Muir, Siobhan - Not a Dragon's Standard Virgin (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Siobhan Muir

  Jonarrion rode the waves of her release, drinking down her honeyed nectar as she ground her pussy against his face. He couldn’t get enough of her. He suckled and licked, reveling in the tremors of ecstasy shuddering through her. He slowed his hand motions as her pussy released his fingers from its viselike grip and gently slid her legs off his shoulders.

  He crawled onto the bed beside her as she shook with the remnants of her ecstasy and licked her honey from his fingers. Her expression remained satiated as she regained her breath, her eyes slitted and glazed.

  Satisfaction of a job well done ricocheted inside him as he licked his lips to consume all her cream. He’d never found a better feeling than pleasuring a woman, and pleasuring Isabelle topped all the rest.

  “How do you feel, Belle?” He trailed his fingers over her shoulder and down her chest to circle one breast.

  She shook her head and gave him a lazy smile. “I don’t have the words. Bloody good doesn’t seem to cover it.”

  Jonarrion laughed and filled his hand with one of her sweet mounds, rolling the nipple against his palm. It slowly tightened into a hard little peak as the new sensation hit her. He watched the arousal surge again and couldn’t stop himself from rubbing his cock against her silken thigh.

  Isabelle tilted her head and reached a hand down to his rigid shaft, sliding her fingers along its length. Tingling pleasure arched from his balls all the way up his spine and stole his breath. His hips dragged the head against her palm without his conscious thought, and his balls tightened in empathy.

  “So this is what you hid beneath your plaid.” Her voice sounded admiring, and his mind filled with the delightful image of this woman wrapped in the colors of his tartan.

  And nothing else.

  A desperate yearning filled his chest, and he fisted his hands at his sides before he rolled over her and shoved his cock into her welcoming heat. He gritted his teeth and wondered where the desire came from.

  “Are you quite large?” She swiveled her hand under his length and weighed the head in her palm. A bead of pre-cum wept from the little slit.

  He chuckled through the sweet agony. “Larger than average, I should think, but not so much that I’m considered disfigured.”

  In truth, his length reached little more than the distance between his wrist and the end of his middle finger. Not all women could take his length. He prayed to the Goddess to make Isabelle deep enough.

  “Your cock is so smooth and warm.” Curiosity filtered into her expression, and she squeezed him as she slid her hand upward toward the head. A sensation like velvet surrounded his cock, and he moaned, thrusting his hips.

  A smile quirked her lips. “You like that, do you?”

  “As much as you like this.” He snaked his fingers through her damp curls to massage her clit, and she tightened her grip on his cock as she moaned wantonly, losing her smile.

  “Oh, aye, I see what you mean.”

  He chuckled and pulled his hand back, allowing her to explore him more without distraction. Isabelle grew a little bolder as she grasped him, rubbing her index finger around the edges of the head and into the soft spot beneath it. When her fingers skimmed the skin and hairs on his balls, he growled and rolled on top of her, teasing her pussy lips with the head.

  “Are you ready for more, Isabelle?” Jonarrion nipped at her shoulder, soothing the little bites with his tongue.

  “More?” She stared up at him with her bewitching blue-green eyes.

  “Aye, more.” He dipped his head and sealed his mouth around her nipple while stroking the tip of his cock against her nether lips.

  “Sweet mercy, yes, Jon!”

  Hellwinds, she’s magnificent. He pushed just inside her labia as he dragged his teeth across her rigid peak, and Isabelle gasped like she couldn’t get enough air, clutching his shoulders with tense fingers. Jonarrion’s growl vibrated through her breast, and her lustful musk filled his nostrils. His canines punched through his gums with his arousal.

  He moved from the first nipple to the other then, but his hand continued to caress the one he’d tasted. She moaned, arched her back, and thrust her hips at him. She tasted like the salty sweetness of roasted yams at harvest time, and her woman’s honey held a hint of wild summer storms along the coast. His cock swelled to even harder proportions, and, with a throaty snarl, he pushed the head of his shaft into her tight sheath.

  “Oh, sweet Goddess of all!” Isabelle grasped the bedsheets in her fists and trembled.

