DragonMate

by Jory Strong

  He wanted to feel her mouth on him. But even completely sated, he doubted he could hold himself into a human shape if she touched her lips to his rigid organ.

  “Disrobe for me, Jazzlyn,” he said, tightening his fingers on his throbbing penis, using pain to keep from pouncing.

  Desire made Jazzlyn feel lightheaded, as did the sight of him standing in front of her, his hand on his hardened cock. The way his fingers tightened, the knuckles paling as if the only thing keeping him from coming was the pain of his grip, was incredibly erotic.

  It was exhilarating, an amazing boost to her self-confidence. And it was more, a soul-deep reassurance she wasn’t alone in feeling powerless against the desire burning incendiary-hot between them.

  Trembling fingers went to the hem of her blouse. She was glad there were no buttons to deal with because she didn’t think she could manage them.

  She tugged upward, aware of the way Kirill’s nostrils flared as her midriff was exposed. A needy sigh escaped as she drew her blouse over the tight, sensitive points of her nipples.

  Nervousness fluttered through her as the blouse dropped to the floor and her fingers went to the front clasp of her bra. She fumbled then, and in a blink his hands were covering hers, his body crowding hers.

  She moaned when the clasp gave way and he took possession of her breasts, cupping them, tormenting them with his fingers, his eyes burning with so much lust she arched her back, dared to whisper, “Put your mouth on me.”

  He intended to put his mouth on much more of her. It was there in his expression.

  His head lowered. Firm masculine lips captured her nipple, sending flashes of hot need downward. His tongue rasped over the taut areola and her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him to her.

  She couldn’t remain still when he began sucking. His lips and tongue worked in perfect concert, gentle at first, then dominant and possessive.

  Every pull sent exquisite sensation from her nipples to her cunt. She ground against his erection, rubbed her hardened clit against his rigid cock until with easy strength he lifted her into his arms and carried her the short distance to the bed.

  His earlier command for her to strip was forgotten as he set her on her feet then immediately freed her skirt. It pooled at her feet, leaving her standing in short heels and dark blue panties.

  Satisfaction glittered in his eyes. His thumbs rubbed over the waistband before hooking, tugging, so the panties joined the skirt.

  Chapter Five

  Jazzlyn stepped out of her shoes then moved into him, trembling with her need to rid him of his clothing. He allowed her to peel his shirt away, revealing sleek muscles and tight abs. A tattoo above his left nipple made her laugh softly even as she remembered that instant when she caught his image in the mirror and thought it was overlaying that of a dragon.

  “Why am I not surprised?” she asked, tracing the blue and silver beast stretched out in flight.

  He shuddered under her touch, drawing her closer, making it impossible not to lean in and press a kiss to the tattoo before moving lower and catching his nipple between her lips, sucking.

  A growl was the only warning he gave. A sweep of his arm and the bed was cleared of gems and books, and then she was on it, hands pinned to the mattress, his body a hot, heavy weight on top of her.

  He tugged at her bottom lip, sucked it into the wet heat of his mouth and sent a jolt straight to her clit. She was so wet for him, so ready.

  The feel of him above her, partially clothed while she was completely naked seemed decadent. And yet it thrilled her in a dark, unexpected way, made her feel vulnerable, submissive.

  White-fire raced down Kirill’s spine, spilling around to cup his testicles and burn away the magic holding his penis into a human’s shape and size. The ridges beneath his cock head throbbed as he filled to his true length and width.

  He’d waited too long, and would wait even longer. She was his and he wouldn’t mount her until he’d tasted her, until he’d pleasured her so thoroughly she’d be ready to take a dragon’s cock.

  The magic would hide him again after the first release. Only then would it be safe to strip completely and be naked with her, to luxuriate in the feel of so much skin against skin.

  A shudder went through him. He relinquished her lips and kissed downward, keeping her hands prisoner against the mattress.

  Having her open and helpless satisfied something deeply primal in him, even as her willingness to let him take her intensified the hunger. Perhaps it was why the males of his kind had always been drawn to human females. They were physically frail, defenseless against a dragon’s strength, making the capture of their love and trust, as well as their bodies, the true prize in claiming one of them as a mate.

  The sight of her love-abraded nipple made him purr in satisfaction. He lingered on its twin, laved and bit, suckled until there was no mistaking he’d claimed them both.

  He wanted to admire them further, but her heady scent and the feel of her bare mound against his abdomen drew him downward. He kissed his way to slick, heated woman’s flesh and then could only stare, transfixed, as if he were caught in the snare of an exquisite gem.

  Everything about her was beautiful to him. Everything about her spoke to his deepest instinct to possess and hoard and protect what was his.

  Flushed folds parted to reveal a rosy slit. Plump lips glistened, begging for his kiss.

  It was a temptation no male could resist.

  “Mine,” he said, rubbing his mouth against her hot skin and lapping his tongue through her slick center.

