The Dragon Spy (The Lone Shifters Book 1)

by Michele Bardsley

  Desire seared her as she planted small kisses on his chin and his jaw … until she was drawn back to the heat of his mouth. This kiss was a long, hot duel of tongues, lips, teeth. She felt the slide of his hands to her rear end, the press of his hard-on in the vee of her thighs … oh God.

  They broke apart, panting and dazed, and stared at each other.

  “Wow,” she said.

  “I second that.”

  “You taste like chocolate.”

  “Your favorite,” he said. He reached into the front pocket of his tuxedo coat and showed her a few green foil-wrapped rectangles. “I’m somewhat of a chocolate addict, too,” he admitted.

  “My, my, my. Isn’t this delicious?” asked a cultured female voice.

  Jessica whirled around, and she felt Garrett’s warm hands on her shoulders. For a split second, her backside met his muscled chest, and then he shoved her behind him. She looked over his shoulder at the tall, thin woman who stood not two feet away assessing them the same way a researcher might evaluate lab rats.

  Her long black hair was worn straight, pulled into a sexy ponytail on the top of her head. Her obsidian gaze was as dark and cold as river rocks; her pale skin as pearlescent as a full moon. The only other color visible was the slash of red lipstick on her mouth. Dressed head-to-toe in black leather, she wore a vest and a mini-skirt that hugged her body like a new boyfriend. The thigh-high boots had at least three-inch heels.

  The most impressive item of her ensemble, though, was the 9mm in her right hand. It was aimed at them in a manner that suggested she not only knew how to use the weapon, she relished the idea of pulling the trigger. Her red fingernails looked like droplets of blood on the gun’s gleaming black handle.

  “Where’s the clue?” she asked politely.

  “I see the Black Flame dragons haven’t updated their dress code.” Garrett looked at the gun. “Seriously?”

  “Bullets filled with pure silver will take you down, and trust me, it takes weeks to heal. The clue. Now.”

  Jessica’s gaze went to the floor where the envelope and note lay like two big pink leaves. Shit. This woman unnerved her. The air in the room seemed to crackle with electricity. Jessica swore she smelled sulfur, the brimstone perfume of dragon’s caves. She tended to stay away from the Black Flame dragons. They stuck to their own, holing up in mountain retreats far from the civilized world. It was no wonder this one acted brutish and cold. Black Flame dragons had little regard for niceties.

  With one step, the woman bent and scooped up the note and its envelope. Not once did the gun waver in its deadly aim.

  “You’re Lise,” said Garrett. “The lackey, I mean, enforcer for the Black Flame clan.”

  “And you’re Garrett, lapdog, I mean, disgraced thief for your cowardly Stone clan.” Jessica shuddered at the coldness in her gaze. “Pathetic. Your clan sends a banished dragon and a fallen royal.”

  “You’re no peach, honey,” called Jessica over Garrett’s shoulder. “The 1990s called—it wants its clothes back.”

  “Shut up.” Her expression turned furious. “Did Aiden Kearney really believe he could hand over Giselda’s Egg to whomever he wanted? He invited no one else to this little game.” She aimed the gun at Garrett’s head.

  Oh shit. Shit!

  Jessica shoved Garrett as hard as she could. The unexpected action made him stumble forward into Lise, and they both went down. Garrett landed on top, defending himself against Lise’s flailing arms. She landed blows on his face and neck, but he still managed to wrest the gun from her grip. He had no opportunity to aim it at her. She fought with too much ferocity. Lise landed a punch on his jaw that nearly twisted Garrett off her. He stayed, but the gun flew out his hand, sliding across the beige carpet underneath the bed.

  “You arrogant, stupid asshole!” She screeched. “How dare you!”

  “Get the gun,” he shouted to Jessica. Now that she knew the identity of their unwelcome guest, she knew the woman’s reputation for brutality and skill for fighting had earned her a top spot in the Black Flames.

  Jessica dove for the gun, but couldn’t reach it. With only five inches between the frame and the floor, there was no way for her to scoot under the bed. Her hand strained toward the 9mm, but it remained a scant inch from her fingertips.

