumors of Queens being kidnapped and held against their will.” Margery shook her hand.
“Your father would never have allowed that,” she said to Remy.
“Where is he?” Remy looked around the dining room.
“He is guarding the waters of home.”
“And that is?” Remy asked.
The gong sounded, indicating dinner was served, and Nessie chose not to answer him. They took their seats at the large, formal table. Squadrons of Dragon Slayers were at different locations in the room, but instead of feeling safer, Margery started to get a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. It hit her that they were surrounded by an order that killed creatures like them. And they were just going to sit peacefully and have dinner while their potential executioners looked on.
Joachim and Mei Hua sat at opposite ends of the table. Bella, sitting at Mei Hua’s side, faced Margery across the table. Margery was glad that Remy was between her and his mother. She looked over at Lane, who was waiting for Mei Hua to start the meal.
The table was set for an intimate gathering, and while they weren’t on top of each other, the close quarters made Margery twitchy, and Remy grew more and more tense as they waited for something to happen.
Tea was poured, and Margery decided that no matter what, Mei Hua was all right in her book. She drank the fragrant brew gratefully and thought about what questions she should ask Lane.
Joachim was an excellent host, introducing the other human as Sebastian Pierce. His tattoos showed him as a Dragon Slayer. “I’m a chemist. I worked for Cassandra before she was tragically taken from us.” He looked familiar, but Margery couldn’t place him.
“You’ve taken in a lot of Cassandra’s refugees,” Remy said to Joachim, pouring Margery another cup of tea. She drummed her fingers on the table in thanks.
Joachim nodded. “It is the least we can do.”
As the next course was served, shrimp and thin slices of meat, Margery made her play. “So, Lane, how did you come about the pills for Bella?”
Bella rolled her eyes. “Not this again. Aren’t you going to drop the story? I told you it’s not a dragon Viagra. It’s a helpful drug.” She held Lane’s hand.
Lane opened his mouth to speak, but Nessie cut him off. “I can answer that.”
“You can?” Lane asked.
“Probably more truthfully than you.” She sneered at the drake. “The pills were made by Sebastian”—she pointed at the man next to Joachim—“at Cassandra’s request.”
Marger
y almost dropped her chopsticks in shock. “You created BabyDragon?”
Sebastian made a face. “It’s actually called 187-5, but that’s not as catchy as its street name.”
“As you can imagine,” Nessie said. “Cassandra wanted a way to help dragon studs have families.”
“Because she was philanthropic like that,” Remy cut in. His sarcasm could have cut diamonds.
“Hush, boy. Of course, the real reason is she was tired of servicing studs. She figured there were willing human women—why not have them rut with the studs instead?”
“Because they would be half dragons instead of full dragons,” Margery said, her fingers tightening enough to snap her chopsticks. “And their bodies are incompatible and they die.” Her voice rose on the last word.
“Not necessarily,” Sebastian said. “Of course, the hatchling would have some features and DNA from his mother. The stud’s magic would generally overpower all of the human genes.”
“But it didn’t work. It was killing humans.”
Sebastian shook his head sadly. “Not every woman is compatible to host a dragon’s seed, even with the pill. We do very thorough testing before a woman is set up with a stud.”
“We?” Remy stressed, his voice as cold as death.
“I didn’t go through any testing,” Bella scoffed, helping herself to another meat bun and rice.
Nessie fixed a look on Lane. “We had a theft, and several cases went missing.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, but he began to sweat.
“Smythe put them in the Smooshie dolls,” Margery said.
“And Rathin distributed them on my river,” Remy snarled, slamming his fist on the table. It didn’t crack, so it must have been reinforced, taking a dragon’s temper into account.
Nessie nodded. “Before that, Lane—along with a team of mercenaries I’m afraid you’ve run into a few times, Margery—stole a container of pills from Sebastian’s lab on Mykonos while it was on route to me.”
“You have no proof of that,” Lane said, pushing back from the table. “I’m not going to be a scapegoat for another stud’s errors.”
The Queen's Dance: Book 3 of The Emerging Queens Series Page 17
