by Delia Castel
“What a delightful display.” His voice was more of a growl, and she wondered how he could stay so gentlemanly with his nostrils flared, sweat on his brow, and his eyes hungry.
He made quick work of unbuttoning his red waistcoat, revealing the most tantalizing glimpse of defined pectoral and abdominal muscles with a good dusting of hair. Then, after untying his white cravat, he pulled the fabric off his neck, letting it and the collar it held in place fall to the floor. Marigold’s tongue darted out to wet her parched lips. Her hands itched to touch that hard flesh.
When he reached for the waistband of his knee-length breeches, she stepped forward. “I want to uncover the rest.”
One side of his lips lifted into a half-smirk. “Only if you let me uncover you first.”
Polaris didn’t wait for her to reply. He stepped forward, unbuttoned the placket of her breeches, and pulled them down over her hips. His nostrils flared, and he sniffed loudly. He growled. “You smell divine!”
The pulse between Marigold’s legs thudded, and she stepped out of the fabric. Her gaze dropped to Polaris’ muscular chest, which rose and fell with every breath. She let her fingers graze the hard planes of his torso, marveling at the differences between Polaris and Berrin. Polaris’ skin was tougher, his body hair darker and more abundant, and his muscles thicker and more defined. Running her fingers over the hard, pulsing member straining against his breeches, she clenched her teeth, not wanting to squeal with want. With hands that shook with impatience, she undid the buttons of his placket.
The bulbous, red head of his penis jutted out from the gap in his breeches. A bead of clear precum oozed out of his slit. Marigold’s mouth watered, and her core throbbed and ached with the need to be plundered. She reached down to touch the organ.
“No.” He snatched her wrist. “If I am to come apart, it will be inside your glorious body, not at your hand. But first, I will taste you.”
Polaris knelt and hoisted one of her legs over his shoulder. Marigold sucked in a breath, grabbing the side of his head for balance. When he pressed the pads of his fingers into the flesh of her thighs and spread her open, the muscles of her core tensed in preparation for his tongue.
“You are so beautifully wet for me,” he murmured.
Marigold bit down on her bottom lip, not knowing the correct response to such an observation. His eyes fixed on her clit protruding from her folds. Gulping, she canted her hips, silently urging him to start.
With one deft movement, he swiped his tongue down from her nub to her opening and back up again. Marigold shrieked. That had felt decidedly odd.
He grinned. “I altered the surface of my tongue. Do you like it?”
“W-was that a dragon tongue?”
“Our tongues are smooth in our dragon forms. However, I applied the same principles used for forming neck ridges.” He raised his brows. “I can make them appear on any part of my body.”
Whimpering, Marigold imagined a penis with gentle bumps, stretching her apart and pleasuring places of her body that had never been touched. She closed her eyes, focussing on the texture of the tongue lapping at her sex. It felt soft and wet and smooth, but it was the friction of countless pliant, raised bumps that sent thrills of pleasure darting out from each swipe of that organ.
“You taste as good as you look!” his words were muffled, as he had buried his head between her legs, circling her nub with that talented tongue.
Marigold’s legs trembled. She clenched and jerked with the intensity of the sensations, but he held her in place, teasing her sensitive bundle of nerves until all she could do was moan and shudder.
The next few flicks of his roughened tongue caused all the muscles around her pelvis to tighten, and her stomach fluttered. A tingling heat spiraled out from behind her clit, building in magnitude until it swirled around her core, her belly and the tops of her thighs. Clenching Polaris’ hair, she panted. She’d never felt anything like this before, and she wondered if the sensations were due to his being an experienced dragon.
“Come for me,” he mumbled into her.
The heat, which was now an inferno of sensation, exploded, leaving her a shuddering, convulsing mess. Harsh spasms rocked her body, and she cried out. When her climax cooled, she slumped on Polaris, her muscles limp. In seconds, he lifted her off her feet, wrapping her legs around his waist, and walked toward the edge of the ballroom.
