Dragon's Pleasure (BBW / Dragon Shifter Romance) (Lords of the Dragon Islands Book 3)
Page 1
Table of Contents
COPYRIGHT
BOOKS BY ISADORA MONTROSE
DRAGON’S PLEASURE
SEXY SNEAK PEAK
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
BEAR SKIN
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
JENNA’S KNITTING SECRET
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
COMING SOON
ALSO BY ISADORA MONTROSE
Dragon’s Pleasure ©Copyright Isadora Montrose 2016
Bear Skin ©Copyright Isadora Montrose 2016
Cover Art by Resplendent Media ©Copyright 2016
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the author, Isadora Montrose.
Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers.
Books by Isadora Montrose
Bear Necessities
Bear Possibilities
Bear Affinities
Bear Infinities
Bear Fursuits Books 1-5
Bear Cubs for Christmas (available only in Bear Fursuits Books 1-5 Bundle)
Bearly Begun
Bearly Enough
Bearly Ever
Bearly Forever
Bearly Beloved
Bear Skin: A Billionaire Oil Bearons Romance
Dragon’s Treasure
Dragon’s Successor
Brides for the Bachelor Bears Books 0-4 Bundle
Bearly a Bride (available only in Brides for the Bachelor Bears)
Dragon’s Pleasure
Amazon Author Page: https://amazon.com/author/isadoramontrose
DRAGON’S PLEASURE
BOOK 3
LORD OF THE DRAGON ISLANDS
by
Isadora Montrose
SEXY SNEAK PEAK
The waiter placed their rhum babas before them with a flourish and left. Christiana forked up a tiny dollop of pale yellow pastry cream. Her pink tongue captured the soft froth before it could fall from her red lips. Ivan’s stomach clenched and his brainless c**k twitched. Christiana smiled at him and desire clenched every muscle in his body. They finished their cake and sipped coffee. Ivan could only hope it would clear the fire from his brain.
She signed for her meal. He signed for his. He rose to his feet. She rose to hers. In heels, her eyes were exactly at a level with his own. He offered her his elbow and felt her gentle touch grip his heart like talons.
“What floor?” he said in the elevator.
“Twelve.” Her voice was low and he felt it vibrate through his entire body.
They were standing almost but not quite touching. The mirrored walls reflected back a tall, elegant, beautifully-dressed couple. She exquisitely fair. He dark. Shoulder to shoulder — like modern aristocracy. Which of course he was, even if she was probably not, despite that van in her name. The elevator stopped. The door opened. Although his room was on the tenth floor, he exited with her. He would walk her to her door. She looked sideways at him. An invitation if he had ever seen one.
She opened her door with a practiced swipe of her key card. He came in behind her. The dark walnut door closed with heavy, quiet solidity. “Shall I go?” he ground out.
Her eyes were luminous in the half-light of the single sitting room lamp. “No.” Her throat moved as she swallowed.
He pulled her into his arms. It felt as if he had been waiting his whole life for the soft press of those glorious breasts against his chest. He took that bewitching, seductive red mouth with his and pressed his yearning tongue home to taste the sweetness within.
She gave a hungry moan and returned the slide of his tongue in a fierce duel. She kissed him as if she too were starving. Her tongue thrust into the recesses of his mouth as if she could not get enough of the taste of him. She tasted of rhum baba and woman. Pure spicy woman. His woman. He growled and hauled her still closer so that her erect nipples ground into the slabs of muscles on his chest. She moaned into his mouth. It was the sexiest sound he had ever heard.
Together they danced toward the bedroom. He maneuvered her so she sat on the turned-down bed. He bent and removed her sandals and tossed them away. Her stockings were sheer and revealed that her toenails were a deep purple — exactly the color of his scales when he took dragon form. He pushed at the hem of her dress, desperate to find the fragrant pussy he could smell so clearly.
“Let me,” she said and stood up.
He could look down on the top of her head now that he had taken off her shoes. “Let me,” she said again and reached for the studs of his pleated shirt. Her fingers slowly unfastened them until she came to his bow tie. He had had to explain many times that it was no clip-on job, but her fingers dealt with it expertly and it soon dangled from either side of his collar. Her hands slid under his black jacket and peeled it down his arms.
It fell to the carpet, but he didn’t care, for she had found his nipples and was tracing them with arousing fingertips before bending forward to lick them. Again she made that murmurous noise of pleasure and contentment. And then she sucked hard on one and his foolish c**k danced and jerked in his pants. She giggled slyly and covered him with one hand and squeezed. Her eyes opened wide as if the size astonished her, which was a flattering trick and wound him still tighter.
And then her hands were at his waist undoing his belt buckle and unzipping his pants. He stepped out of them and stood before her in open shirt and boxers. And socks. But she wasn’t looking at his feet. Her eyes were riveted on his white silk shorts which were tented by his package. She pulled on the waistband and licked her lips before she knelt before him and took him into her mouth.