  The sounds of Garrett’s brawl with Lise—the squeak of leather, the grunt of struggle, the smack of palm against cheek—propelled Jessica to every side of the bed. The gun had landed in the middle space and the only way to retrieve it would be to if her fingers suddenly grew two extra inches.

  Damn it. She looked around the room for anything else that might help and grabbed the lamp on the bedside table. The cord stalled her efforts and no matter how hard she yanked, the stupid lamp wouldn’t release from the wall socket. She dropped the light; it clattered sideways onto the table.

  “Get OFF me!” Lise yelled.

  “You started this,” grunted Garrett.

  Jessica watched as Lise responded to this suggestion by grabbing a hunk of Garrett’s hair and pulling it like a taffy machine gone wild.

  Adrenaline pumped through her. The fear icing in her veins mixed with the incredible heat of excitement singeing her nerves. What was wrong with her?

  What could she do to help? Her gaze landed on the bed and she grinned. She ripped off the bedspread, stepped onto the mattress, and walked to its edge.

  “Heads up, Garrett!” She tossed the cover into the air. It puffed open like a parachute and floated onto Garrett and Lise.

  She jumped onto the floor, avoided the rolling, squealing blanket of death, and rounded it. Lifting its edge, she peeked under and found herself face-to-face with Lise. The woman managed to free one arm from Garrett’s grip; she latched on and flung Jessica forward, right into Garrett. They fell off Lise, taking most of the bedspread with them. Jessica landed on Garrett’s chest, her arms by her sides, her face pressed into his neck. His cologne was the winter-woodsy scent she noticed before. Great. They were wrapped together like two mummies sharing a sarcophagus thanks to her brilliant idea of flinging fabric at the wrestling enemies.

  Lise freed the rest of her body by kicking the crap out of them. She wriggled out from underneath Garrett’s legs, screaming obscenities, and landed a few more nasty blows with her high heels before escaping.

  Long moments passed as they gathered their wits and their breath.

  Jessica felt fantastic. Utterly, completely, fucking fantastic. Sweaty, hot, scared-out-of-her-mind, heart-beating-a-million-miles-an-hour fantastic. In celebration of her exhilaration, she licked a drop of sweat from Garrett’s neck, tasting salt and the slight bitterness of his cologne.

  What was she doing?

  Oh who cared! She felt glorious. What was wrong with giving in to her to sudden desire?

  She licked his neck again, following another droplet’s trail. Then she kissed all available fresh from shoulder to jaw.

  “It’s not that I don’t enjoy what you’re doing,” Garrett managed. “But what are you doing?”

  “Nibbling.” She paused from her exploration of his earlobe. “Think the bitch is gone?”

  “Probably.”

  “Did she get the clue?”

  “Probably.”

  “Want to have sex?”

  “Prob—what?”

  “Sex,” she repeated.

  “You’re an adrenaline junkie,” he accused, though she noticed his hands had found their way to her buttocks.

  “I guess I am,” she agreed. Her mouth nuzzled on his neck, and she cursed the white shirt denying her the view of his chest.

  “Should we get out of the blanket?” Garrett asked.

  Jessica’s answer was to sit up, which forced the bedspread to go with her. She tossed the fabric behind her then, to the obvious surprise and delight of Garrett, she pulled off her uniform and bra. Before he could do much more than gurgle his appreciation of her 36C breasts, she set to work taking off Garrett’s trousers. She tugged them down his thighs t
aking along his black silk boxers. She had never felt this frenzied before.

  Garrett watched her with a lazy heat, his gaze stroking her bared breasts with enough lust to make her nipples harden and tingle. She noted the rapid rise-and-fall of his chest, and knew he was not unaffected by her actions. Garrett was merely a lion stalking its prey, waiting for the right moment to attack. The shock of that impression sent her blood raging. She couldn’t wait for him to leap, to grab hold, to plunder.

  Her gaze feasted on his circumcised cock. Already at half-mast, the blue-veined flesh was thickly rounded, and she wondered just how long it would be at full hardness. Could she take all of him?

  Damn right.