Her back landed gently on the cool plaster of the wall, making her catch her breath. His hands squeezed her buttocks, and her stomach quivered. Was he going to take her standing up? “Polaris!”
“Any objections?” he pushed her up, positioning the tip of his penis at her sensitive, slick opening.
“N-none!”
His arms, which had been holding up her thighs, relaxed a fraction, and he slid into her, stretching her wide. It was like being impaled by a conduit of pleasurable heat, and she pulsed and spasmed around his girth. She could feel his every ridge, every corded vein of the penis gliding deeper. When he had sheathed himself fully, he adjusted his grip, hooking the back of her knees over his elbows. She cried out, never having been penetrated so deeply.
He panted into her ear. “You are wonderfully tight. A perfect fit, wouldn’t you say?”
Whimpering, Marigold bit down hard on her bottom lip and held onto his shoulders for dear life.
His movements were slow, and the crease in his brow made him look like he was trying to work out a puzzle. She was about to ask him why he wasn’t pounding into her, when his erection grazed a spot that made her jolt. An intense pleasure shot from her core and straight to her nub, making it throb. It rushed up her torso, hitting her vocal cords, and ripping a low moan from her lips.
He chuckled into her ear. “That’s where it is.”
“W-what did you just do?”
“I’ve found your pleasure spot.” He thrusted against it again and again, making her cry out.
Marigold didn’t know how long he held her against the wall, pounding into her without mercy or restraint. It was a haze where everything disappeared, and all awareness concentrated on the beautiful, thick length taking her to levels of sensation she would never have believed humanly possible. Polaris growled low against her neck, nipping and sucking on her skin, as though he wanted to mark her as his.
He quickened his movements, and her pleasure grew, picking up speed like an avalanche. Polaris’ thrusts continued, hitting the same spot over and over with relentless precision. Every nerve ending in her pelvis sparked with ecstasy, threatening to tear her apart and turn her into molten flesh. She sobbed into his shoulder, clenching her fists against the onslaught. She was on fire, and his wonderful, magical organ was stoking the flames.
“Yes,” he hissed, not missing a single stroke. “I knew you would be a delicious little morsel, my beautiful she-dragon.”
He had melted her to a puddle of need, and she could only cry out in response.
Her pleasure continued to build, until it amassed in a pressure so suffocating, it ached. She jerked her hips, increasing the friction. Polaris positioned one leg over his shoulder, grinding his pubic bone against her nub. He groaned. “You are the most exquisite pleasure.”
Marigold would have said the same, but something deep within her splintered, and shards of white hot pleasure tore her apart. Her mouth opened with a silent scream. A series of deep, almost painful spasms rocked her core, transforming into rippling sensations that traveled to her every extremity. She collapsed on his shoulders, panting and spent.
A low, dangerous growl rumbled in Polaris’ throat, picking up in volume with his quickening thrusts. She murmured garbled words into his ear, not quite knowing what she was saying. With one ferocious growl, he filled her with liquid heat, jerking his hips in tighter thrusts before his growls turned into a moan of completion, and he stilled.
Polaris laughed. It was a harsh, bitter sound. “Marigold…” Still holding her in place against the wall, he pushed back her damp curls. His indigo eyes s
oftened, and a bittersweet smile curved his lips. “I thought that having you once would be enough, but I was mistaken.”
She pulsed around his still rock-hard shaft, and slurred, “I’m ready for another round if you are.”
This time, his laughter held a happier ring. “You are a delight! Let’s move proceedings to the sofa.”
She tightened her legs tighter around his hips and grinned. “I can’t decide which was more exhilarating. This or the dragon ride.”
He was about to reply when a loud knock shook the door within its frame. “Master Polaris,” said Nanny’s shrill voice. “Have you quite finished? A message has arrived for the young mistress.”
Polaris deflated, and he slid her off his organ. “One moment, please.”
Nanny huffed from behind the door. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past ten minutes. Now that I have it, I will not wait a moment longer!”
“Leave it at the door.”
There was no reply, so Marigold assumed that Nanny had complied with Polaris’ request. She buttoned her shirt and scrambled to the door. After checking that he had put on his breeches, she cracked the door open and picked up the scroll lying on the marble floor of the dim hallway.
