by Alisa Woods
“Erelah, you have to… you’ve got to… stop… I’m going to…” Then he cursed and cried out and held her head while his cock swelled and then convulsed. All of him was cool to her now, even the seed he spilled. It wasn’t inside her in a way that could make them a child, but somehow, she still felt the pleasure of his groans and incoherent mutterings as he slowly came down from his peak.
“Holy fuck, Erelah,” he panted.
She pulled away, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and grinned at him.
“Well, I am an angel,” she said, giving him a playful look.
A growl rumbled in his chest, and before she knew what was happening, he had lunged to pin her on her back to the cool flooring of the cave. “Tell me again where you’re hottest,” he demanded as he pressed the length of his cool body against hers, holding her to the floor.
“Between my legs.” Although, in truth, the battle had moved to her core, just behind her belly, to a spot that felt like the center of her. There, the heat pulsed out in waves, rippling and traveling the length of her body.
Leksander growled, louder this time, and slid his hand down and slipped it between her legs. The heat had inflamed her everywhere, including there, and the wetness made his fingers slip easily along her flesh, teasing it.
She arched up into him.
“You like that?” he asked, voice hoarse.
She didn’t answer, just bucked into his hand and clutched at his shoulders. The pulses of pleasure he was sending through her body buffeted against the rolling waves of power—both dragon and angel.
“Do you like this?” he asked, slipping two fingers inside her, a coolness against the raging heat.
She mumbled a reply, but she was getting lost in the pleasure of his hand, stroking her sensitive flesh, stroking into her and out. She was rocketing to a climax that seemed to pound her not just with flesh against flesh but magic against magic. Each pulse of pleasure rebounded throughout her body until she was writhing under the touch of his hand and the press of his body.
“Leksander!” she gasped, bucking up into his hand.
He pumped harder. “Yes, my love,” he said with a shudder.
“Leksander.” She was lifting off the ground as she bucked, trying to meet his hand with ever more force. “I am yours!” Then the climax rushed at her, and the pleasure consumed her. She came and came, and her body convulsed, and somehow the pleasure didn’t stay contained between her legs but rocketed up through her body, bouncing and spreading and washing everything under in a tsunami of soul-annihilating bliss. The heat grew and grew, and her body kept convulsing with it, only now it was head-to-toe, and everything between. She had no control—none—and the battle had escalated until it was every cell, every scrap of magic, every particle of her being erupting in one giant spasm of love and pleasure.
Then it passed like the sea, and she fell limp to the floor.
Someone was calling her name.
Leksander. Leksander was calling her name. And touching her. Holding her face and her shoulders and her body as he lifted her, cradled her, called to her… she was on his lap again, she could feel it, even against the darkness of her closed eyes, and he was cradling her and rocking her, as one did a small bird who has been injured and one was nursing back to health.
Sound slowly ebbed back, and she could hear him calling her name, over and over.
Slowly, slowly… her eyes blinked open.
Her body hummed with pleasure and love. There was no more pain. No more battle. The two forces felt… fused… as if they had given up the fight and embraced one another in an orgasmic kind of joining love.
“Leksander?” Somehow her voice had gone hoarse. Had she been screaming?
Leksander jerked back and stared at her with wide eyes. “Erelah!”
She smiled up at him from where he held her in his lap.
“You’re… you’re…” His eyes were still panicked. He held a hand to her cheek. “Your fever… it’s broke.” His mouth hung open.
She pulled herself out of his lap and up to kneeling next to him. She had to grab hold of his shoulder because she was momentarily dizzy, but it passed.
Then she turned to him. “I am well.”
He was still gaping at her. “You made it.” A tiny smile hinted at the corner of his mouth.
“I am ready to mate if that is what you mean.” She smiled at him again.
He gave a short laugh like he was choking on it. Then he just shook his head and stared at her in wonder.
“If you need a minute…” she said.
The wonder dropped away, replaced by a hooded look of lust. “I don’t need a minute.” Then he was on his feet, towering over her and holding his hand out to her. “I need you to stand.”
Her smiled tempered, and her face flushed with his commanding words. She took his hand and stood as he instructed. Only when her wing brushed the wall did she notice… they were still there! She twisted around, one side then the other, trying to inspect them, finally remembering she could bring them forward. She did so and quickly ran her hands along them. Even the charred feathers were repaired and pristine!
She flexed them back and looked to Leksander. “I am whole!”
But the smoldering, possessive look had never left his fact. “You are mine.” Then he stepped up as if to embrace her, but instead, he turned her away from him, slipping his arms underneath her wings and roughly squeezing her breasts. She hadn’t noticed before, but his cock was rock-hard again, and it pushed ramrod straight against the serpentine tattoo where it dipped to the small of her back. She could feel it writhe in response. He pinched her nipples just short of painful, and it gushed heat and wetness between her legs. The normal heat… the kind that made her ache for that gorgeously large cock of his to find its way there.
