Spell Of Love: Dragon's Desire

by Alyssa Brooks

  She wanted someone to marry. Have babies with. Someone who would love her.

  Not a man like him. Anyone who fell asleep on a new employer’s porch in the middle of the night was obviously reckless. Why hadn’t he thought ahead, perhaps gotten a hotel? He’d been hasty and careless in his actions. That sort of man hardly made for a good husband or father. No, he was the fling type. And she was not having any more flings.

  Besides, she hated being around people anymore. The more contact she had, the more they came. She wanted to keep them away for good. The visions weren’t always bad, but they weren’t always good, either. Seeing a premonition of her best friend’s death and being helpless to stop it had been the final straw. Good, bad, whatever, she had no interest in the future.

  She thrust her coffee mug at him. His fingers caressed hers, the sensation of his rough calluses jolting across her sensitive skin.

  His hands were everywhere, feeling the most intimate parts of her hot, naked body as he thrust in and out of her. Her sex clenched around him, teetering on the brink of an orgasm, one so strong she couldn’t take it. Together they sweated and panted, fucking like wild animals. His hands were everywhere. Everywhere. No man had ever touched her in such places. Everywhere. She screamed out, convulsing. And then he filled her with his pleasure.

  Jay jerked out of it, gasping for breath. Her vision cleared, revealing the man staring at her with the oddest look.

  Had she done anything weird? Said anything? The man’s hands had been everywhere. It had been so powerful, so real. Never had she had one like that.

  She had to get out of here.

  “Here. Drink it. Then get those crocs out.” For some unknown reason, she snapped at him as if he were her worst enemy.

  It was just, he was impossible to be around. Not without wanting to jump his bones. And what if he touched her again? She couldn’t take another vision like that.

  Now she knew. She was going to fuck him. Sooner or later. She couldn’t avoid it if she wanted to. Maybe she should throw in the towel and get it over with. Yet ...

  The sensible part of her futilely resisted. That door to her was locked. The key thrown away.

  She gulped and stepped back, trying hard but failing in her attempt to stop looking at him.

  For hell’s sake, all she could think about was throwing him down and climbing aboard. From the bulge in his pants, his cock was huge. How big it would be when it hardened ...

  Jay fidgeted. Her panties were getting wet.

  “I’ll need to use your phone. My van’s out of gas, down the road a bit. No sense in wrestling the crocs if I can’t haul them away.” He took a sip of her coffee, then quickly spat it out with a look of disgust. His thick brows furrowed; his lips contorted into a lopsided grimace. “What the bloody hell?”

  “I’m on a diet.”

  Taken aback, he swept his gaze over her. “What in the bloody hell for?”

  Bryhan blatantly studied her body -- her perfect, tantalizing body. A diet? She was crazy if she was doing anything to alter that figure.

  She had hips. Ass. Not too big; she certainly didn’t make J. Lo look like a pancake or anything. But just enough for a man to slip his cock up in between, all nice and warm and cushiony.

  Oh, yeah, she’d be fun to pump into. Shift gears a little.

  But the rest of her ... bloody hell, she was tiny. He could wrap his hands round her waist. Cradle her perky B-cup tits in his palms.

  Her whole upper body was a fragile, delicate structure. Slim shoulders, ribs that he could trace, a stomach flatter than the plains in the outback.

  His eyes drifted down. Feet happened to be an obsession of his. Tiny, thin-boned ones, with red-painted nails. A pinky toe so little it hardly had a nail. Just a slim slice of red where she’d attempted to apply the polish, despite the hopelessness of it.

  Just like hers.

  He bet her toes tasted good. He wanted to lick them. Tease them. Suck them.

  So he had a lot of time to think about women. Since he never managed to keep one, sex was constantly on his mind. What the bloody hell else could he do but think about it? It wasn’t as if he could just blurt out to some woman that he would live forever and ask if she’d join him.

  His secret could never be told. And it made love a little impossible. Since he didn’t have his brother Edmund’s penchant for whores, it left him little recourse.