A large, warm hand rested on her hip, accompanied by the rest of his body. “Who’s it from?”
“Hold on, I’ll check.” She rotated the scroll so that it was now seal-up. Behind her, Polaris stiffened. She turned. “What’s wrong?”
“That’s the seal of Uncle Hertz.”
Chapter 14
Matheson rushed through to the main wing of the house and stood on the other side of the door, head bowed. What in the name of Vulcan had he thought he’d been doing, spying on the girl as though he had a claim on her? It was madness. Perhaps the last vestiges of papaver and distilled wormwood still remained in his system, scrambling his judgment and senses. He ran a shaky hand through his curtain of red hair. Of course she would favor perfect Polaris or big-hearted Berrin. They were both full dragons, both healthy in mind and spirit whereas he… A sigh escaped his throat. He’d failed everyone. Not just by falling into addiction and despair, leaving Mother and Father to die alone. His actions threatened to alienate the one person who might save the family from ruin and might help him to thwart Uncle Hertz.
On feet that dragged like lead weights, he trudged towards Father’s study. He had a few more hours to spare before the ball. It was time to re-read Grandfather’s documents and prepare for his case. If he had the time, he would even draft a letter to Judge Embers, ready for later after he had received the King’s Blessing. If the judge wasn’t completely corrupt, he might open the courts and overturn the unfair ruling to make Uncle Hertz the beneficiary of the Auburn fortune.
He stepped into the study, inhaling the warm scent of leather. As if by magic, pain lanced through his palm and up the bones of his arm like a thorny vine, its barbs nestling into his marrow. How typical of this room to trigger the curse. Shaking his head, he ambled towards the large, mahogany desk.
“Time for your elixir.” Nanny strolled in with a vial.
Not wanting to start a conversation, Matheson held out his hand. When Nanny gave him the vial, he uncorked it, downed its bitter contents, and grimaced. Magic suffused his body like a hot, dry wind, blowing away the sharp edges of the pain. On lighter steps, he walked to the desk and sat, glaring at the Auburn flamberge. The accursed sword had been the cause of his every problem.
“I went looking for you in the ballroom, but you weren’t there.” She followed him around the desk and loomed over his seat. “You mustn’t wait so long between doses. The elixirs have a cumulative effect.”
“Then I am glad to have you to save me from self-destruction.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. Nanny meant well. She probably thought she would step into Mother’s shoes, but he had long outgrown the need for a parent.
She made a huff of disapproval, which Matheson made a point to ignore.
Berrin and Ella’s voices echoed from the direction of the servants’ staircase, presumably from having visited the griffins. The half-blood said something to Berrin, and he replied with a false laugh. Matheson’s heart twisted. He wondered if Berrin had understood what he had asked of Polaris and Marigold. While the brat was annoying and had an unrealistic, over-inflated sense of optimism, he was quick to anger and likely as powerful as Polaris. A deadly combination, and the reason why their society frowned upon dragons who stole bonded mates.
Matheson glanced up at Nanny. “Do we have anything in the kitchens to pass on to Ella as a gift for Festival Week?”
A look of surprise crossed her stern features, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “Certainly, Young Master.”
“Good.” He needed Ella out of the way before he could speak with Berrin.
While Nanny bustled out of the room to catch up with Ella, Matheson stood and headed towards the door. He watched her scurry down the hallway towards the pair headed back toward the ballroom. Matheson nodded to himself. Berrin was naive if he believed that Polaris and Marigold were just talking. Nanny took Ella down the servants’ staircase to the kitchen, and Berrin attempted to continue through to where he had left Marigold in Polaris’ hands.
He poked his head out into the hallway. “Berrin?” When his younger brother turned around, he added, “You may not want to go down there.”
Berrin tilted his head to the side. “Why?”
“Come inside.” Matheson walked to his desk. If Berrin wanted to ignore him, then he deserved to walk into find Polaris plundering Marigold’s luscious little body.