He released her breasts and slid his hands to her hips. “On your knees,” he said hoarsely. She quickly knelt, and he was kneeling behind her before she could look back. “Spread your wings.”
She did so, and they flexed magnificently on either side. She was angelkind. Still. The joy that thrummed through her almost made her laugh. But Leksander’s groan as he stroked the top of her wings outward then ran his fingers through her feathers back in stifled any sound but a sigh of pleasure from her.
“Bend over,” he ordered, his voice rough. She hastened to do so, but even as her hands hit the dirt, he growled out, “Spread your legs.” Not waiting for her compliance, his knee forced its way between hers and moved them apart, baring her sex to him.
A quiver went through her. He meant to take her from behind. It was how she enjoyed it best, and her belly tightened with anticipation of the first stroke.
Leksander growled and grabbed her hips, thrusting fast inside her.
She gasped and lurched forward with the force of it. He was so big. Even now, even after having had him inside her so many times, he still filled her and stretched her and made her gasp. He pulled almost all the way out and thrust in again, grunting as he went. Then he growled and, still buried deep inside her, he planted a hand flat on her back and pushed her down. With the other, he grabbed hold of her wing. Using that leverage, he pulled out and slammed back, filling her to impossible fullness again. Her face was pressed to the floor, Leksander’s hand pinning her there, while her sex was high in the air, being pounded deep and hard by Leksander’s cock. His hold on her wing balanced it all out—push and pull, sweet ache of stretch and a ramming rod of pleasure. He took her, again and again, grunting and growling his way through it. The pleasure coiling deep inside her was something more than she’d felt before—even in this position, even with Leksander’s full passion bearing down on her.
It was her magic. It was thrumming deep inside her, dragon and angel magic mating with one another, joining into a harmonious whole just as she and Leksander were doing. It coiled her tight under the onslaught, working her higher and tighter as she went. As her body clenched down, Leksander cried out and growled and thrust harder
, slamming deeper. Just when she didn’t think she could take the pleasure of him any longer, when she thought she might die of the exquisite torture, something crested, overly full. Her sex quivered and quivered and… finally… let loose, convulsing a shock wave of pleasure through her. Her body squeezed down on Leksander, then the power of it pulsed and blew out in all directions. It lifted her off the floor and threw her and Leksander into the air. She quickly flexed her wings back—including the one Leksander had hold of—and protected them from hitting the ceiling, but the fall back to earth was less graceful. Leksander caught her before she hit, clutching her back to his chest and rolling them both out of the fall. They kept rolling until he was on top of her again, and her back was on the floor.
With a grunt, he shoved her legs apart and thrust back inside her. She arched into him, the sudden fullness rushing her back for another orgasm. His thrusts were even more wild, and this time, he held her down at the wrists, sliding the masculine beauty of his body with all its rippling muscles up and down as he took her. He had marked her, and now he was claiming her. Her second peak was coming fast, but he beat her there, growling and burying his face in the crook of her neck as his hot seed spilled into her with giant gushing waves. He kept thrusting, battering away at her until she came again. This time, she was in possession of her senses enough to channel the power into angelsong—although the sound nearly pierced their ears as it bounced around the small cave, amplifying and echoing.
Leksander lay on top of her, panting and limp, for what seemed like a timeless stretch of seconds. There was only the humming pleasure of her body, the soft whisper of his breath, and the heavy weight of him pressing deliciously down on her. She couldn’t even tell where his body ended and hers began, they were so entwined.
Eventually, slowly, Leksander eased from her body, covering her with a multitude of kisses along the way. She was too spent in every way to move, so she simply lay there as he found a spot next to her, careful of her wing, where he could lie on his side and gaze at her while gently stroking her breast. He kissed her temple, then her nose, then her lips, but feather soft, as if the wild ardor had all been spilled out of him with his seed.
Seed that now lay inside her.
Leksander teased one of her nipples which, impossibly, was already sensitive and puckering up to a point. “God, I love how sensitive your body is.” He leaned down and nipped at the tight bud. “Fuck,” he whispered as he pulled back, shaking his head. “The things I want to do to you, Erelah…” He gave her a sly grin. “Some of them are probably Sins.”
She lifted a hand to his cheek and softly stroked it. “There is no Sin in love.” And she meant that in all seriousness. There was no pleasure she wouldn’t explore—wasn’t desperate to explore—with this man. She could hardly believe that she had survived… all that remained was for her to give him a child, and then they would have all the time in the world. “But if there is some particular Sin you had in mind,” she said, giving him a coy smile, “I shall endeavor to perform it.”
He groaned, and his hand closed around her breast, squeezing it just hard enough to send thrills of pleasure through her already sated body. “You’ll be the death of me, woman.” He ran his tongue along her tight nipple, and that twitched pleasure deep in her belly again. The pleasure hummed like it was resonating, distantly, with her entire magical being.
Only when Leksander pulled back, the humming remained.