  He just couldn’t stop staring at those feet. Then he noticed their impatient tapping against the porch boards, drumming like fingers on a table.

  She cleared her throat. “Are you done?”

  “Done?” He yanked his gaze to her face. Bloody hell, but she was a hot sheila. Prettier than a picture, with eyes as green as grass and red hair curlier than he’d ever seen. Her skin was pale, despite the Australian sun. Freckles dotted across her nose.

  She pursed her lips, her mouth tiny in diameter, but plump and kissable. “Are you done checking me out? Or I do need to stand here and model for you?”

  “No, luv. Not necessary. But if you want ...”

  She squealed, clenching her fists. “Oh, I am so ready to send you packing.”

  “But then who would rid you of your croc?” He flashed her a half smile, all too aware of the dimples he pushed into his cheeks. “Be a mate and put up with my rude way. I’m only half man. The rest is beast.”

  Her lips parted, pausing. Her tongue traced over them slowly, as if she were pondering the concept very hard.

  “I don’t doubt that.” Her tone was stilted. Filled with lust. “Mr. Wulfhere. Use my phone, if you must. Then get that croc and get out of here.”

  “Ah, luv. Not always that easy. I’ll have to watch him a bit. Size him up.” He shook his head. She was just like the others. No appreciation for anything but what they wanted. They just moved in, took over, and expected the wildlife to bloody smile and ship off. He’d bet that croc had been here long before her. “Perhaps he won’t want to leave. You may have to. I charge double if that’s the case.”

  Anger flashed across her face, her green eyes narrowing into two shooting beams. She stepped forward, poking her finger at him. Her voice rose with every word. “You listen here. I am not playing games. My family is coming here in days for a huge, week-long barbie. They are coming all the way from America, and there will be children. I expect them to be safe near that creek. Or I will take your little business and tear it in two.” She brushed past him, stomping away. Then she paused. “Don’t you dare think of walking off, either.”

  Bryhan licked his lips. Never had any sheila talked to him like that. He probably ought to tell her to shove it.

  But damn, he liked it. The woman was in control.

  She was a spoiled, he guessed rich, brat. But she had sauce. Dominance.

  He licked his lips. It wasn’t hard to imagine kissing her feet, begging to be allowed to touch more of her. He could shoot off just licking those toes, knowing she stood over him in total control. Maybe even with a whip.

  He never did get her first name.

  Chapter Two

  After dressing in jean shorts and a ribbed white tank top, Jay stalked to the barn. Her head held high, she remained annoyed at the man. Totally blaming him. Even if, deep down, she knew he hadn’t said or done anything all that bad.

  Instead, she made excuses. She knew she did. She didn’t care. Her very heart seethed, the man having poked her nerves to the limit.

  How dare he check her out like that? She could see he was thinking disgusting things and without even trying to hide it. At least she’d been discreet.

  Hadn’t she? Of course she had. She was always in control. Except when the visions came.

  No. She sucked in a breath. Okay. She had to forget the vision.

  She was in charge. Always. That’s how she lived. That’s how she would stay.

  After all, it was how she had gotten to where she was in life. Control. Strength. Determination. Not many other women ventured off from America to mine for gold,
alone in the Australian outback. But she had. And she’d gotten rich. She wouldn’t have accepted anything less, either. What she wanted, she took. One way or the other. “No” did not exist in her vocabulary.

  Her mare whinnied. Walking to Lily’s stall, she swung open the gate and stepped in. She ran her hands over the horse’s tan coat, feeling the prickly hairs. A calm feeling swept over her at the thought of a ride.

  Yeah. She needed to ride. Hopefully, by the time she got back, Mr. Wulfhere and the croc would be history.

  This was not what she needed ten days before her family was to arrive. She wanted everything to be perfect when she showed them she’d made it. Without college. Without their overbearing help.

  Maybe it was childish, but she’d worked hard. She’d done it. And for that, she thought maybe she deserved a little “way to go” and bragging time. Her parents had never understood why she wouldn’t make them proud, become a lawyer like the both of them.

