Spell Of Love: Dragon's Desire

by Alyssa Brooks

  And he knew how to please.

  With hardy, full thrusts, he drove into her. He pulled out until nearly free of her, then drove so deep she did not know how he went in so far. He tortured her with a mix of slow and fast, circles and thrusts.

  The muscles of her cunnie tightened until they could not hold any more. With a sudden gush, she released in a wild orgasm. All the while, she used her spoon to slap his ass.

  After she came, she just laid against his shoulder a moment. Then once again she raised her spoon. “Come, slave.”

  It was truly as if he had the power to obey that command. He dove deep into her and filled her with his semen.

  The raging, overpowering lust that had taken her disappeared. But her mind did not fight what had just happened. Instead, it battled one very strange fact.

  He had walked on glass, licked her toes while kneeling in it, fucked her as he stood in it. But he did not have a scratch on him nor a complaint of any pain.

  Something was too weird. The croc she had reasoned away. But this ... this made no sense.

  Chapter Five

  Lifting her in his arms, Bryhan cupped her ass and carried her over the glass to the other side of the island. He didn’t like the look on her face. He’d forgotten himself. Bloody hell.

  Things like glass shards didn’t bother him. What pain occurred was inconsequential. His body healed itself so fast, it was if the injury had never happened. Only pleasure could affect him to the point where he noticed.

  He needed to come up with something. Fast. Or she was going to start asking questions he wouldn’t answer. He liked sex with her too much for that.

  Setting her down on the white marble floor, he twisted a tendril of her red hair around his finger so she couldn’t step away. “No worries. I’m no ghost. It’s a trick I learned from an Aboriginal tribe. I spent some time with them when they rescued me from dying from dehydration in the outback. A long story, luv, but now I can walk over anything without injury, or even pain.”

  It was an out-and-out lie. Bloody hell. Sometimes he hated that wizard. And himself, for all the lies he told.

  Sparks of interest flickered in her green eyes. “Amazing.”

  She was going to bombard him with questions. Want to know more. He had to change the subject, and fast. “How about that sandwich?” He dropped her hair and headed back around the island. “I better clean up this mess first. Then I’ll make you a sandwich, and we’ll talk about that croc.”

  He bent, gathering the glass in his palm. Along with it, he picked up the scattered sandwich. He heard her let out a deep sigh and pull out a stool.

  She drummed her fingers. “No, I don’t think so.”

  Still bent, he turned and looked for a trashcan. He found one under the counter, as well as a dustpan. He dumped the glass in and grabbed the pan, standing. “What don’t you think? I can’t make a sandwich? ’Cause I gotta tell you ...”

  He bent to sweep up the mess.

  “No.”

  He paused, his hand in midair. Slowly he stood and turned around. “No?”

  “No, I can’t let you go after that croc again. After ...”

  “The attack changes nothing. It’s my bloody job, and I plan to do it.”

  That croc was a big one. Dangerous. Most of the time, crocs were more harmless than the humans invading their homes. Just like the dragon.

  But this one had a mean, deadly streak in him. And it was no wonder, with the way his territory had been invaded and food sources slashed.

  All too often people dubbed the crocs the bad guys. The real problem was the humans. Any way around it, the croc needed to be taken somewhere safe. Somewhere he could have the room he needed.

  “The attack changes everything. So does ...” Her words trailed off, leaving everything hanging.

  There it was. The awkwardness. Bloody hell. This just kept getting worse.

  He really didn’t feel like letting it. He felt like fucking her again, or rather, having her fuck him. She had a way about her, so in charge and bloody damned sexy. Never had he met a woman quite like her. Ms. Fields was ... “You know, we never even exchanged first names.”

  To his joy, she laughed. “You’re right.”

  He stepped closer, feeling drawn to her. “Bryhan.”

  Her sweet mouth curled into a smile. “Jay.”

  The look on her freckled face made his insides curl with warmth. An itch to reach out and stroke her face almost overwhelmed him.