  She pressed into him, like a cat wanting more of his petting and he was only too happy to accommodate her, to immerse himself in touch and taste and scent.

  It was more than lust, more than a dragon wallowing in treasure. Each cry of pleasure he rung from her with the thrust of his tongue, with sucking, biting kisses, spread wild joy through him, promised a life of laughter and happiness, contentment and family, an end to the loneliness that had marked centuries of his existence as he’d single-mindedly pursued an end to the sorcerer’s curse.

  Jazzlyn. Her name pulsed through him with every beat of his heart. Her claim to him was already soul deep.

  There would never be another female for him. She was his first. She was his last.

  Kirill trembled, feeling the magic shimmer in warning that soon the truth of his cock wouldn’t be the only one revealed. With a final kiss, with one last thrust of his tongue into her heated core, he forced himself away from her cunt.

  Somehow he managed to get the front of his pants open. A raw moan escaped as he took himself in hand. His hips bucked and only the pain of his fist tightening around his shaft kept him from desperately pumping through his fingers and spewing his seed.

  Her hands tangled in his hair, urging him upward, back to her mouth. He obeyed, careful to keep the dragon ridges concealed beneath his fingers.

  He fought to prevent the mating spurs at his wrists from descending and filling with serum. Tension vibrated through him but he couldn’t ignore her breasts when his lips drew close to them.

  A hard, quick suck had her arching her back, whispering, “Please Kir, please. I need you inside me.”

  Kir. The nickname blossomed in his heart, an unfurling of adoration with a tiny, hidden gem at its center, a private, intimate gift she’d given to him.

  He took her mouth with his, thrust his tongue against hers as he guided his cock head to her opening. It was exquisite agony and unbearable pleasure, beyond anything he could have ever imagined to lie with her skin-to-skin, to know a female, his mate, for the first time.

  He tried to go slowly, afraid of hurting her with his size. He wanted to commit every inch of sensation to memory as he slid inside her.

  Kirill lifted his face so he could memorize her expressions. Her skin was flushed, her lips swollen and wet from his kiss, her eyes dark and smoky with lust.

  Unparalleled ecstasy surged through him as her sheath swallowed him, rippling h
ungrily over the ridges on his penis, drawing him deeper. He shuddered as her fingers raked through his hair, her hands moving to his back, her fingernails against his skin freeing his dragon nature.

  There was no thought but to take her. To pound into her ruthlessly and claim her.

  The bed shook with the force of his thrusts. The apartment filled with the sound of his heavy breathing and her cries.

  She clung to him, climbed with him. Grew as desperate for the hot fury of release as he did.

  Heat shimmered in waves around and in him, built until he feared the apartment would go up in flames with his next exhalation. Fire, only barely extinguished and turned into a shout, erupted when her channel clamped down on him savagely, her release triggering his and causing jets of semen to flash through his cock, scorching and consuming him.

  He collapsed, sweat-slick and shaking, but still cognizant enough not to crush Jazzlyn beneath him. He cradled her to him, burying his face in her soft hair, breathing in their mingled scents and taking great satisfaction in the way she trembled and clung to him in the aftermath of passion, in the way she still held him inside her body, as if she were reluctant to part from him.

  Parting from him wasn’t an option. It would never be an option.

  As soon as this matter of her cousin was taken care of, they’d cross into the dragon’s realm and he’d have her safely ensconced in his lair. Xanthus and his mates could see to packing her gems and books and tools, dealing with her apartment and disposing of her car and any of the other things she would no longer need—like clothes.

  Kirill smiled at thoughts of keeping her naked. He closed his eyes, intending to savor the bliss of having her snuggled against him for a few minutes before taking her again. But worry slid in, an insidious chill that grew as he imagined her reaction to learning he’d taken her to a different realm, one inaccessible to her family and friends.

  In the old days, a female taken by a dragon was presumed dead. Rarely were they searched for. In fact, they were often virgins, given in sacrifice to a dragon, in the hopes livestock would be left unmolested and village buildings wouldn’t be reduced to ash.

  In these current times…

  The uneasiness grew in Kirill. He’d been in this realm less than a full day and already he was anxious to return to the peace of his own, where he could soar in his first form, where it wasn’t a constant struggle to keep from torching his surroundings.

  His anxiety grew when he felt Jazzlyn’s heart rate accelerate. Her body lost its soft lassitude and she tried to pull away from him.

  Instinctively he tightened his arms. The very tips of his mating spurs descended, dragon nature asserting itself in the presence of a human female who might need to be rendered unconscious so she could be carried home.

  He struggled to find words that would state his intentions without making her run from him. In play he would enjoy chasing her, swooping down on her in dragon form and capturing her. But after having her beneath him willingly, he had no desire to have her flee in fear or to see terror in her eyes when he ultimately found her again.

