* * *
Ivan was here. She could smell him over the chlorine. The bastard was watching her. Christina’s feet pushed hard off the tiled wall of the swimming pool and propelled her down the length of the pool towards Ivan’s fragrance. It called to her. Revved her up. Stoked her fury. She leapt out of the water and strode across the deck to her erstwhile lover.
“What are you doing here, Sarkany?” Water streamed off her body as she stood before him. Ivan’s body gave off heat in waves that rippled across her wet skin and made her body throb. She saw his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed hard.
“I wanted a swim,” he croaked.
Christina put her left hand on the tented bulge of his skimpy banana hammock and her right over the winged dragon hovering over his heart. She felt his cock jump and his pulse beat harder. She leaned forward slightly. His chest was heaving as if he had run miles. Sweat beaded his face.
“You want me,” she said clearly into the heavy air, and set her mouth on his sweat dampened skin.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ivan stepped backward and his hands captured Christina’s and pulled them away from his crotch and chest. “No, Christina. Don’t tempt me. I have declared my Mate Hunt. We can’t do this.”
“Do you really want an innocent damsel?” Her face was mocking.
“My desires don’t matter. I must marry and have firelings.”
“This won’t prevent you from knocking up your bride.” She grasped his shoulders and pulled his mouth down to hers. He resisted for a moment before his tongue began to glide along hers and the flavor that was hers alone filled him with delight.
Her wet suit clung to his chest and abs. Desire tightened them so fiercely drawing breath was a strain. He wrestled with the straps to pull them over her shoulders and find her soft and pendant breasts. He remembered those deep rose nipples of hers. How sweet and sensitive they were. For a month he had been dreaming of this sorceress, but the reality was better by far than any dream.
Ivan left the sweetness of her mouth and ran his tongue along her jaw and down to her neck where he nuzzled and nibbled the sensitive tendon. Christina’s breathless moans intensified his own desire. He cupped a heavy breast and teased the taut nipple so that she squirmed closer. Her scent filled his nostrils and made him mad with desire.
He pulled at the crotch of her tank and the sturdy Lycra tore as if it were made of tissue paper. He didn’t care. He wanted that pussy bare. He pushed his own suit out of the way and lifted her onto his cock. At once he felt a sense of peace and rightness that had been denied him since that night in St. Moritz.
She took all of him inside and her legs clamped hard around his waist. Her heels dug into the indentations at the base of his spine. She used her purchase on his shoulders to lever herself away from him before she sank back. Her breath came hard, huffing into his mouth while her tongue and his mated just as furiously as their pelvises.
One of her feet buried itself in the crack of his ass and pressed. He gripped her hips hard enough to bruise and bellowed into her hair. He felt her release as the vibrant echo of his own. Convulsions pulsed through her thighs, buttocks and passage. The ripples sent shock waves through his heart. Reluctantly he let her slide down his body. She was trembling and he held her close until she could stand without falling.
“This was a bad idea,” he said kissing her eyes. “Your uncle, hell, your mother, would kill me if they knew. You better put your robe on and skedaddle.”
“Why?” she asked petulantly. “Who are we hurting?”
Ivan caressed her cheek and laughed bitterly. “Do you honestly think that your family wouldn’t mind that we are screwing our brains out with no thought of marriage?” he asked.
“They don’t have to know. Why can’t we just have some fun before we go our separate ways?”
“You know why. Now disappear, before someone catches us with our pants down.”
* * *
Right this minute, she didn’t much care for herself, Christina decided looking into the steamy bathroom mirror. Screwing Ivan when she intended to marry Felipe was not just crazy, it was skanky. As in flaunt-your-naked-privates-on-the-internet skanky. Blaming her bad behavior on overwhelming desire was childish and dishonest.
Ivan was in the grip of mate lust so profound it had shattered his self-control. But he didn’t know she was a dragoness, so his confusion was at least understandable. She, on the other hand, seemed to have misplaced her sense of honor. It was time, and past time, that she admitted that she was in love with a second son.