  “Aye.” He groaned at the velvet grip of her pussy. Exquisite ecstasy grasped his cock all the way to his balls, and he fought the urge to slam into her. Hold on, hold on, hold on.

  Jonarrion gritted his teeth to go slowly, but her warm muscles sucked him in, promising pleasures the likes of which he’d never known. Intellectually, he knew all pussies promised that, but for the first time in his life, he suspected this pussy, and this woman, may be the only one he’d ache for all the days afterward. But I’m a dragon. A frisson of surprise slammed into him with the protest. But his body no longer had the patience to wait for his mind.

  “Belle, look at me,” he ordered, and her green-blue gaze hit him like a thrown rock. “I hear there is a little pain, but I promise not to hurt you a’purpose.”

  He pushed his cock into her a little more and pressed against her maidenhood. Then he forced himself to stop, despite the overwhelming desire to shove right through it.

  “You haven’t hurt me yet, Jon.” She arched her hips, and her inner muscles rippled over his cock, making his eyes roll back in his head. “I trust you.”

  “Oh, Goddess above, you’re so sweet, my Belle.” He pulled himself out of her, only to push back in slowly. “I’ll try to give you as much pleasure as I can.”

  “You already have, Jon.” She moaned as he pulled back out.

  “Then forgive me this once.” He thrust in hard against her maidenhood, breaking through the veil of innocence.

  Isabelle wailed and tensed in pain, and chagrin flickered beneath the onslaught of sweet homecoming. He forced himself to hold still, seated to the balls in her clenching quim, and tried to ignore the screaming urge to pound into her. He held onto his control and waited what seemed like an eternity. Must not hurt her. Must wait.

  “Are you well?” he asked after a few moments of breathing hard.

  “Aye, I think so.” But her eyes remained tightly closed, her teeth buried in her lip.

  “Good,” he said and rocked in an easy rhythm.

  “Nay, wait—” He kept going, knowing if she gave into the pain now, she’d never enjoy coupling again.

  “Shhhh, shhh.” He soothed her and rode her a little faster. “Let me love you a little more, Belle.”

  “Oh, dear Goddess.” She moaned as her body rocked with him, matching him timidly at first then more and more forcefully as her passion built. “Jon, you feel so good inside me.”

  He slowly increased the speed of his thrusts, licking her throat and nuzzling the skin beneath her ear.

  “Put your heels behind my thighs, Belle.”

  She moaned and locked her legs around his as he pumped his cock into her. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as her passion built. Little tremors rippled through her weeping sheath, and his own release threatened to overwhelm him before she’d reached hers.

  He wormed a hand between their bodies and flicked his thumb over her straining clit. “Come for me, Belle. Come now.”

  Isabelle let go with a cry, tensing, and clamped down on his shaft like a vise. Jonarrion released his passion, fucking her without restraint. Her moans and her tight sheath electrified him, hardening his cock to stone as he shuttled in and out of her. At last, his release slammed into him, and he surrendered, roaring out his ecstasy along as they cascaded into orgasm together.

  Jonarrion bent his head over her as he pumped a few more times, opening his mouth and locking his teeth on the muscle in her shoulder beside her neck. His urge to bite, sinking his fangs into her, burned th
rough his mind as his seed shot into her womb. The dragon in him wanted to mate, right here and right now with this woman, but he pulled his urges back from the brink with a reminder of their species difference. He couldn’t mate with her.

  Jonarrion collapsed, but rolled just enough to the side to keep from crushing Isabelle. He spooned against her side, gathering her into his arms. Each tremor of orgasm rippled against his body, and he reveled in the power of her pleasure. By the Goddess, she’s the perfect lover.

  Her responsiveness and evident enjoyment had bewitched him. He wanted to love her more and more, never having enough. He wanted to watch her smile and laugh as they spent more time together. He wanted to be with his True Bonded Mate.

  True Bonded Mate? Isabelle? Dismayed surprise doused some of his contentment. How could that be? I’m a dragon.

  His lifespan alone would destroy all hope of being together. He’d live much longer than she, and after her death, he’d be bereft and frustrated. If he never wanted to fuck another woman after Isabelle, how would he make it through his long life? Become a monk?

