“And here I thought he’d realized that he couldn’t take us on,” said Graeme. “Well, so much for my cockiness.”
“No,” said Merriman. “It wasn’t, unfortunately, that we had defeated him so tidily. My suspicion is that he realized that the fight was already over.”
“Well, there goes my newfound confidence too,” laughed Lily. “I don’t understand any of this. And here I thought we’d stuck it to that damned bird.”
“Oh, something tells me that you’ll have more opportunities, Lilliana. In the meantime I intend to secure the house once more, and this time with a stronger spell. They won’t be back for some time, but you three need to move on as soon as Mr. Dunbar here is well enough. But in the meantime we will need to hide you better. You must stay put until I tell you otherwise, you three: is that understood?”
“Understood,” said Lily. “But why?”
“The spell I will be using is something like what your power permits you to do, Lilliana—you move through time and space. Only I will be thrusting the house and the entire property into another time, so that you will live, for a while, in a sort of bubble. To those who were here last night it will appear vacant, since you will exist inside it only in the future. I will release the spell when you’re ready to move on. In the meantime, expect the onset of some rather cold weather. Winter, as they say, is nearing.”
“You mentioned that this spell would take a lot of your strength…” Lily’s concern strained her voice. Her protective instinct extended to Merriman as well as to her mates.
“I can afford it,” he said, grinning. “As long as we don’t find ourselves in battle again. So do your best to avoid mischief, if you would.”
“So will you be able to come and go, to leave the house?”
“Yes, as will the doctor and Mrs. Fitzpatrick. They will be the only ones who have easy access. But as I said, you three must stay put on the property to remain safe.”
“Understood,” said Lily.
“For now,” added Merriman, “I wish to take our guests downstairs for some tea and biscuits. This night has been hard on my old bones.”
“We’ll join ye, then,” said Mrs. Fitzpatrick, who’d remained politely seated, gun in hand, the entire time. “Can I fix ye a spot of tea, Dr. Evans?”
“That would be lovely,” said the doctor, getting her meaning. It seemed that the three young people were to be left alone for a time. He turned to them before leaving the room. “You’ll find that Conor here is…quite well. He has now completed the change, which means that his body is back to normal. Well, a new sort of normal. Fully functional, as it were.” With that, he shut the door behind him.
Lily, Graeme and Conor looked at one another for a moment and then burst into simultaneous laughter.
“Well, that wasn’t too awkward,” said Conor. “Maybe he should have simply said, ‘Might I suggest that you three have a good hard fuck, now that the invalid can walk again?’”
“The doctor is nothing if not discreet,” said Lily. “And I appreciate that. I don’t need him going home to my Nana to tell her about my sexy times.”
“Fair enough. At least he made a weak attempt at being cryptic.”
“Well,” said Graeme. “It’s been a long night and I need another shower. Take that as you will.”
11
Each of the three washed up individually this time; first Conor, then Lily. Graeme went last, and as he showered, Lily towelled her hair off in the bedroom as Conor sat on the bed and watched.
Above the dresser was a large mirror in which she could observe his features; his smiling face with its trademark dimples and sly eyes, a look of joy assembled in a collage of perfect traits.
“What are you looking at?” she asked, a coy tint to the voice which was finally settling into the notion that he was truly back, alive, healthy.
Conor always had ways of bringing her back to that first day in the classroom where his piercing gaze had all but done her in. Again, he observed her in silence, and again she found herself aching for his touch.
“I am looking at the one woman on the planet who seems to have been built expressly to please me. Whatever change has come over me in the last day or so, there isn’t a thing about you that I would change, Lilliana.”
Lily thought of her feelings of inadequacy as she’d walked the London streets and looked at all of those other women; the thin, perfectly made-up ones who seemed so confident in their appearance. She was now one of those women—minus the thinness, of course. Nothing could instill confidence in a female like the look on that man’s face. Nothing.
She turned to face Conor. Between her flesh and his were only a couple of borrowed bathrobes and a few feet of empty space.
“You have a talent for saying the right thing,” she said, smiling. “That hasn’t changed, whatever’s happened inside your body.”
Conor rose from the bed and approached her, his fingers immediately gravitating towards the belt tied loosely at her waist.
“I don’t always say the right thing,” he said. “But you seem to enjoy me nevertheless.”
“Don’t get me wrong—I’d enjoy you even if you never spoke again. But I would miss that lush voice of yours.”
Her lover’s bi-coloured eyes fixed on hers, his hands going to her cheeks. For a moment Lily thought that she was in for a passionate kiss. But instead it was a question that she received, deep inside her mind as he stared into her.
“How do you enjoy this voice?” it asked, his eyes looking deep into her own as if to decipher whether she’d received the transmission. He smiled again as she replied, her words coming clearly in spite of the tongue in her mouth remaining still.
“I love it. I love the intimacy of you inside my head—inside me. I love…”
His lips interrupted her this time, hungry for her own. He craved her as though she were oxygen to breathe, necessary, replenishing.
And Lily kissed him back, deeply, passionately, her own hunger punctuated by that fear of losing him, which only made his lips and tongue all the sweeter. Never would she take a kiss of his for granted. However long they lived, she would always remember that she had nearly lost him before their lives had really begun, and that any time they had together was a gift.