She would have to tell her family. At best, Mamma and Papa would be furious. Uncle Thorvald might throw her out of the House. So it came down to cowardice. Nice to know she was a lily livered worm instead of a hearth defender like her ancestresses.
Oskar wouldn’t let her into Uncle Thor’s study, although he did say he would tell the Eldest that she wished to speak to him. Well, she had better do so before the Estremauras arrived. She didn’t think Felipe would give a damn, but his parents would be embarrassed and hurt — and livid.
Mamma and Papa had gone into the village. Which left her chock full of good intentions and no one to confess to. Her restless feet took her out into the gardens and the woods beyond the lawn.
* * *
She was waiting for him when he dismounted from his horse. How had she known he was going riding? Or where on this vast estate he would wind up? Lindorm’s woods were as dim and quiet as if the chateau were a world away instead of just beyond the copse.
“What are you doing here, woman?” Ivan demanded.
“Thinking.”
Christina wasn’t dressed to seduce, he had to admit. Her jeans and striped black and white tee-shirt were casually elegant, but certainly not revealing. But to him she looked like a walking, talking wet dream. He looped the reins he was holding around a low branch and advanced on her. She retreated holding out her hands.
“We need to talk,” she said, hesitant for once.
Ivan laughed. “Now you want to talk? I think the time for talking is past.”
“No, really, Ivan, we need to talk.”
He grabbed her soft round shoulders and spun her into his arms. His mouth crashed down onto hers and he kissed his way from corner to corner of her lips, nibbling and sucking as he went. When he lifted his head at last, her blue eyes were slumberous and her mouth was swollen and even rosier than usual. He chuckled at her dazed expression and fastened his lips to her tender earlobe.
She liked that. He could tell. She moaned in the back of her throat. A soft, sexy, urgent little noise that incited him as the hoarse panting of other women had never done. This woman was a sex goddess, built for him. He pulled her so that the soft mounds of her bosom caressed his chest. The layers of fabric between their skin added a gentle friction. His own nipples stiffened as her bead-hard nubs pressed into them.
He returned to feast on the tender recesses of her mouth, his hands wandered under her tee-shirt and felt for the catch that would release those delectable jugs into his hands. Her skin was warm and silky. Her fragrance intensified as he stood with her between his legs, letting her weight caress his cock.
This little glade was ill provided for a tryst. The ground was bare except for weeds and tree roots. The trees themselves were either rough-barked giants or frail saplings. Behind him his horse shuffled his hooves and blew down his nostrils. Christina took his hand and tugged him along until they emerged in a clearing beside a small pond. A little summer house had been built at the edge of the bank.
“You planned this,” he accused.
“No, not really. I told you I came out here to think.” She pulled him over to the miniature cabin and opened the door. The interior looked like it had been designed for illicit love. It was difficult to imagine any of the dour Lindorms enjoying this frilly little bower. White eyelet frothed from every surface, and the chaise longue had been upholstered in a toile print figured with blue shepherdesses and flocks of blue sheep.
Ivan closed the door and stared down at Christina’s flushed face.
“What is this place?” he asked.
Christina seemed as perplexed as if he questioned her in Cantonese. Her pretty eyes drooped and her neck and face were blotched with the stain of her arousal. She bit her lip and shook her head as if to clear it.
“This place?” he prompted, stroking her cheek with the back of one hand. He was enjoying her confusion, and the illusion it gave him of being in control.
“It just the Lake House,” she stammered. “I think Uncle Sven had it built for Aunt Melisande. Anyway, I know they use it.”
Ivan had a hard time imagining stern Sven Lindorm bringing his starchy wife to this little pleasure palace. But Christina was unbuttoning his shirt and admiring his chest and belly. She ran her fingers over the ridges of his abs and stroked the deep division between his muscles with delicate, taunting touches. He worked his pecs and abs for her and rejoiced at her pleasure in his lively chest and stomach muscles. She made him feel more masculine than he could have believed possible. How was he going to let this female go?