  Bending, he swept up the mess as he spoke. “Well, Jay. We can stand here and argue. Or I can clean up this mess. We can have a sandwich. Have sex again. Maybe twice. Then I’ll wrestle the croc. And that’s that. You’ll have your barbie; I’ll have my money. We’ll both have good memories.”

  “No.”

  He ignored her as he finished sweeping the glass into the pan.

  The mess cleaned up, he turned to look her in the eyes. “Jay, you should know a thing or two about me. In bed, I love being pushed around by a bossy, greedy woman. But out of bed, I am my own man. I’ll do what I damn well please, and if I want to get that croc, I will. A little sprite like you is hardly going to stop me. So save it for the sack, luv.”

  Chapter Six

  It wasn’t often that she was left speechless. But his words flabbergasted her. If she did say something, she’d likely sound like an idiot. She was angry, annoyed, and loving it all at once.

  Bryhan was ...

  Hell. He was her fantasy man. Her every naughty dream come true.

  She hated weak yes-men. She needed a man who could stand tall. Proud. Yet at the same time, she liked a man who was man enough to let her take charge. Not afraid to let her wield the whip.

  She was, indeed, a paradox. Having a man at her feet was one of her biggest fantasies. But her other was being tied up quite securely and tortured with sex play. Spanked. All sorts of dirty, nasty things she could say no to all she liked, and not escape.

  She gulped. Bryhan was the only man she’d ever met who she thought could fill those shoes. He could easily make her wild fantasies come true. She knew, given the chance, he would.

  But he pissed her off so badly, she could never let him. Who was he to tell her no on her own land? To tell her she couldn’t fire him?

  She continued to drum her fingers, not having a clue what to do. She just sat there, stunned by it all.

  She could fight it all she wanted. But in the end, she already knew their fate.

  Naked, his glorious form flitted about the kitchen, making her a sandwich. She watched in utter amazement as went to the fridge and pulled out the ketchup and hot sauce.

  Could he actually be about to ...

  No way. No one made sandwiches like she did.

  She sat watching in awe as he laid out a slice of bread, layered on some roast beef, slathered it in ketchup and hot sauce, and then piled banana peppers over it all. Topping everything with two slices of cheese, he slapped the second slice of bread on top and sliced the whole thing diagonally. Not down the center, mind you, but from corner to corner.

  Exactly the way she loved her sandwiches.

  No one else ate a sandwich that way. No one.

  How did he know? Had he been watching her, or something weird?

  Putting one half of the sandwich on a plate, he delivered it to her while taking a huge bite out of the other half. “My secret recipe, luv.”

  She just stared at him in disbelief.

  Could that be true? If it was, it was like some sort of weird omen or sign. How much more meant to be were they, if they both ate sandwiches like that?

  She was going to hyperventilate. She couldn’t breath. She couldn’t think.

  Jumping up, she knocked the stool down as she ran from the room.

  Bryhan watched her go, all the while planning to go after her. But he’d give her a minute. Time enough for her to get clean and be unsuspecting. And for him to think.

  The sound of the water running in the shower hissed through the house
. He leaned on the counter, taking bites from his sandwich and picking at the crust. The taste of the processed meat and cheese, the hot condiments and dressings filled him with the strong burn of remembrance. How his life continued to change over the years. Nothing was ever the same.

  He certainly hadn’t had ketchup, hot sauce, or banana peppers back then. Hell, bread hadn’t even come in a bag.

  He’d gone from riding a stallion, chasing after dragons, to driving a van, saving crocodiles. From royalty to rags, yet ironically everything was so much more easily obtainable now.

  But no matter how times changed, he didn’t. The empty hole in his soul didn’t. No matter the friends he had, he was alone. The times when he could actually feel close with someone were few and far between. When it happened, he latched on and didn’t want to let go.