When they pulled apart she looked into his eyes again, taking in each fine variation in hue, each line leading to his pupils, every lash defining them.
“Tell me,” she said. “How does it work? This transmission of our voices? Can you read my thoughts now? You never could before…”
Conor smiled again. “Your thoughts now involve that bathrobe on the floor, you on the bed and me on you.”
She laughed. “That’s fairly easy to ascertain. You could guess pretty well a hundred percent of the time that I want you naked on top of, beside, under me or hanging from a swing, for that matter. But I mean, beyond that. Do you know everything that I’m thinking?”
“No. And I hope, for your sake, that you don’t get to the point where you can read the minds of a million people who surround you. I’d think that would be enough to drive a person insane. But it is a handy tool, to say the least, to use when you’re not certain of a person’s intentions.”
“Whether they’re a friend or enemy, you mean.”
“Yes. Though I’ve discovered that on occasion I’m wrong about it, even with my little talent. It isn’t a foolproof system, though if Merriman is right it will strengthen and develop.”
Lily thought about the previous night’s battle, the enemy all around and their scattered thoughts in her mind. Though they had been fighting against her side, they weren’t all evil, really. Many had been confused followers of someone with more power, more magnetism. Others had been cruel and malicious, of course, and wanted to be the ones to defeat the awful dragons. To them, she was the bad one. That was how war seemed to work in the end.
“I suppose I’ll try and curb it,” she said. “I don’t want to pry into the minds of others any more than I have to. It frightens me.”
Conor’s hand lifted her chin and he kissed her forehead softly. “I never want my Lilliana frightened,” he said. “Not when I can protect you.”
His arms went around her and she held him in turn, enveloped in heat and affection, his fever replaced by the warmth of protectiveness.
“I would give my life for you, you know,” he said softly as he held her.
“I know,” she said. “But don’t.”
“All right.” He pulled back again, and again his fingers went to her belt. “I will give my life to you. How’s that?”
“Much better.”
He slid a finger down her front, beginning its mission at the base of her throat. As her robe came open to allow it through, Lily watched his face; that delighted expression of discovery, as though she were wholly new to him once again.
Between her round breasts his fingertip proceeded as his eyes toured her skin, watching her newly exposed nipples firm under the cold of the air, anticipating his caress. Her scent was heaven: heady, ripe with need.
“Your body tells me what it wants,” he said quietly. “Your pretty pink nipples say, ‘Suck me, Conor.’ And so I must obey. This life is a brutal one, and your perfect breast a cruel mistress. But I’m nothing if not submissive.”
He bent forwards, his lips ever so gently locking themselves around her left nipple as his hands cupped the breast that nourished his need. Lily thrust her head back as her pulse increased, blood flowing to the bud that he stroked with the tip of his tongue, and to the swelling mound between her legs. Again, she was ready. Filled with need, with hope.
Conor stood erect again, his finger back to its task of gliding down her front. Now it was on her belly, navigating around her navel and continuing on its way towards the soft, inviting slickness between her legs.
“And here is an entirely different message,” he said as he teased the trimmed strip of hair leading to the place that he considered heaven. “Here we have a scent…” With his index and middle fingers he stroked her on either side of her moist lips, as he leaned towards her. “We have wetness that begs for a touch from a curious finger.” With that, he eased one into her and extracted it slowly, so that she could feel each inch as it slid out from between her swollen lips. He brought it to his mouth, its tip glistening with her desire.
“Wetness which tastes better than anything in this world,” he said as he licked the fingertip clean.
“And what does your body tell me?” Lily pondered, pulling at the robe Conor was wearing now, whose tented front had moved closer to her as he explored her body. She reached inside, her hand groping for what she knew would be a very hard, thick cock, offering itself as a gift, saying “Feel how hard I am for you. How much I want inside you.”
Her fingers met the round head first and she palmed it, massaging the swollen, delicate flesh for a moment as he closed his beautiful eyes.
“And here,” she whispered, “is your own wetness,” as a finger slid over the swollen tip, taking with it the drizzle of clear liquid that eased out to let her know that he too was ready, in case the impossibly thick shaft wasn’t enough of a hint.
“I think you need to be eaten,” she growled, leaning in to speak into his ear. “Your cock wants my mouth, my tongue. It’s asking me, begging me.”
And she was on her knees then, lips brushing the tip, collecting the wetness on its surface. She looked up at his face, which was observing her keenly, and licked his juice off her lips before stroking his narrow slit with the tip of her tongue.
“That is too good,” he said. “You’d better be careful…”
“Or at the very least, you’d better tend your other lover as well.” From the doorway came Graeme’s voice.
12
He stood leaning on the doorframe, his own robe wide open to display the perfectly sculpted work of art between his legs. Lily grinned at the sight, her mouth salivating for the two of them.
Graeme approached, shutting the door behind him, and thrust his pelvis towards her even as Lily went back to sucking on Conor’s sweet length. As she paid him attention, she reached out without skipping a beat and teased Graeme’s tightening balls. Then she slid her fingers along the underside of his shaft as he let out a moan of approval, running his fingers through her long, damp hair. His length pulsed under her touch, blood rushing to fill the already engorged head.