Her fingers were unfastening his belt and fumbling with the buttons of his jeans. His package was a taut bulge that ached and throbbed with every clumsy misstep. He sat down on the end of the chaise longue and drew her astride his erection. Together they rocked like that, enjoying the closeness, prolonging their play. If this was all he was ever going to have of her, he should try to take his time.
Her jeans were damp at the crotch and the scent of her wet sex was a heavy, opulent perfume he wanted more of. He drew her tee-shirt over her head to reveal her unfastened bra. The delicate pinkish cream lace was as innocent and demure as that black number in St. Moritz had been sensual. Her skin was almost the same pale color. Only her puckered nipples were darker. He tasted them through the lace, enjoying the feel of the slight roughness of the fabric against his tongue and the way his suckling made her rub her bottom on his package.
He hadn’t thought her scent could get better. But it did. She was moaning again. He ran his fingers lightly up her satiny skin from her waist to her armpits and down around to the even more sensitive skin on the undersides of her breasts.
“Oh, yes, yes, yes,” she chanted as if she was about to go over the edge. She stiffened and his jeans got a big wet patch right over his business. The delicious aroma almost made him come in his shorts. Truly this woman had been made to electrify his senses.
“I think it’s your turn, lover,” she said reaching for those buttons again. “I made a mess of you,” she said. She didn’t sound sorry.
He swiftly unzipped her and pulled her thong out of his way. He tested her with two fingers and found her so soft and swollen and slick he could scarcely bear it. He lifted her and let her sink down onto his cock. Her legs were trapped by her half-pulled down jeans and she couldn’t get any purchase with her feet or knees.
“My turn,” he reminded her and lifted her entire ass with his palms before easing her down slowly, infinitely slowly, over his engorged love rod. Her passage clung needily to his cock and she made a desperate little mew of discontent, but he was strong. He raised and lowered her at the same excruciating tempo until her face was anguished and beaded with dew. Her blue eyes looked into his but didn’t see him. Her throat was hoarse as she cried his name like a husky plea.
His arms burned, but still he kept the slow pace going. Drawing out their pleasure. Her hands dug into his shoulders and her head dropped back. A formless, keening cry replaced his name. It was time. He blasted them both into the stratosphere. She came with a convulsive clutching of his dick as he flooded her with every dragon seed he could. He let himself fall backward onto the padded seat of the chaise. Their breath was loud and irregular in the little house. They fell asleep listening to each other’s hearts.
He woke to find Christina restoring her clothes. Her curls were a mad tumble that said as clearly as words that she had spent the afternoon making the beast with two backs. He tucked his hands behind his head and enjoyed her lovely body even as she hid it away.
“Everyone will know, as soon as we return to the house,” he said.
“Yes.” She sat down on the floor and retied her shoelaces. “I have never had sex with my shoes on,” she said and blushed a deep crimson.
“Me either. But it was pretty good even without bare feet.”
“I’m doing this wrong,” she said.
“Nah. Looks good to me. You might want to pull your tee-shirt down a bit.”
For answer she sat back down and removed her shoes and socks. That was interesting. She stood up barefoot. The strong arches of her feet, and their coral nails were beautiful and enticing. But when she pulled her denims and panties off that was even more beautiful. Her thighs were round and only slightly abraded by making love without removing her jeans.
“Very pretty,” he said. “I love your muff.” It was true. It was such a prim and tidy landing strip for such a large and bawdy female.
She yanked her tee-shirt off and threw it at him. Ivan brought it to his nose and breathed deeply. “Smells wonderful,” he assured her. She tossed her bra after her shirt and he caught the frail slip of lace with one hand and buried his nose in it. “Hmm,” he said keeping his eyes on her blushing face.