  The head looked as juicy and plump as a ripe plum and she bent to taste it. Garrett’s groan was an unexpected reward. His hands dove into her hair and the slight arch of his hips encouraged her sensual exploration. Her tongue twirled under the edge of the head. She kissed his cock from tip to base, tasting every ridge, every vein. She took a long moment to worship his balls, suckling, licking, and tasting the male essence of him in every juicy mouthful.

  His moan vibrated to her very core. She was wet, her panties clinging to the swelling flesh of her vagina. She wanted nothing more than to rip off her own jeans and slid onto Garrett’s cock, but first….

  She returned to his fully engorged penis. No denying he was blessed in the family jewels department. He was big—and she liked it. To show her appreciation, she made love to that hard, hot cock with mouth and hands, stroking and sucking until Garrett writhed and moaned.

  “Jessica, you, uh … better, you know. Because, I’m might…oh God.”

  Chapter Five

  No, not yet, big boy. Jessica released Garrett long enough to toe off her shoes and socks. She shucked off the jeans. She didn’t care that she was naked and he was almost fully clothed. It was sexier somehow, taking Garrett like this, trapped by his own clothing the same way she was trapped by her own lust.

  She lowered herself onto him, inch by inch, shuddering as he filled her, stretching her with pleasurable perfection. For a few seconds, she closed her eyes and inhaled steadying breaths. How was it remotely possible she felt on the thin side of orgasm? She was more turned on than she’d ever been in her entire life.

  Garrett’s hands cupped her breasts, his fingers strumming the nipples into taunt, aching peaks. Her eyes flicked open and she met his gaze. His blue eyes challenged her to finish what she’d begun; the sardonic curl of his lips suggested she wouldn’t finish the race.

  The enormity of what’s she’d started with a man she hadn’t seen in fifty years hit her with the same velocity as a meteor tearing into the Earth. Yet, the shockwaves brought not shame, but pleasure. Excitement. Naughty, naughty thrills. Dragons were passionate creatures. And she would not feel badly because she wanted to give in to ultimate pleasure with Garrett.

  Jessica planted her hands on Garrett’s chest and, forgoing anything like slow and easy, pumped up and down on his cock, squeezing and sliding and plunging. She wasn’t exactly an example of precision and grace, but with the steadying hand of Garrett on one hip and the strokes of his thumb on her clit, her eagerness more than made up for any lack.

  “I’m already close,” whispered Garrett as he strained against her, stroke for stroke.

  “Me, too.”

  He fondled her clit faster. She increased her pace, wanting him to come inside her … wanting her own release …

  Sweat dripped between her breasts…

  Her buttocks slapped against the tops of his thighs…

  Moans and pants melded into one sound…

  The orgasm burst, a tsunami of bliss that stalled the breath in her lungs, the motion of her legs. Oh. My. God.

  “Don’t stop,” begged Garrett.

  His cock threatened to slip out of her, but she lowered herself again and resumed her pace, all the while her orgasm crashed through her, the mind-fogging pleasure rolling and cresting like waves lapping at the shore.

  His thumb stayed on her sensitive clit, still stroking, and she gritted her teeth against the almost painful agitation. To her surprise, the sure, small strokes threatened another onslaught of rapture, less intense than the first, but … day-amn. Just as another mind-blowing sensation rolled over her, Garrett grabbed both of her hips. He surged upward, so hard and deep she swore she felt the tip of his penis at the entrance to her womb.

  “Yes,” Garrett cried out. “Yes!”

  He came, a violent jerking that suggested a really strong orgasm, and clenched his teeth, his eyes squeezing shut. After a long, shuddering moment, he went limp, his eyes opened, and their gazes met.

  “That was … amazing,” he said.

  “Yeah.” Just like she’d remembered. They had the same explosive chemistry. And yet, nothing had changed between them. He was still the banished dragon who’d left her.

  “Jessica.”

  “Shhhh. Don’t spoil it with words, Garrett Stone.” She drifted down to his chest and tears crested her eyes when his arms wrapped around her. “I haven’t felt this happy in a long time.”

  “I haven’t, either,” said Garrett.

  ***

  While Jessica turned on the shower, Garrett shed his tuxedo and thought about what the hell had just happened. Did this mean Jessica had forgiven him or was it just the thrilling rush of the fight with Lise that had catapulted her into his arms?

