Granite

by Ronin Winters

  I’m talking to my dragon, and telling him I’ve thought about what I want to do to him. I’m just wondering if he shared those thoughts.

  Pure pleasure curled through him at being referred to as her dragon, enough to almost obliterate the sensual heat that exploded at her admission. I have. These last weeks have been nothing except thinking of you.

  And what have you thought about?

  One image rose to the surface amongst the myriad thoughts. It was Frost in his grandmother’s kitchen. They were sitting at the table with her in his lap. His grandmother kept putting food down in front of her and admonishing her to eat. His mother and sisters would tell her every horrible thing he did growing up, and his myriad nephews and nieces would be running around the house, eliciting the occasional yell from a parent to slow down. And through it all Frost would be smiling, laughing even as she heard yet another story that supported her math nerd image of him. I’ve thought of you at my grandmother’s house. All of the women would gang up on me and tell you stories that would confirm I really am a nerd, and you’d all laugh at my expense.

  It wasn’t the response she was wanting. He might have made a tactical error in moving too soon too fast. She wanted to play, and he had, in essence, confessed his feelings for her. But he had to. It had felt wrong to let her think he’d do this with anyone else, that these last weeks were only because he was searching for an attractive female body or any crap like that. She saw that so often in her day-to-day world, and he couldn’t handle being lumped in with that type of man.

  Emma.

  What?

  My real name. It’s Emma. I want you to introduce me to your family properly, though they can call me either Frost or Emma after that. I like both, really.

  The breath he released was not a sob, and no one was around to disagree. Taking a moment so his fingers could stop shaking, he typed out, Can I still call you Frost?

  I hoped you would. So, any thoughts on what you might do about this?

  A picture followed the text, showing from her ear and the side of her face down the length of her gorgeous neck, ending at her collarbone.

  Granite swallowed, his fingers now trembling from a different source of emotion. Do you like having your neck kissed?

  Love it. I especially love when someone marks me up.

  How he had imagined marking her up. He’d spend hours nibbling on her if she’d allow it, starting at her neck and ending at her ankles, and not a sliver of skin in-between would have been missed by his teeth and tongue and lips. I want to whisper in your ear and make you laugh as I do. I want to feel your breath on my neck while the vibrations of your laughter travel through my body. Then I want to nibble my way down until I’m sucking on your neck. I want to leave a bruise so large and so dark make-up couldn’t cover it.

  I think my dragon is a little possessive.

  Your dragon is a lot possessive. His dragon threw its head back in agreement, wild within him at his mate’s written words, how she was accepting their claim on her.

  A new picture, one that had him leaning heavily in his chair. Frost was wearing a black bra, a small thing made of lace and strings and not much else. However, for this picture, she had pulled down one of the bra straps so it now hung limply from her arm, causing the bra cup to slip down and reveal the top of her pretty pink nipple.

  His next text was sent before he could rethink the words. Pinch your nipple. Next picture, I want to see it pointed and tight.

  Thirty seconds passed before the next picture came. Now her full nipple showed above her bra cup, the tip tight. Then her words followed the picture. I want you to put it in your mouth and suck. I want your tongue running over it, and your teeth nipping it. Maybe you could even run the head of your cock over it. It would be another way to mark me, right?

  His dick went to rock-hard ready at that image, of him putting his cock between her full lips so she could wet him, then using that wetness to trail over her breasts. Fucking hell, please let me.

  Take off your shirt and send me a picture of your chest.

  Her wish was his command, and in short order she had pictures of his arms, his chest, and his cock straining the confines of his slacks.

  Now another picture from her came through. She was laying down, the camera directed to show the length of her body from her breasts to her legs. Gloriously naked, her full breasts no longer restrained by the bra, and if she had been wearing underwear, she wasn’t now.

  She had a small triangle of curls between her thighs only a little darker than that on her head, and he loved that she did, because he liked nothing more than to nuzzle into those hairs and inhale. Now, with the added satisfaction that the scent would be his mate’s, there was the very real fear that once he got her naked, he’d never leave her alone.

  Are you going to touch yourself to my picture?

  A war could break out around him and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself after reading those words. His dick bobbed as it was set free, and with a hiss he wrapped his hand around himself, taking a picture with the other. Only you do this to me. Are you wet to the thought of me?

  He stroked himself as he imagined her licking her lips as she took in his picture, her body dripping as it readied itself for him.

  As if his thoughts made it a reality, the next picture was taken between her spread legs, giving him a close look at her pussy. Two fingers were shown to the camera, the wetness on them visible. That’s what your pictures and your words and your cock do to me. I’m so wet my fingers are slipping from my pussy.

  Rub your clit. Show me.

  The picture was a close-up of that tight little nub, one manicured finger on the side of it, as if she took the picture mid-circle, moisture still shining over her hand.

  His orgasm washed over him, spurts of come decorating his bare chest as he worked himself through every aftershock, and every time he thought he’d finish, another look at the picture would cause yet another small tremor.