CHAPTER ONE
It was January. The Gulf of Bothnia was four hundred and fifty salty miles of viscous, lethal soup trying to harden into ice. The rocky shores of tiny Severn Island were crusted with the ice churned up by the rough seas. Both moon and stars were oblite
rated by heavy storm clouds that hurled snow and freezing rain at the sea.
Despite the dark and cold, despite the ferocious wind, two long, winged creatures chased each other with joyful, reckless abandon through the night. They skimmed over the icy Gulf of Bothnia, twisting and darting in the air, flirting with death. Playing tag and singing as they flew.
Christina of Severn whistled lightheartedly at her younger brother and encouraged his awkward flight. Gunnar’s adolescent torso was nearly as long as hers, but his wings were only half the span, and he lacked altogether her sinuous elegance and power. The disparity between his long body and stubby wings gave his movements a graceless jerkiness, but he compensated for his lack of strength with fierce determination.
Gunnar bugled back as he doggedly flapped his immature wings and fought the wind. Christina whistled encouragement to him. She swept her tail smoothly in concert with the gusting winds, using it as a rudder to tack and turn. Despite the opposing gale, she maintained her direction and speed. Gunnar tried the same maneuver, but his tail was too short. Only the frantic pumping of his wings kept him from a disastrous wetting in the ocean. He righted himself and came after her hooting excitedly.
Christina was enjoying herself. She loved to fly, but there were so few opportunities. The archipelago that made up the Severn Islands was full of humans. Ordinary humans. With cell phones equipped with cameras. The days when members of her race could stretch their wings in flight whenever they pleased had been over for centuries. Only on the darkest of nights, in the foulest weather, could dragons take to the air and practice their ancient skills.
Of all her family, she alone had the rare talent to make herself invisible in dragon form. But going invisible took so much energy that it was not a particularly practical gift. As much as she loved the excitement of taking risks, she had never tried to become invisible in the air. The likelihood was too great that any such experiment would simply send her plummeting unseen to her death. That was too much buzz even for her.
Fortunately, she adored storms. Something about lightning and thunder and savage winds excited her. Flying into the teeth of a gale was the most delightful sport. Hands down it beat sailing, skiing or sex. Tonight, she had hoped that taking dragon and enjoying the stimulation and pleasure of flight would cure her lonely, restless anxiety. So far it hadn’t worked. Usually physical activity would clear her mind and let her focus. Not tonight. This situation with Felipe had no easy solution.
She executed a fat, leisurely somersault to check on Gunnar’s progress and was surprised at how sluggishly he was moving. She saw him lose altitude and scramble to recover. For a moment she feared he would crash, but he again flapped those ridiculous, dumpy, adolescent wings of his and gamely tried to catch up with her. Christina slowed her mad rush. She was not going to outrun her demons, and trying to do so might cost her brother his life.
She contented herself with another couple of barrel rolls which she was pleased to see Gunnar did not attempt to emulate. It was time for her brother to land. He was only half-grown and visibly tiring. He was probably still too clumsy for her to have led him so far out to sea. If he fell, he would have difficulty getting airborne again. Even a dragon could die in these freezing waters. She had been selfish to risk his life with hers.
Christina wheeled in the air and headed back towards the shore, shrieking at Gunnar to follow. He whistled back gamely and lumbered in to make landfall on the ice covered rocks. His landing was a messy affair of flailing limbs and lashing tail, but he scrambled agilely enough up the slope.
From the air, Christina watched as his uncoordinated waddle took him swiftly up the steep rock face and on into the cavern that led back to the house. He had botched his landing, but he would learn, and as he grew he would become more graceful. She loved all three of her brothers, but Gunnar held a special place in her affections.
Perhaps because he was the youngest, and she had been as much mother to him as sister. She had been twelve when her mother had put baby Gunnar into her arms. His sweet scent had captivated her then and she had a soft spot for him still. Even though, at fourteen, he was growing up fast, he was still her baby brother.
She herself, however, wasn’t done with flying yet tonight. In fact, she had barely begun to stretch her muscles. She needed to think. She circled until she had regained her lost altitude and was flying just under the heavy clouds. Severn Island was not really a single landmass, but rather a series of islands. Just one of the many archipelagos that dotted the Gulf of Bothnia. She would fly from end to end of Severn before returning home.
Each separate strip of land had a narrow margin of bare and sandy soil around a forested interior. Only the hardiest of plants grew at the shoreline, where salt water and ice regularly battered at all living things. The exposed rocks were black with sea weed and clinging mussels and other mollusks. From the air the knife-sharp rocks looked like a frilly black lace decoration added to the spiky dark green forest. In reality, they were an effective and destructive deterrent to intruders.