She blinked, and the strangest sensation came over her. A presence. A holy presence, like the angels of light had suddenly dropped down from heaven and kissed her belly. It was a life kiss and a blessing rolled together, plus something even more precious—a human soul.
She gasped, shuddering in a breath and stealing a hand across her belly.
She could feel it—a brand new human soul—shining as bright and brilliantly beautiful as any soul she’d ever encountered on earth.
“Erelah?” Leksander had gone rigid next to her. “What’s wrong?”
Tears of joy pushed at her eyes. “The baby.” She turned to face him, heedless of the tears cresting and falling down her cheeks. “I feel our baby.”
His mouth fell open, and the shock on his face would make her laugh if she weren’t so full of joy that any sound other than a breathy sort of cry was impossible.
“You… you can…” His gaze jerked to her belly, and his hand stole over hers. He stared there for a moment, and then wonder filled his eyes. “He has dragon in him,” Leksander breathed. He turned back to her, his eyes shining. “I think. And angel too. And… and a tiny bit of fae.”
She nodded. The fae. The immortal and sworn enemies of all angelkind… and yet her child must carry fae blood if it were to fulfill the treaty upon which humankind depended. “He is truly ours.”
Then Leksander kissed her, and she’d never felt so much joy in her heart. If she were merely human, she was sure she would die of it. Even her angel heart couldn’t contain it. But the strength of Leksander’s dragon magic and his True Love held her together and made all this possible. When he pulled back from his kiss, the shine in his eyes had wetted his cheeks. Or perhaps they were her tears that had stained them.
“I don’t know about you,” Leksander said, his voice choked, “but I’d like to stay in this cave forever. Until the baby is born, at least.”
She frowned. Had all of these grand emotions rattled his brain? “I don’t see how that’s practical.”
He laughed. A snort at first, and then a great shaking laugh where he had to cling to her and laugh into her chest to contain it.
She really hadn’t meant to be funny. She scowled at him until he returned to normal. He wiped tears from his eyes then gently caressed her belly. Deep within, the baby pulsed its tiny magic, responding to the nearness of his father’s magic. That alone made her slight annoyance dissipate into nothingness.
Leksander cleared his throat. “I only meant that virtually everyone will be after us now.” He gazed into her eyes. “The fae. The shadow angels. Maybe even the angels of light.”
She drew back. “Why would—”
He cut her off with a finger to her lips. “It’s probably nothing. But you have to know, my love… everyone has an interest in this baby. For good… and for ill.”
A spasm of righteous fury went through her, along with a stony desire to kill anything that might come close to threatening her child. “I would like to see them try.”
A smile spread across Leksander’s face. “That’s my angel girl.” He bit his lip. “We’ll have to leave the cave eventually.”
“For food. And water. And…” She glanced around. “Proper hygiene.”
He grinned. “Yes. But we can do without those things for a little while.”
She nodded as that was truth, and she was committed to the truth in all things.
His grin tempered into a hungry smile. “Do you know what’s good for baby dragons?”
She lifted her eyebrows.
“Lots and lots of sex.”
She frowned. “I don’t see how sex—”
But he was already rolling her on top of him. She felt him grow hard between their bodies, something she would find impossible if she weren’t already so intimately acquainted with the formidable stamina of a certain dragon prince. He cupped her bottom and eased her up his body, so her lips met his. He kissed her thoroughly then grabbed hold of her hips and lifted her up… then somehow slipped his impressively stiff cock inside her.
He groaned as she settled on him.
She set her knees down on either side of him. With her hands on his chest, she pumped him, just once.
He groaned again. Through gritted teeth, he said, “Lovemaking strengthens our bond. Strengthens your True Love. The baby needs both to survive.”
She lifted again then used a magical assist to slam down hard.
Leksander cursed.
She smiled. “Then we shall make all the love, all the ways, until this baby is born.”
Leksand
er’s eyes rolled back in his head. “Praise magic,” he whispered.
And she set about pleasing her mate, wondering on the perfect beauty of God’s design that this magic of love-making would also strengthen their baby. That was good and righteous and no Sin indeed.
But let no vile person or force or magic threaten her mate or her child…
Or they would know the full fury of an angeling’s wrath.
Leksander and Erelah's story continues in...
CLAIMED BY A DRAGON
(Fallen Immortals 9)
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Of Bards and Witches
London, The Year of Our Lord 1600
Leonidas is a dragon shifter, a century into his allotted five, and he’s entranced by Master Shakespeare’s theatre and the comely and lusty women of London’s bankside. But when he finds a witch in the practice of her art in clear view of the stage, he must act… for dragons are the keepers of the peace between the mortal and immortal realms. But never has duty been so sweetly sexy and delicious to the touch as a witch whose very skin sparks pleasure. He becomes lost in his bed, breaking his own cardinal rule—never seduce a woman for more than a night. As one pleasure-drenched night bleeds into the next, he runs afoul of a danger he ought already know… never cross a witch.
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