  Jazzlyn’s hands left his back to wedge themselves between their two bodies. Her palms were flat against his chest, pushing gently as though she weren’t yet fully committed to extricating herself from his arms. He grunted when her lower body ground against his, sending a hot pulse of need through his cock.

  The feel of him hardening inside her increased her struggles. But her struggles only fed a savage, fiery circle of lust.

  “Keep that up and I’m going to breathe flames,” he panted, the words impulsive.

  Apparently it was the right thing to say. She laughed and some of her tension melted away.

  Kirill rubbed his cheek against hers, wanting to soothe her further. He rolled so his body once again pinned hers to the mattress.

  Reflexively he thrust. She felt too good for him to remain still.

  Apparently that was the wrong thing to do. She stiffened.

  “Don’t. We shouldn’t.” And then in a soft, barely discernable voice. “Not again. Not without protection.”

  Protection? By the Great Shared Ancestor, what was his mate talking about? What greater protection did she need than to be with him?

  Jazzlyn braced herself, not sure how he was going to react, not believing she’d been so stupid. She knew better! She’d even had a fleeting thought about tormenting him as she slid a condom onto his cock, but she’d been lost the instant he’d put his mouth on her cunt.

  As the silence lengthened without him responding, she filled it nervously. “It should be okay. I’m not on the Pill but I’m pretty regular. It’s…I just…I don’t think there’s much chance of getting pregnant right now. But it would be better if we don’t risk it.”

  He relaxed against her though he didn’t pull from her body. His lips nuzzled her ear, sending a shiver of pleasure through her.

  “There is no risk. Fertility is a problem for all those I’m related to, except for Xanthus. It would be nearly impossible for me to get you with child now.” He guided her hand to the dragon on his chest. “But if by some act of fate it did happen, you are mine, Jazzlyn. I take care of what belongs to me.”

  His lips captured her earlobe. He sucked, making her inner muscles tighten on a cock that had grown even harder.

  She let her worries go, trusting in him as well as in her knowledge of her body’s cycles. Pleasure fogged her mind. Sharp spikes of need made her channel clench and unclench on his penis when he released her earlobe in favor of fucking into her ear canal.

  Her sheath gripped and released in time to the wet probing. Her hips rose off the mattress, forcing him to fill her more completely, to claim her more deeply.

  He moaned and thrust harder, as if he’d pound his claim into her very soul. His tongue mimicked the dominance of his cock.

  Need roared through her like an out of control fire, leaving her helpless to do anything other than writhe and cling. His possession was a blend of pain and pleasure, the size of his cock almost more than she could bear, and yet each stroke made her crave another and another, hunger for the hot wash of his seed and the satisfaction of knowing he desired her.

  His thrusts grew faster, more frantic. More desperate. His arm slid under her, lifting her, changing the angle. “Come for me,” he said against her lips.

  There was no escaping the ecstasy as he struck her clit with each hard thrust, sent release searing through her, then followed her into orgasm with raw, uncontrolled shudders and fiery jets of semen.

  She didn’t pull from his arms afterward. It felt too good to be there, and besides, she doubted he’d let her.

  At the very edges of her hearing she could swear she heard him purring. Not the rumble of a cat, but what she imagined a dragon would sound like as it lay on a pile of treasure.

  The thought put a smile on her face. She couldn’t resist the urge to press a kiss to the tattoo on his chest. “It suits you.”

  His fingers caressed her nipple then the spot above it. “But it will be far more satisfying to see it on you.”

  The words sent a flutter through her belly, part nervousness and part hope. She wanted to believe in Aislinn’s mirror with its heartmate stone border. She wanted to believe there was a future with Kirill.

  Did that make her incredibly foolish? Or hopelessly romantic?

  The sound of music turned her thoughts to Carolyn. “That’s my phone,” she said, scrambling from the bed and hurrying to the door where she’d dropped her purse on the floor without even being aware of it.

  She was breathless by the time she answered. Her heart rate sped up when she heard Caro’s voice on the other end. “I only have a minute before we head out again. Mark said I needed to give you a call and let you know I’m okay.”

  There was something in Carolyn’s voice that had the worry settling once again in Jazzlyn’s gut. “Are you?”

  “Of course. I know I missed Nana’s party, but if you’d ever let yourself get over that bo
yfriend you had in high school, you’d know how being with someone you’re crazy about trumps other activities. You met Mark. He’s nothing like John Lamford.”

  Ice filled Jazzlyn’s chest as worry for Caro turned into fear. John Lamford was Caro’s high school boyfriend, not hers. He was the first and only one of them Jazzlyn had ever thought was decent.

  She tried to keep her voice casual as she asked, “Where are you?”

  “I’m—” There was a sharp inhalation on the other end of the phone, followed by a murmur Jazzlyn thought might be Mark talking, then Caro said, “I need to cut this short. Worry about yourself, Jazzlyn, not me. I can take care of myself. Bye.”