  When he was finally finished he took a picture of his cock laying against his stomach, stripes of come over his torso. That’s what you do to me.

  It was two minutes of silence before another picture appeared. This one was her face, eyes languid, mouth slightly open, the two fingers she’d been using to play with herself now resting on her mouth. This is me after that picture made me climax. I’m tasting my release on my fingers. If you were here, I’d put my fingers in your mouth and make you lick up every drop.

  You wouldn’t make me. If I were there, I’d spread your legs and dive in until I licked every bit of you, and then I’d make you come again, just to repeat the process.

  Is that so? Then I think I know what your first challenge will be when I get my hands on you.

  Chapter Seven

  She was lying in bed, phone pressed against her ear since she and Granite had graduated from texts to phone calls, curled up in the time-honored way teenage girls did when they were speaking to their crushes. True, Frost might not be a teenager anymore, but she was feeling that way lately, the way her stomach swooped and her palms sweated anytime she was connected to Granite, even though they’d still had yet to meet since that day in Sophie’s tea shop.

  “Let me take you to dinner,” he said, his voice low as it caressed her during their midnight call. “Give me a chance to spoil you.”

  “And what exactly would this spoiling entail?” She tried to put a slight tease into her voice, to cover up the sudden nerves at his words, and then the flush of anger which ripped through her, that she was nervous at all.

  He was suggesting meeting for dinner, something she’d done dozens of times. In fact, she knew him better – liked him more – than anyone else who’d ever made that invitation, and she’d never thought twice about accepting when the offer had occurred before. Only now, her body stiffened at the thought, a rumble of unease tracing her spine over what should be a thoughtless pleasure.

  “We don’t have to.” His voice was soothing, and that combined with his words
told her she hadn’t hidden that bout of nerves like she wished she had.

  “You know what happened to me.” Dammit. Dammit! She hadn’t meant to say anything. She didn’t want to talk about it now, not when she was under her blankets with his voice low in her ear. These times had always been magical to her, and she didn’t want to introduce the real world.

  “Yes. I’d undo it in a second if I could, even if it meant-” His voice choked. He cleared it and went on. “Even if it meant I would never have met you.”

  With those tones, that tremble, Granite made the words sound like the worst torture that could ever occur, and that he would rather ask for any other fate to befall him.

  The wolf’s head perked up, its laser focus on the male at the other end of the call. It whined, calling to him, a rumbling growl and a sharp desire she’d never experienced from it before.

  His reaction, and the wolf’s, buoyed her, and gave her a strength that had been missing until now. She wanted to see Granite again, so badly some night’s she couldn’t sleep for thinking about him. Maybe it wouldn’t be comfortable. Maybe what they had wouldn’t translate once they were sitting across from the dinner table. But she wanted to know, and damned if this prick of fear inside her would stop it.

  She cleared her throat and turned her mind back to their discussion. Maybe she wasn’t ready to be part of the wolves world yet, but this she wanted to know. “You’re still searching for them?”

  His voice was steady again when he replied, “Us and the wolves. We will find them.”

  “And what will happen then?”

  There was a silence that spoke of a man preparing to speak a vow, and then Granite said, “I will skin them and lay their pelts at your feet.”

  ************

  Was this the way those involved in internet romances felt, the first day they were going to meet their online sweethearts in the flesh?

  Frost smoothed her skirt over her legs yet again, looking around the elegant restaurant to search for Granite. Even though she’d been early she’d been seated by the maître d immediately and given some wine which was probably ridiculously expensive, but it tasted wonderful. This being spoiled thing wasn’t so bad.

  And then Granite was walking towards her, and though it shouldn’t be possible, he was even more handsome now than when she’d seen him at Sophie’s. His eyes shown in delight, a smile lingering on his lips as he took her in.

  He sat before she had a chance to rise, placing his hand palm up on the table, leaving it her choice whether to take it or not.

  She took it, reveling in finally knowing the texture of his skin, warm and smooth and perfect in hers. Her smile felt like it was taking up half her face, but she couldn’t lessen it at all. “You really are a nerd. I don’t feel a single callous.”

  He laughed, ducking his head for a moment. “What can I say? I like to remain pretty.” He shrugged, his thumb stroking over the top of her hand. “Though I might as well just let myself go. Now that I’m beside you, no one’s going to notice me anymore.”

  “I’ll notice you,” and the flirtatious tone was not there like she had intended. But then again, maybe she was past flirting. Instead, maybe here in front of her, she had what she needed.

  His smile dimmed, his eyes going heavy-lidded, and his fingers tightened around hers for an eternal second. “Then that’s everyone who matters.”

  Her apartment seemed smaller with Granite there, but in a way that was intimate rather than claustrophobic.

  The dinner had been wonderful, and everything that made their text and phone conversations work still remained as they watched each other over steak and lobster and champagne that was so bubbly, it tickled her nose. Only in person, a hunger and a wanting that had nothing to do with food built within them, and every moment it grew, until Granite called for the check a little louder than necessary and a little sooner than originally planned.