  It can’t be true. But his gut insisted otherwise. He’d only made love to her because she asked him to save her from the demon. I didn’t intend to want more of her than this. He didn’t understand why he wanted to bite her as True Mates would. Goddess, help me.

  Panic constricted his chest, and his breath left his lungs as Isabelle cuddled up to him. A gentle breeze ruffled the flame of the lantern and caressed his cheek like the loving hand of a mother. It also brought to his nose the scents of their bodies and of their satisfaction. Something in Isabelle’s scent had changed. The wild, earthy scent of the spring forest was more pronounced and mingled with the spicy scent of dragon, as if the two entwined like festive holiday candles he’d seen at the solstice fairs. A new scent of a loch in the sunshine, an old and timeless scent that had always been and would always be, wove through the others, creating a steady backdrop.

  “Thank you, Jon,” Isabelle whispered, bringing him back to reality.

  Jonarrion pushed himself up to look down at her.

  Her eyes had changed color from green-blue to aquamarine, like the finest beryls in his horde. Threads of dark teal wove through the aquamarine, creating a latticework around her pupils. The power and age of those eyes silenced him. He felt like a child at the feet of an ancient being, as if he stared at the Goddess Herself.

  “You’re more than welcome, Isabelle.” He offered her a tremulous smile, suddenly excited and giddy and wanting more of her. “I was more than happy to help you. And will again, should you require it.”

  The smile she gave him was bittersweet. “You’re very kind, Master Swift.”

  “Please, you must call me Jon. We have known each other far too intimately for such formalities.”

  “I can’t call you Jon, Master Swift.” She sighed with regret. “No one must know what we have done, and I must pretend it wasn’t with you that I have done it. I must always call you Master Swift.”

  Someday she will call me Jonarrion Swiftwind, a certain voice piped up in the back of his mind, but he ruthlessly silenced it with the sorrow of her rejection.

  “Forgive me, I wasn’t thinking, mistress.” He kissed her bare shoulder to hide his chagrin. “You’re right, and I shall endeavor to remember it.” Then he made himself get off the bed and search for a cloth to clean her of his release.

  When he found one and returned to gently wipe the cum from her glistening pussy, she groaned in dismay and tensed. “What?” He froze. “Was I not gentle enough?”

  “Nay.” She groaned and leaned back. “Nay, but I forgot about children. ’Twould be awkward should I conceive from just one night with you.”

  “Ahhh. Fear not, mistress. I cannot get you with child.”

  “You can’t?” She frowned. “You didn’t seem to fail in, well, your stiffness.”

  He laughed gently. “Nay, I’m not impotent. I’m sterile. I cannot get a child on any woman, though I don’t mind the trying. You’ll not have to worry about having my get.”

  He didn’t add his kind didn’t sexually mature until they reached one thousand years of age, and that was still a long way off for him. Much longer than she’d survive. The thought still made him mourn.

  “Oh.” To his surprise, she sounded disappointed, and he looked at her sharply, but she’d turned her head toward her clothes on the floor. “I should probably get myself dressed. They’ll be missin’ me down below soon.”

  She rolled to her feet and grabbed her chemise to pull it over her head. Then she grabbed her skirt and tied it tightly to her hips, her face set and full of emotion, but he couldn’t read the clues on her features.

  “Isabelle.” Jonarrion closed the distance between them, unheeding of his nakedness.

  She looked up at him with those amazing eyes and paused as she grasped her corset.

  “You’re a fine woman, beautiful in all ways, and worth more than a quick tumble.” He touched her face with his fingers, trying to convey his earnestness. “Would you let me, I’d show you all that can be shared between a man and a woman, gladly, and whenever you asked me. I’ve met none such as you my whole life, and I am grateful you chose me to help you with this.”

  “’Tis very nice of you to say, Master Swift.”

  “Jon,” he insisted.

  “Very well, Jon. But what’s done is done. You can’t wish for more because…”

  “Because?” he prompted, making sure she met his eyes.

  “Well, because ’tis just your lust speaking.” A grimace pulled her lips down. “You just had a willing wench, and you wish more o’ that, not more o’ me.” She fitted the corset to her torso and tightened the laces. “No one wants the ‘Yowling Cat’ of Lochmore Cott.”