  She’d never told them she’d inherited her grandmother’s gift. That if she became a lawyer, every client she took would be like an open book to her. How could she defend guilty people, especially when she would possibly know the bad things they’d do when free?

  Prosecution would have been worse. Every criminal that walked, that she failed to see convicted, she’d know.

  Her parents were just going to have to accept that she was her own person. That she had her own dreams. They didn’t include courts or those damn visions.

  This barbie was important to her. She wanted her family to see how happy she was. Pulled together and making it. She didn’t need a croc to ruin it, any more than she needed to be invaded with premonitions. Especially not ones like that. Dear God, she’d almost had a real orgasm from it.

  Yup, the croc and Mr. Wulfhere needed to go. Like, today. And she’d dare say if that didn’t happen, the croc was a might safer than Mr. Wulfhere.

  Hell, if she had to deal with him anymore, she was going to make him kiss the feet he so loved to stare at. Not to mention lots of other, equally naughty things.

  But then, didn’t she already know it was her fate?

  * * * * *

  Bryhan scouted the river, studying the tracks. Around him, gnarly trees with sparse leaves lined the bank. Tufts of long, yellowing grass burst through the dry mud.

  He hadn’t caught sight of the beast yet, but he had a feeling the croc was watching his every move. He had to stay on guard because crocs were known for stalking and ambushing. They’d fly from the water so suddenly, their prey wouldn’t have a moment to draw a breath before they were under and rolling.

  From the looks of it, Ms. Fields had herself a big one. Not completely mature. These days, those were rare. But it was no baby, either. Once the tow guy brought in his van, he’d have to radio Leigh and tell her to send Tinker over.

  Not that anything could kill him, but there were appearances to keep. And the croc’s safety. He was good. He wasn’t dumb. He never did anything alone unless he was one-hundred-percent sure he could handle it.

  Down below, his cock yanked up, suddenly so hard he was sure it would explode. Bloody hell. Was he even still talking about the croc?

  For hell’s sake, he was. But his mind was all over Ms. Fields. If he could handle her. Or better yet, if she could handle him.

  He bet she could.

  He turned, ready to start back to the house to wait until his van arrived. Instantly, he caught site of her. She rode her horse through the field, her curly red hair flowing behind her in a wild mess. Straight at him she raced, reminding him of a soldier going into battle. She leaned low in order to streamline herself. Her hands gripped the reins in a sure grasp, her feet never once kicking the beast for added speed.

  Could the animal understand her? Was she at one with the mare? It sure appeared that way. He knew of very few people who communicated with beasts in such a way. At the school assemblies he gave, kids and teachers alike were always either too eager or too scared. Never calm. Never dominant.

  Closer and closer she rode, reining in only when he could see the beads of hot sweat dripping from her reddened face. Her skin glistened in the heat. Her eyes burned.

  Bloody hell. She didn’t really expect him to be gone so soon. Did she?

  He ...

  Suddenly, sharp teeth sank into his calf, pain stabbing through him like a thousand knives. Pulled off balance, he fell facedown. Not once did he have a chance to draw a breath. He was yanked into the water and under.

  Chapter Three

  OH, MY GOD!

  Jay yanked her horse to a stop, her thumping heart nearly ready to be spat out. The croc had just yanked him under, faster than a lightning flash.

  Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

  He was gone. Mr. Wulfhere, her croc wrestler, was being killed at this very moment.

  Bile rose in her throat, choking her. For hell’s sake, she had to do something! But what? What could she do?

  Okay. Okay. She had to get it together. She had to do something. She sucked in a sharp breath. Okay. What?

  She certainly couldn’t go in there after him. By the time she rode to the house for her gun, he’d be dead. If he wasn’t already.

  Never had her hands been so tied. A man was dying. She could do nothing. Nothing!

  The concept rang in her ears like a painful buzzing. She clenched the reins, wanting to slide down, but not allowing herself. Her knuckles went white from her hard grasp. Her mind swam; she was unable to avert her gaze from the water as she hoped. Prayed.