He glanced down at the scrolls on the desk, making sure to appear busy. Eventually, Berrin asked, “What’s this about?”
Matheson peered up at Berrin from a parchment and drawled, “Polaris is still in the ballroom, ravishing our mate.”
Berrin smiled. “Are you warming to her, then?”
“Are you some kind of simpleton?” He leaned forward, examining his little brother for signs of enchantment. “You’ve missed the most important part!”
“I knew she would charm you, too.” He sat on the leather sofa opposite the desk.
Matheson set down the parchment. “She’s done nothing of the sort. I’m only tolerating her because of Uncle.”
Berrin folded his arms. “So you don’t think she’s beautiful?”
“That has nothing to do with it!” He lowered his voice because if he didn’t, he would scream out the next words loud enough to reach Ella in the kitchen. “They were eating each other’s faces the last time I saw them. Don’t you care that Polaris is probably fornicating a mating bond into her as we speak?”
Berrin’s shoulders drooped. “My only worry is of her being swept off her feet and deciding to be a one-dragon female. I heard about Kaida deciding to only mate with Kennett—”
“Who told you that?” he snarled.
“Her brother was one of my classmates. He brought up the subject in our etiquette class.”
Rage exploded in Matheson’s chest. So he was a cautionary tale, now? Since when was a dragon’s heartache fodder for classroom discussions?
Berrin, the oblivious fool, ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe Father tried to betroth me to a she-dragon I hadn’t even met. Did Polaris know her?”
“Vaguely.” He shook his head, and gestured towards the guest wing. “Don’t you want Goldilocks all to yourself?”
“When father tried to secure her betrothal to all three of us, how did you feel?”
Matheson turned his head and studied Grandfather’s portrait. Kaida had not exactly been pure-blooded, as her mother was a half-blood married to a full dragon. Three-quarter-bloods with wizard ancestors had the capabilities of full dragons but none of the prestige. Matheson had been so relieved that Mother and Father had welcomed Kaida into the family that sharing her with his brothers had been a minor irritation. He had believed she loved him and a couple of interlopers would not change that. At that time,
Polaris hardly ever visited the mansion due to his duties in the King’s Regiment. Father had also relegated Berrin to St. Fafnir’s until his twenty-first birthday, when he would be old enough to mate.
Something that Berrin had said charged to the forefront of his mind. His brows drew together. “How could Kaida’s parents afford to send her brother to St. Fafnir’s.”
“Didn’t you know?” asked Berrin.
Matheson gritted his teeth. “Know what?”
“Kaida’s father negotiated places at the academy for all four of her brothers.”
Anger surged through Matheson’s veins, and his pulse pounded like a drum. His lungs moved like bellows, forcing sharp, noisy breaths through his nostrils. A jumble of thoughts and old emotions resurfaced, threatening to tear him apart. It was customary for the family of the male to pay a bride price and wedding expenses, purchase the trousseau, and to lavish gifts on the family of the she-dragon. The shortage of pure-blooded females in their population skewed the balance of power towards the parents of she-dragons. Even when Kaida’s father had broken the betrothal contract, Father had not insisted on the return of the bride price. Such an act would damage the Auburn family reputation. This new revelation was a knife in the heart.
Berrin leaned forward, his face slack. “Is it the curse flaring up? Are you all right?”
Matheson buried his head in his hands. “Go away.”
“If there’s something wrong with you—”
Matheson slammed his fist on the table, and Berrin stopped talking. He massaged his temples, trying to wipe away his resentment towards Kennet, Kaida and her grasping family. There was nothing he could do about them. She was already mated, and he wouldn’t take her back anyway. But the betrayal had gored him through the heart, and the wound now festered, affecting his view of Marigold. He stood, unable to endure Berrin’s inane questions.
His younger brother also rose from the leather sofa, his blue eyes wide. “Matheson, you have to—”
As he walked past, he said, “I hope you know what you’re doing. These she-dragons will use a male, not caring what becomes of his heart. Once it’s broken, you can expect them to move on to the next male without a backward glance.”