  He growled, grabbed her, and pushed her up against the wall so suddenly she yelped in surprise and froze.

  “Never say that again!” Fury roughened his voice. “No one calls my—” He stopped himself out of surprise and the fear she’d bolt. “No one will call you so again, and you will not entertain such thoughts. You’re not a ‘yowling cat.’”

  “Nay,” she said carefully, “now I’m a whore.”

  Jonarrion growled again. “You’re not a whore. You gave yourself to a man to survive. There’s no dishonor in that, and you won’t be with child from it. Any man can see that if he thinks beyond his cock. You’ll be able to marry—”

  “I won’t!” She shoved him off of her so hard he took a step back. “No one will want a ruined woman such as me.” She inhaled slowly, and her hands fisted on her laces. “But it is well enough. I chose this path, and I’ll walk it. Thank you again, Master Swift. You have given me pleasure and saved me from the dragon. I can’t thank you enough for both those things.”

  “Belle.” She jerked her laces tight and tied them. “Let me make an honest woman of you, then. Let me ask your father for your hand. Before you tell him you’re ruined. Please, Belle, be my wife for all time.”

  Isabelle looked at him for a few moments, her eyes full of cautious hope and wary distrust.

  “Why would you want to do so?” She wrapped her arms around her waist. “Is it just because you took my virginity that you wish for this? You haven’t kenned me more than two fingers of days. Why would you wish to marry me? I didn’t ask you to take my innocence to make you marry me. I thought I made that clear.”

  “I’m not asking you to be my wife just because I took your maidenhead.” He gritted his teeth against his own anger and frustration at her rejection. “It’s you I want. You I need in my life when the nights turn dark and cold and lonely.”

  “And how do you ken that, Master Swift?”

  What could he tell her? That he was a dragon, and the Goddess had granted dragons the knowledge of their True Mates by their need to bite their partners during mating? That he’d never be satisfied with any other female for the whole of his long life? That he’d only see beauty in her body and smile from now on? He stood there, star
ing at her in mute frustration, and she snorted as she shook her head.

  “You don’t ken, do you? You can’t tell me I’m the one you need just because you’ve had my body. Nay.” She shook her head and made a negating motion with her hand. “You have done enough, and I’m grateful.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss him lightly on the lips. “You need do no more.”

  Isabelle’s bittersweet smile scored his heart as she moved to the door and unlocked it. Then she gave him one last sweet look before she stepped out into the corridor and shut the door behind her.

  Jonarrion’s world lost its color with her retreat, and the sorrow stabbed him in the heart. The pain burned as badly as when he found out his sister-by-law and her unborn child had been murdered. His True Bonded Mate, the one female he was meant to be with, thought he just wanted to “do his duty” to her because of her offering.

  “Dear Goddess!” Jonarrion staggered to his knees.

  He had to go after her, to convince her he wanted more than just a tumble now and then. He had to tell her everything. He jerked to his feet and began to dress again, but his sensitive ears caught the sounds of the revelry below, and he realized he couldn’t endanger her. Someone, several someones, would see them, and all her careful efforts would be wasted.

  Jonarrion gritted his teeth in frustration, and a growl seeped out of his chest. He’d have to wait until the crowd dispersed. Isabelle didn’t understand he wanted her for her, not for duty or the gift of her virginity. Virgins were easy to have. Females meant to be with a certain dragon? Few and far between. Thousands of years between. Undressing once more, he lay back on his bed and closed his eyes, trying to court sleep. Between the noise from down below and the memories of Isabelle’s kiss, it became damn near impossible.

  Chapter Seven

  Isabelle dragged herself from her bed the next morning, feeling stiff and sore in places she never thought could be stiff or sore. Still, she didn’t regret one moment of her time with Jon. Master Swift, she corrected herself, though she’d always think of him as Jon. Leaving him last night had been the hardest thing she’d ever done, especially when he’d asked for her hand in marriage. She’d wanted to believe he wanted her for her, but considering what they’d just done, she suspected his interest lay in his duty to her. He took her virginity therefore he should marry her. She’d almost capitulated to his request. His offer had been so tempting, but the harsh reality of the world had crashed in upon her when she’d heard the revelry downstairs. It wasn’t meant to be.