  Oh, God. He had to come back up. How had she not seen this when she touched him? It was usually the bad things she saw. But instead, she had seen them together. Intimate.

  So he had to live, right?

  Oh, God. Or had it been a vision at all? Were her senses failing her? Could she trust the future to be as she saw it? Or was this man dying?

  Bubbles and foam floated up to coat the water, a fight obviously being duked out in the depths. Suddenly, Mr. Wulfhere popped up, his hand raised. Then he was quickly yanked back down.

  Abruptly, all went still.

  Bryhan flung himself on the croc’s back, wrapping his arms around its chest. There was nothing he could do but wear the thrashing beast out. Eventually it would have to give up. Unfortunately, their fight would have to end there and begin again another time. He had no rope to wrap its jaw.

  No matter. It wasn’t like the croc could kill him.

  He rode the croc like it was a bucking wild bronco. Lower and lower, they sank into creek. The water’s depths went to nearly three meters. Over the murky bottom they rolled, stirring up all sorts of disgusting muck. The waters clouded so thick, seeing became impossible.

  Regardless, he held on. The croc whipped about wilder and wilder. The harder it jerked, the harder Bryhan held on. The animal started to spin, and he rolled with it.

  All the while, he cursed his foolishness. He’d let the redheaded witch distract him, an easy feat for her. Now look what he had to deal with.

  Suddenly the fight ceased. The animal went still. But Bryhan knew better. The croc was playing dead. As soon as he let go, the croc would attack again. Bryhan held on tight to its back. How long would this go on? A croc could stay under well over an hour.

  Bryhan tightened his grip to show he wasn’t wavering. Again the animal started to thrash. Its tail sliced through the water like a sword. So much, the croc reminded him of the dragon. Perhaps it was the tail. He wished he could tell the animal he wouldn’t harm it. That he sought to protect it. But soon the croc would learn.

  The croc fell still again. For a moment it paused, as if to get a breath. Bryhan softened his hold, wondering what it would do. Was it finished? Giving up?

  After a moment, the croc started to swim off. Thankful, Bryhan let go. The croc was done, for now. Tired.

  But Bryhan knew he’d better be fast. Kicking to the top of the water with all the strength in his legs, he butterfly-stroked to the shore. His feet sank into the rich red mud,
creating suction with each step he took. Exhausted, he half-walked, half-crawled onto the bank. Oxygen flooded his burning lungs as he gasped and panted. Dirty, nasty water sputtered up into his mouth, and he spit it out.

  And then he heard her cry. It pierced through the air. Relieved. Shocked. Unbelievably loud.

  He raised his gaze to her. Ms. Fields came running full-tilt toward him, her arms outspread and flapping.

  Bryan gasped again, but not from the water.

  How the hell was he going to explain this? Even if it were possible for a man to escape such an attack, he’d been under water for well over five minutes.

  How the hell was he going to explain this?

  Jay raced to his side, practically choking on her heart. He was alive! Thank God! As she covered the distance, her eyes scanned his body. His wet, dripping clothes hung over his chiseled muscles, clinging to their hills and valleys. His hair was pasted to the sides of his head, and his eyes were red from his time spent underwater.

  But no blood fell from him. Not a drop.

  His blue eyes sparked with shock, growing wider with every step. Then suddenly, he dropped like a swatted fly. His huge body collapsed to the ground in a limp heap. His every muscle went still, like a corpse.

  Dropping to her knees beside him, she checked for a pulse. No sooner did she touch him than it overtook her.

  Her mouth went to his neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. She wanted to leave marks. Like she was laying some sort of animistic claim. Under her, he thrust his hips and drove his thick cock into her. The steady rhythm stroked against her G-spot, making her climax build. She ...

  Jay yanked herself free, stumbling backwards as she did. She landed hard on her rump on the bank. Luckily, the red mud was soft, and it cushioned her fall.

  Immediately she jumped back up, again ready to feel for his pulse. But as she stood over him, she hesitated. What if ...?

  No, she had to be strong. She had to do this.