She styled for him, thrusting one hip and then the other towards him. His foolish pecker forgot how exhausting the previous bout had been and jumped up for seconds. Christina didn’t seem to notice. She dropped to all fours and in the blink of an eye she changed.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Never had she felt so vulnerable in her life. Always she had kept her dragon form a secret. Only her immediate family and Uncle Thorvald had ever seen her change. Would Ivan find her plumage beautiful? Christina had never considered whether she or her family were handsome. Well, except for Gunnar. She found her youngest brother’s sweet, adolescent gawkiness both silly and endearing. But at least his bright blue scales were normal. She knew her own translucent, misty blue ones were more than a little odd as dragon plumage went. Would Ivan find them weird?
The change itself she had practiced many times. It scarcely hurt at all anymore as her bones remade themselves and her entire body reshaped itself and grew. The little cottage was perhaps not the venue for a twenty-four foot dragoness to reveal herself. She wound up coiled before her lover, looking uncertainly up at him from her crouched position on the floor.
He didn’t look pleased. He looked furious and mean. Her heart misgave her. Had she risked all for nothing?
“Who do you belong to?” he shouted. His angry words hung between them. She could hardly reply in dragon. She tried a little puff of her smoke to calm him down, but his rage boiled over into more furious words. “Who turned you, you cheating wretch?”
He looked as if he might choke on his spleen. Sadly, Christina began to return to human.
Ivan bent and scooped up her clothes. He glared at her as her glossy, opalescent scales retreated and her massive head and horns turned back into the blonde curls and plump face and body of her human morph. She held out her arms for her things, but he put them behind his back and looked her over scornfully.
“Who turned you?” he demanded fiercely. “Who owns you, woman?”
Christina deliberately folded her arms under her bosom and glared back at him. “No one,” she said. And blushed as she realized that wasn’t precisely accurate. Felipe Balcazar Mendez would probably disagree. “I was born a dragoness,” she tried to explain. “No one turned me.”
He laughed derisively. The brute laughed in her face. He tossed her clothes onto the floor and advanced on her. “You faithless bitch,” he hissed. “Tell me who your master is.”
Christina punched him in the gut. “How dare you call me a liar?” she shouted.
He answered her with a wallop to the ass. He sat down again, pulling her across his lap as he did so. He spanked her until she was shrieking and wriggling with pain and anger. Until her backside burned and her pussy
was on fire. When he was done he set her between his bare legs and held her still with his massive thighs.
“Who are you?” he demanded implacably. His cock poked at her mound.
“I am Christina Lindorm. And I am a dragoness born.” She was shocked at how close to tears her voice sounded. “Let me go.” She pummeled his arms with her fists until he seized them with his own.
“Are you indeed? Then, your ladyship, I claim you by right of capture. Shall we go now to Lord Lindorm and announce our marriage?”
She swallowed bile. “No.” Her words stuck in her throat.
He shook her. “Why not?”
“Because he has arranged my marriage to Lord Felipe of Estremaura,” she confessed.
“What the fucking hell?” Ivan let her go as fast as if she had declared she had Ebola.
Who would have thought a guy who had slept his way across four continents would give a flying fuck about screwing some other guy’s almost fiancée? Her mistake.
Ivan buttoned his shirt and his jeans with unflattering haste and left the cottage without another word to her. Asshole. Talk about your double standard. She thrust arms and legs into her clothes, furious that she was shaking and not just with anger. Who would have thought getting spanked would get her hot? Why the fuck hadn’t she barbequed that bastard? Because she was too turned on to think straight.
He had retrieved his horse and vanished by the time she had dressed herself. Christina wandered back to the chateau well aware she looked disheveled and dissipated. Fortunately, she found the rear side door unlocked, and managed to slip upstairs by one of the servants’ staircases without being seen by any of her cousins.
It was only when she was drying her hair that Ivan’s angry announcement registered. He had spoken those ancient words aloud — to her. He really had shouted, ‘I claim you by right of capture.’ By Dragon Law, she was now his. Perhaps they were like those couples in the middle ages who found that pledging to marry one another even without witnesses was a binding form of marriage — even if the words were not intended or if one of the parties was too young to make a legal contract.
Dragon's Pleasure (BBW / Dragon Shifter Romance) (Lords of the Dragon Islands Book 3) Page 12