  Now they were here, and he looked good amongst her pictures and furniture and the items that made up her life, standing there in his slacks and shirt. His hands were in his pockets, but his gaze never left her. He was at ease, his body language neutral, waiting for her to direct what happened next.

  She cleared her throat, stepping back towards her bedroom. “Since we’ve talked so often while I was in bed, would you like to see what it looks like?”

  Those words broke whatever had been reigning him in, and where before he was careful neutrality, now his whole body projected sexual tension, his jaw locking for a moment before he spoke. “Yes. I want to see it very much.”

  Frost hadn’t been this nervous since before she lost her virginity. Maybe not even then, considering her first time was the very cliché back seat of the car of a football player deal. Nothing had ever felt this much before.

  Granite though, Granite seemed to either not feel it, or ignore it. Instead, he climbed on the bed fully clothed sans the shoes he took off when he entered her apartment. He sat with his back against the headboard, legs crossed at the ankles. “Nice bed. Memory foam?”

  A giggle escaped, and the nerves eased slightly. “You like my bed.”

  “Hell of a lot nicer than mine. I might have to keep coming over to borrow it. My sleep is very important to me.”

  “Says the dragon who stays up to keep an eye on international futures.”

  He nodded decisively. “Exactly. This means when I sleep, it needs to be quality.”

  She had the most ridiculous male she had ever met in her bed, and it hit her, that moment, she didn’t want him anywhere else. Certainly not tonight. Maybe not ever.

  She began to unbutton her shirt, pulling it from the waist of her skirt. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought we might be doing other things in bed, but I don’t want to interrupt your very important sleep schedule.”

  The shirt fell to the floor, followed by the skirt, and now all she was left in was a matching ice-blue bra and panty set. A feminine thrill zipped through her when Granite looked like someone had come up behind him and whacked him with a 2x4. “You remember what I said about spoiling you?” he asked, his voice thick as his eyes stayed glued to her.

  “Yes?”

  “I want to state for the record that if you bankrupt me by buying out lingerie stores…I have no problem with that.”

  “I’ll remember that detail.” She kneeled on the bed and slowly crawled up his body, their skin not touching until their bodies were aligned, after which she lowered herself so she was flush against him, her head slightly under his so she had to look up to meet his eyes. “What about shoes?”

  “High heels? Because that’s a yes.” His body was tense beneath her, breathing starting to get a little rapid, and the noticeable bump at his crotch signaled his interest. But he kept his hands at the side, and he didn’t move a muscle.

  “How about you spoil me by giving me some kisses? I’ve been masturbating to the thought of what you’d taste like, and I’d really to know.”

  His eyes closed and a low groan broke from him at the words. His arms jerked, like he was going to hold her before he stopped himself. And then his head lowered, and his mouth was on hers.

  His kisses were warm breath and soft touches and the taste of Granite, something hot and fiery and male. Kissing had never been this before, though whether it was because he was a dragon, she was a wolf, or some other factor that was only them, Frost couldn’t tell. All she knew was she wanted more of it.

  Her tongue came out to touch his lips, and a hiss escaped him before he opened his mouth to her. She was in charge, her tongue wrapping around his in languid caresses, and where she led, he followed.

  She broke the kiss off, and Granite took the opportunity to pepper kisses along her jaw, up her cheek and over her forehead. If his lips could reach it, he marked it, until she was sure not an inch of skin had escaped his gentle ministrations. Only then did he go back to her mouth, pressing those small kisses against it until she opened her mouth once again to him, deepening the kiss.

  Frost was
clinging to his neck, pressing harder against him. This feeling was everything she’d been chasing, everything she hoped for in her life. This feeling was why she always doubted herself in the past when she tried to convince herself she was in love with someone – because this feeling was absent. She tried to tell herself she was a fool, that no one really could feel this way about someone else, this deep-seated need for someone, that you would live or die for them, that they were more vital than oxygen, that you’d give your soul to be near them.

  Yet here it was, with a dragon who somehow knew her better than she knew herself, who walked with her step-by-step during a healing she hadn’t even recognized was happening.

  It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t over. But it was good enough. It was in progress, and much of that was due to this amazing, ridiculous, loving male under her.

  She broke off the kiss. They were both breathing heavily, and Granite was watching her with those fathomless eyes of his. She reached up to trace over his eyebrow, loving the thick arch of it. Texting had been wonderful, but she was so grateful now he was hers in the flesh, to touch and to hold. “I’d go through it again, as long as you are always on the other side of it.”

  Granite stilled, the breath catching in his chest as his eyes darted over her face, connecting dots she couldn’t perceive. His hands were clenching at his sides, the muscles of his arms bunching, and he asked, voice breaking, “Can I hold you?”

  “Please.”

  He clung to her, and she to him, their bodies molding to each other as if to affirm their desire to become one.

  Chapter Eight

  It had been weeks of learning one another.

  Through Granite, she knew more about the supernatural world she now existed in. She’d go to Bella, make allies with Steel’s pack someday, but she wasn’t quite ready for that.