The central island where Mamma and Papa had built their home was always above water. And like the notched ridges of a dragon’s back, rocky strips of forested land extended away from that central island to the north and south. These high areas were broken up by the ocean whenever the seas were high enough. In the winter, between the patches of forested land, layers of ice often piled up into an uneven and unstable surface. Theoretically, this treacherous bridge could be traversed by a determined mortal, if he was willing to clamber over the ice pack and chance hypothermia if the ice split and dumped him in the freezing water.
Anyone attempting to land on the shores of Severn Island risked having his craft run aground on the deadly rocks, or being sliced to shreds if he was thrown onto them. Only her family knew where the channels were safe from sandbars and rocks, and how to pilot a boat safely through the waterways to safe harbor. Lindorms had been sailing these waters since they had first dragged their longships onto the sandy beach at Lind Harbor.
From long habit, Christina kept an eye out for intruders as she and her brothers had been taught to do. She had never had her vigilance rewarded by catching a trespasser. Nevertheless, she watched the choppy waves and the gleaming edges of her ice-wrapped island.
From the north, flying directly at her, two dragons as long and large as she, appeared on silent wings. They called a bugling challenge to her. The wind suddenly increased in violence and volume. Sleet stung her body and slicked her wings with ice. The air resonated with louder groans as more ice was thrown onto the rocks by the freshly enraged ocean.
Christina compensated for the blast of freezing rain, by fluttering her wings. The icy mantle enveloping them shattered and broke off. The approaching dragons did the same and in moments they were flying above her sheltering her body with theirs. Together they crowded her toward the closest landing point and forced her down.
Christina didn’t want to land, but she was no match for Theo and Victor. Clearly, her older brothers had decided that flying had become too dangerous — for her. It was infuriating, but there wasn’t much she could do about it without actually fighting them. She aimed for the tunnel of Loge and set her huge rear feet on the single flat-topped rock outside the entrance. She braked and folded her wings against her body in one tidy move. Above her, Victor whistled cheerfully, circled, dipped his wings in farewell, and flew off to continue his patrol. Theo landed heavily beside her and herded her into the mouth of the tunnel ahead of him.
Christina crawled into Loge and made her way to where they could find clothes and privacy. She returned to human quickly and neatly. She was proud of the rapidity of her change. She wrung the wet out of her long hair and tied it into a rough knot on top of her head, before scrambling into the men’s jeans and sweater she found in an alcove. Although she was a full six-foot-tall, with well-muscled arms and legs, the clothes didn’t fit her. She thrust her feet into boots, they fit even worse, being sized for male Lindorms clodhoppers, but
they would get her home. She grabbed a flashlight, and emerged to find a thunderous Theo waiting for her.
Theo was the eldest of them and the bossiest. He was taller and broader even than Papa and spent as much time or more than her father drilling his siblings. He had pulled on a heavy, dark fisherman’s sweater and black pants. The tunnel was only dimly lit, but Christina could tell by the jut of his curling beard and the set of his shoulders, that he was furious.
“Let’s go,” he said between his teeth.
Christina braced herself for the coming lecture. Theo did not disappoint, but the reason for his displeasure put her on the defensive.
“What the fuck were you doing taking Gunnar out into a storm?” he demanded setting one large hand in the small of her back to chivvy her through the tunnel faster. In the dark, she stumbled on the uneven rock floor and staggered. Theo caught her arm and held her upright but he didn’t slack his pace.
“Hey,” she objected trying to twist out of her brother’s grasp. “Gunner wanted to fly. He enjoyed himself. He needs the practice. We all learned to fly in storms.”
Theo swore long and eloquently. He had been an officer in the Swedish Royal Navy for over fifteen years, so he used some words that were new to her. Christina filed them away for later. “Gunnar is only fourteen,” he said furiously. “What the fuck did you plan to do if he went ass over teakettle and landed in the sea in a Category Three hurricane?”
“I’d have pulled him out and carried him to shore,” she said hotly. “I’m not a fool — or a weakling.”
“I beg to differ.” Theo’s deep voice battered her ears. “Have you ever tried to lift a dragon before? No. Have you ever tried to lift a drowning, ice covered dragon in a choppy sea? No, and no, and no! When are you going to grow up, Chrissy? Your irresponsibility nearly got Gunnar killed tonight. What in the name of the stars and sun got into you?”
“It wasn’t that bad out!” she defended herself. “And Gunnar got safely back to shore.”
“No thanks to you. You have always been spoiled, Chrissy, but since you graduated last year you’ve been worse than ever. Mamma and Papa may be prepared to give you your head, but I’m not about to see you endanger Gunnar. Do I make myself clear? Whether I am home or not, you don’t take him flying without my or Papa’s permission. Understood?”