  He had missed her all these years, but he hadn’t realized how much until he’d seen her again. She empowered him, in some weird way. He wanted to protect her, he wanted her trust, her faith … shit. What was wrong with him? Love pays no attention to time.

  His mother’s favorite phrase. He knew a relationship could sustain itself on mutual friendship and common interests, but the heart-pounding, breath-stopping, rose-colored glasses world of True Love was rare, especially in the world of dragons.

  You’ll know when it happens, she told him time and time again, it’s like a veil is lifted from your eyes and the world is suddenly bright and beautiful.

  He felt that way now, the same as he had fifty years ago. Pure and dazzling and joyful. Could she really be his one and only?

  Shit.

  No way.

  Shit!

  To distract himself from the very idea he’d never stopped loving Jessica Kearney, because she was his true soulmate, Garrett made a phone call to one of his favorite shops and ordered some clothes and two pairs of sneakers. He was ready to ditch the uncomfortable and unwieldy tux and the black dress shoes. And he was sure Jessica wouldn’t mind discarding that awful waitressing uniform.

  “Garrett?”

  He got off the bed and walked to the bathroom. Jessica leaned against the doorjamb as steam from the hot water billowed over the shower rod. Garrett couldn’t prevent taking another inventory of Jessica’s commendable figure, from the full, rounded breasts with their cocoa nipples to the flat stomach and gentle flare of her hips. She had long legs and beautiful feet, the toenails painted the same pearlescent pink as her fingernails.

  “I need someone to wash my back,” she purred, grasping his hand and drawing him forward. They stepped into the not-quite-scalding spray.

  “Maybe I should start with the front.” Garrett cupped her breasts, enjoying the sweet weight of the firm flesh. His thumbs flicked across her nipples.

  He leaned down and captured her nipple, already puckered by the heat and the water. A soft moan, a slight shudder emerged from beautiful Jessica. He smiled against her breast, pressing a kiss to the top, then the sides. Water pounded against his neck as he performed this ritual; he felt the scrape of Jessica’s nails on his arms. Desire slammed him, as heavy and thick as before when Jessica had offered herself without reserve, without extracting a single promise of devotion.

  His tongue traced the edge of the areola, encircling the nipple until the only thing left was draw the tender bud into his mouth. He sucked hard, suddenly greedy for the taste of her skin, the heat of her body.
Moving to the other breast, he attempted to give it the same affectionate treatment, but the blood pounded in his skull, an ancient rhythm of lust and need that he gave into willingly, gladly.

  He dropped to his knees, the very image of a slave showing his loyalty to the goddess, and paid tribute to every inch of her skin, from rib to navel, from navel to hip, from hip to the edge of her pubic hair.

  “Garrett … oh Garrett!”

  He took her cries for consent and delved into her soft core. Grabbing her buttocks and pushing her forward, he traced her slick opening with his tongue. Sweet God.

  He felt the trembling of her thighs, the hard dive of her fingers into hair, the long moan echoing in the tiny bathroom. Water battered them endlessly; liquid pearls slid down Jessica’s skin, dropping into his eyes, into his mouth.

  It didn’t matter.

  Only Jessica mattered.

  Only this mattered.

  “Please,” she begged. “Please, Garrett. Make me come.”

  He doubled his efforts, licking her, flicking his tongue, over and over. His erection was harder than a steel rod, and he wanted nothing more than slip inside Jessica, take his pleasure while she found hers.

  Then Jessica tensed, a stillness that lasted an eternity, and screamed.

  Garrett savored the nectar flowing into his mouth. He drank from Jessica with voracious need until he felt the tug of her hands on his hair, drawing him upward.

  When he stood, she kissed him. Long, hot, hard. Her tongue warred with his as her hands slipped down his chest to his buttocks. He felt the squeeze of her hands on his ass, the press of her opening against his the tip of his length.

  Oh God.

  Then, she pulled away from him, stepping back, her eyes still glazed with passion.

  Her wait-and-see smile stalled the question in his throat. She turned around, bent over, and flattened her palms against the tile wall. Seconds ticked by as he looked at her gorgeous ass. Water pebbled on her pale skin, rolling down her lush curves.

  “Garrett? How much of an invitation do you need?”