  Jay was not someone he could pass up. He had to take his fill of her. To load up his memory bank for getting through those cold, lonely nights. The times when nothing could soothe the fact that he had never married. Never had kids. Never could have family beyond his brothers and mother. Could never even be his true self to all those who thought they knew him.

  Yeah. He wasn’t leaving this house till he had his fill of Jay Fields, and then some. She certainly wouldn’t be one to forget, and he was going to make damn bloody sure she remembered him.

  Just as he finished the last bite, the telephone began to ring. The rattling nose made him jump, but he quickly composed himself. Might as well answer it for her.

  He grabbed the old-fashioned replica wall phone from its hook. It never ceased to amaze him the way people had all these modern inventions at their disposal, yet they relished old things. Just looking around her house, he saw it was decorated as if she yearned to live in the early twentieth century. The kitchen overflowed with little antiques, replicas, and country crafts.

  He couldn’t understand it. The past wasn’t all that great. He’d been there. Anyone who’d ever used a chamber pot wouldn’t idolize the past.

  “Hello?” he answered.

  “Bryhan? What the fuck are you doing answering her phone?”

  “Ah. Leigh. Just in for lunch.”

  “You’re not fucking a customer, are you? Is that what the fuck is taking so long?”

  “Watch your mouth, little Birdie.” He could almost see her itching to reach through the phone and smack him. She hated that nickname. But she did look like a bird, fragile-boned and sharp-nosed. Had a nastier mouth, though. He loathed when women talked like trash. Where he came from, ladies acted like ladies.

  Lucky for Birdie, he still loved her. He’d watched her grow up, which was how she had ended up being his secretary. A favor to her daddy. He’d promised to clean her mouth up, as well, but had yet to be successful.

  “Shut the fuck up.” She laughed through the line.

  Bryhan couldn’t help but laugh. His unsuccessfulness came from the fact that she knew he could never actually fire her.

  He slouched against the wall, tapping his foot with impatience. “So, why are you calling here?”

  “Because I haven’t heard jack from you, and your brother Edmund has called twice. Some sort of big news, and he wanted to check your flight time for tomorrow. If you don’t finish up there fucking soon, you won’t have time to pack, much less make your reunion. What the fuck are you doing out there, anyway?”

  Bryhan jerked upright. “Shit.”

  How had he forgotten so easily about that? The gathering was this week. He should be packing even now. He’d only taken this job because he’d been sure he could get the croc and meet Tinker in time. Which would have been an hour ago.

  “Has Tinker called?”

  “Three times. It’s fucking hot out today, you know. He says flies are swarming in his eyes just to get a drink.”

  He hadn’t known. Jay had air conditioning.

  The decision was so sudden, so hard, it swept through him like a tidal wave. He wanted it so strongly, he refused to think on it, because then he would have to be reasonable. “Cancel my flight. And tell Tinker sorry. I’ll take care of the croc myself. Later this week.”

  “Are you fucking shitting me? You ...”

  “Enough of the foul language, luv.” With that, he hung up the phone. Quickly, his fingers moving so fast they nearly tripped over each other, he dialed up Edmund. The phone rang off the hook. He didn’t hang up, hoping for an answering machine. That would make canceling much easier.

  Suddenly the phone picked up, a strange female’s sleepy voice purring over the line like a sex kitten. “Morning, sweetie.”

  “Sweetie? Who in the bloody hell is this?”

  “Who is this?”

  “Who the bloody hell is this? Where the bloody hell is Edmund?” Something wasn’t right. Edmund never actually let a whore spend the night. Or stay in his apartment while he worked. Could he ...

  No way.

  “Where the bloody hell is my brother?”

  “Edmund is out right now. I can have him call you,” she offered. “He won’t be in until this evening. He had to go to San Francisco to meet a client.”

  “This evening? Damn. I, um ...” A million things raced through his mind all at once, from questioning her, to the gathering, to Jay. In the end, thoughts of Jay were more powerful than anything else. “This is his brother, Bryhan. Listen, luv. Later won’t be good to ring me up. Just tell him something’s come up. I won’t be making it.”