A moment later, she was licking him as she’d done Conor, her tongue coating him in agonizing strokes, lips sucking ever so lightly on his throbbing, round tip as Graeme reached for her robe, tearing it away from her shoulders and letting it drop away from her white form so that it draped itself over her forearms.
“This isn’t right,” he said after a moment, painfully attempting to pull himself away. “You are our queen, whether in name or otherwise, and it is to us to pleasure you.”
“And just how do you propose that?” asked Lily as the two men gently pulled her to her feet, already seeking to answer her question.
They led her to the bed, which was coated in fresh sheets, and lifted her—these men were so very good at doing that. She felt herself being laid down upon the mattress, a hand on each thigh, prying them apart aggressively to reveal what lay between.
“Look at that,” moaned Conor as he stared the glistening petals of her sex. “Perfection, and all for us. We are the most fortunate men alive.”
“I can’t argue with that,” said Graeme. “But even if I could, I’d wait until after I did this.” He leaned over Lily, his turquoise eyes flashing with mischief. “You are the most delectable meal,” he said before disappearing.
She put her head back again and surrendered to the sensation of lips landing sweet, soft kisses on her clitoris, which had swollen to meet the touch of whichever man wanted to render her insane. Fingers, tongue, lips, cock or anything else they wanted to employ to stimulate her would be a fine choice.
One man’s teeth were on her thigh, biting playfully, while the other lashed at her, tongue softly and rapidly lapping at her juices. The occasional hint of stubble running over her flesh as though to remind her how sensitive her skin became in their presence.
“This exquisite body…” said Graeme, addressing Conor, “is in need of a cock or two, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” said Conor, “But I would very much like to thrust my sword into her sheath only after it’s been tightened by a sweet orgasm.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” With that, Graeme licked her again as Lily felt her pussy tighten in anticipation.
She let out a soft laugh then. Another form of male bonding, this, and one she approved of far more than the barbarism of beer and football.
“But let me try something,” said Graeme, pulling back. “They say that the Ritual enhances one’s gifts and skills—I wonder about mine.”
With that, he aimed the fingers of his left hand towards a few small items on the dresser. It seemed to Lily that a crystal carafe was the object of his attentions. Its lid, which was spherical glass with a narrow sort of stopper, began to float in the air above the empty container, drifting towards them.
“Interesting,” said Conor, his dimples prominent. “Very interesting.”
The round end turned towards Lily, who watched with curiosity and excitement. Was this a new sort of sex toy? She hardly needed one, what with the two majestic beasts who stood before her.
Graeme guided the slow projectile towards her swollen mound and slid it over her slick pink opening, stroking gently at the shallow crevices which surrounded her sensitive bud. The glass was cool, and Lily squirmed under its touch as the men watched, their own hands hardly able to resist stroking her or themselves.
“Oh…God…” she moaned as the orb made contact, coming away almost immediately before resuming its task, its smooth surface gliding over her throbbing clit.
“Yes, it seems that I have indeed gained some control over this particular power,” smiled Graeme. “I must say that I’m enjoying it. But…” With that, he shot th
e glass back towards the dresser, allowing it to land softly in its original position. “I would sooner it be my flesh on hers.”
With his index and middle fingers he rubbed the shining pink bud that the orb had stroked a moment earlier, as his other hand reached under and lifted her hips towards him. His cock, hard as stone, toyed with her slit as his fingertips played her like delicate strings, pulling all of her nerves to the surface as she bucked underneath him.
Conor circled around and leaned over her, fingertips sculpting her nipples as she writhed in pleasure under the sensitive touch of the two men. His hard length was within reach now, and she took it in hand, marvelling again at his thickness, as large around as her own wrist.
“I want you,” she moaned, her pussy pulsing gently at the thought of being split apart by the beautiful toy.
“I know,” he said softly. “But first I want you to come for us, my Lilliana.”
The last words of Conor’s were spoken only inside her mind, as Graeme watched over her, his fingers accelerating and decelerating according to her movements.
Her back arched as she thrust herself towards him, demanding more. And so he gave it, fingers moving faster now, dipping inside her to coat themselves in her juices and slipping once again over her clit, easing in small spirals as he watched her muscles contract, her swollen pussy aching for a cock.
And Conor’s lips were on her nipples now, sucking, licking, squeezing, neglecting neither as Graeme finally extended the tip of his tongue to lash greedily at her exposed bud. He hit her in delicate strokes, coming away as quickly as he’d touched her, staccato pulses of sensation coursing through her body as her entire frame convulsed under the men’s strong hands.
“Oh, sweet lord…” she moaned as Graeme came at her again, his mouth framing her swollen flesh, tongue sweeping over her juicy lips. He rammed three fingers into her, driving them deep inside as her muscles convulsed around them, trapping them within her walls. The tightness made his cock twitch between his legs, as though inquiring when its turn would come. He, too, was aching. The agony of anticipation.
Dragon Flight: A Dragon Shifter Menage Serial (Seeking Her Mates Book 3) Page 6