  “Bryhan ... are you sure? Is everything okay?”

  “Be a dear and just pass him the rotten news. Cheers.” With that, he quickly hung up the phone.

  With long strides he went to join Jay.

  Okay. So he got to her even more than she would admit to herself. She’d headed to the shower to cool off. Instead she was in here masturbating. She just couldn’t help it. Once the water had started to beat against her sensitive skin, visions of him had swept through her mind.

  But this time he wasn’t under her. He was all over her. All in her. Torturing her with his fingers. His mouth. His cock. Playing with her ass. Spanking her.

  Jay propped her leg up on the side of the tub, slipping two fingers into her sex. She pumped them in and out, gliding them through the moist tunnel as the water poured over her.

  But it wasn’t enough. She wanted something naughtier. She wanted to be bad and punished for it. Reaching round with her free hand, she spread her ass cheeks apart. Her anus spread open, pulsing in anticipation. Her finger glided over it, wishing to God she had a dildo.

  Suddenly the bathroom door swung open, letting the steam escape. Bryhan stood in the doorway, staring at her. Jay dropped her hands to her sides with a piercing squeal, then covered her privates with her left hand, using her other arm to hide her breasts. The damn frosted glass was hardly enough to hide her from him.

  She tried to shrink down. “What are you doing?”

  Bryhan strode in like it was nothing. Going to the sink, he grabbed up her toothbrush. Ignoring her, he spread some of the red cinnamon paste over it and wet it. Then, just like that, he proceeded to brush his teeth.

  With her toothbrush.

  “That’s my fucking toothbrush, asshole!” she screeched, totally beyond herself. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  “Not the kind of language I like,” he mumbled through foamy strokes. “You’ll have to be punished.” He paused, spitting out. He turned to her, his blue eyes filled with the threat -- no, promise -- of forbidden things. “Not that you have the right to question me, woman. But I am cleaning my mouth so I can freshly taste you. Now get the hell out of the shower before you make me madder.”

  Jay wanted to jump out and right onto him. God help her, his words made her practically cream herself. It didn’t help that masturbating had her ready as it was, her sex dripping with juice. Her nipples hard. Her anus throbbing.

  She told herself she stood there for a multitude of righteous reasons. She refused to admit she was hoping to push him farther with his little gam
e.

  He made a tsk-tsk with his tongue. Shaking his head, he bent and rinsed his mouth. He came back up dripping, little trails of water running over his mouth.

  She wished it was her cum.

  With a sly look, he bent and gathered her clothes. Then he took the towels. And without another word, he walked out.

  Annoyance punched through her. Why had he taken them? She couldn’t dry off. She couldn’t cover herself. Damn him! What kind of game was he playing?

  “Asshole! That is not funny. Bring my shit back here now.”

  Nothing. No response at all.

  She was sure he wasn’t coming back, which left her little recourse. She pushed open the sliding door and stepped out soaking wet. Her hair fell in pasted, curly strands around her face. It needed squeezing out, but she was too annoyed.

  He sat on her bed, calmly. As if he’d done nothing, he flipped through television channels. Without turning to her, he said, “I told you I don’t like that language.”

  Her hands went to her hips. “I told you to bring back my stuff.”

  “Get over here. Now.”

  “No,” she huffed. But all the while she itched to go over to him. Her breath became ragged. Her pussy was so tight, her muscles ached. She needed release.

  Christ, she needed to go to him.

  “Now,” he snapped, still not even looking at her. “The more you resist ...”

  Jay knew she couldn’t deny him forever. While she liked the idea of him increasing his threat, she wasn’t sure how much of this she could handle. She’d never played like this before. No man had ever been confident enough to enact such games with her. Never had she been so confident in herself. Perhaps because she already knew what was meant to be.

  Her body took control while her mind fought. She took fast strides over to him, surprised when he didn’t grab her. Instead, he looked up at her, patting his knees. “Over my knees. Now.”