Sold To The Dragon Princes: The Novel

by Daniella Wright

  Chapter Ten

  Connor had been delightful and pleasant the rest of the evening and I learned a lot about him, it wasn’t until long after the fire had been reduced to ashes that we had said goodnight. This morning, we had a playful breakfast together, he teased me by placing jam on the tip of my nose and he planted a big kiss on my cheek. He left for work and I was forlorn, missing him for the first time. I decided to take my mind off things and meet Sarah at the market. She was sure to be there, today was the day she always went to gather produce. “Hello, friend!” I shouted, waving from across the aisle. “Hi!” she said, her face beaming, Sarah really had become a dear friend and I was so grateful to have her in my life. “How are things going with you and your husband?” she asked coyly. “Very well!” I said, letting my voice get deeper for emphasis. We both giggled like school girls. “Well, have you been able to consummate your union, dear friend?” I bit my lip, “No, I’m nervous. I mean, we’ve been able to explore and wow his kisses are wonderful!” My eyes wide as I gripped both of her hands in mind. “Then what are you waiting for?” she asked me. “I guess, I’m scared it will all be a dream. That I will wake and be back at my cruel uncles.” She gave me a frown, I had never seen that on her face before. “Now don’t go thinking that. You two have made such progress and I can tell you are both just smitten with each other! You’ve done some exploring and you’re still here, aren’t you?” I nodded. “There is something I will tell you, woman to woman.” Her face got serious. “Connor and Felicity, his previous witch of a woman, they made love though they were not married. It happens sometimes, I believe she was Connor’s first and likewise. She was a harlot though, not surprised she ran off with someone else. I can tell you, you are a much better catch! “Besides,” she began, rubbing her very pregnant stomach, “Don’t you want one of these one day?” She tried to make me feel better, Connor with someone else? No wonder I felt like he knew what he was doing. “Sugar, don’t worry. He loves you, love him back.” I thought about her words as we walked from stall to stall. By the time I said goodbye I had decided to follow her advice, and follow it tonight.

  I saw him coming up the hill from my bedroom upstairs. I ran down to greet him. I made sure my breasts were high and my corset tight. “Hello, Connor.” I said with a smile. “Hello, my beautiful wife.” He said, looking me up and down. “Are you hungry?” I asked him, sweetly. “I am, but not for food.” I was unsure of what he meant at first, I think my quizzical stare spurred him on more. He kissed me, hard on the lips. I was surprised, then excited, I felt heat. I kissed him back, I let my tongue search his. I had been longing for his taste, for this moment. I felt his hands settle on my waist. I was tall yet petite, he lifted me easily, our lips still touching. He spun me around, his eyes open and staring into my soul. He put me down gently, took my hand. “I’m sorry, I have just been thinking of you all day.” I smiled, “And I have been of you, as well. Last night was wonderful.” “I am ready.” I told him. He smiled, kissed me and led me upstairs-to his bedroom. It was large and stately, red linens were on the bed, deep dark oak wood. It was extremely masculine. He turned me around and undid my corset, spinning me back around, he traced his fingers over my breasts. I began to remove my dress. I was nervous but the anticipation overrode any discomfort I briefly felt. I let my hands explore his body, take off his vest and jacket as he unbuckled his trousers and let them fall to the floor. I immediately noticed the hard outline of his member, throbbing with desire. I was only in my slip now, so I took that off as well. I was bare before him. His eyes ate me up, my long legs, white as snow and my nipples rosy pink. My hair fell over one breast, long and strawberry, freshly washed. He came close to me, I felt him hard against my body. He pulled me close and my flesh melted with his. His hands lifted me up, his muscles tight and his veins pulsing as he laid me down on his bed. I was nervous, I felt exposed but I felt aroused. He laid on top of me, naked. His soft lips left a trail of sensual kisses across my clavicle, moved up to my lips, my tongue entering his. His fingers slipped inside me and I let out a small whimper. He paused and stroked my hair. “Are you alright?” he asked, “I nodded, letting out a small smile. He pressed harder, I felt his hard cock inside me as he pushed forward. I was wet and hungry for him. His mouth made its way down to my nipples and he licked them, using his hands to grab them and press them together, sucking and licking and kissing. I had never felt anything so wonderful. He moved gently at first, shallow and deep, shallow and deep. I gasped, feeling him inside me, my muscles contracting and releasing, pleasure washing over me like I had not felt. My thighs were tight and opened, welcoming him in. I moaned and grasped his back, my nails digging slightly into him. “Yes, Connor.” I whispered. He thrusted further, using his hand to spread my legs wider. He kissed my neck, taking me in. He thrusted again, sweat beading on his brow. Our skin sticking together slightly, hot and sweet, the musky scent in the air rising around us. I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him in closer and arched my back when I came. He thrusted again and pulled me in close, I felt him inside me, hot and warm; a rush. He laid beside me, panting. I sat up, my head resting on my palm, my elbow on the pillow. He leaned over and kissed my breasts again. “Adaline” he said, “You are ravishing.” I kissed him again and laid back down on the bed and said, “But tell me dear husband, are you really not hungry?” I flashed him a smirk as I heard his stomach growl again. He let out a laugh and scooped me up in his arms, “I suppose I could eat now.” He joked. “Coming right up!” I said and I bounded out of bed, letting him take me in once again as I slid out the door.

  Epilogue:

  Two years had passed since I moved out west. I wondered when I would stop remembering each anniversary; maybe never. As I sat in our home and watched as Sarah and her husband played with their son, James, I laughed and smiled. Connor was sitting beside me, holding my hand. Something he has yet to stop doing anytime we are in the same room. I run my hand over my own stomach this time, it is getting large and the doctor said we should expect twins. Connor fainted the moment he said that, still makes me grin. “I’m going to get tea!” I tell them as I make my way to the kitchen. The house has warmed to me and I to it, flowers are in abundance now, feminine touches and my old room will become a nursery. I wrote my Aunt Rebeccah a few months ago and for the first time. I felt terrible I had not yet contacted her. I just received a letter back from her today, I could feel the joy she felt for me emanating from the script.

  Dearest Adaline,

  I feel great pleasure in knowing you are well. Until I received your letter, I had been thinking of you as the little girl who left two years ago, scared and yet, full of hope. I am sorry to hear that the first few months weren’t easy, but they never are. I am just glad to know you and Connor have found love in each other-something that not everyone receives. Congratulations on the children, you will make a wonderful and very caring mother just as your mother was to you. Both she and your father would be very proud. Find peace in knowing that and that I am well and thinking of you always.

  I hope to see you again one day, Adaline.

  Love,

  Aunt Rebeccah.

  I found it funny that she did not say a word about my uncle, but then again, I guess she knew where I stood with him. It gave my heart joy to be where I was, right at this moment, my past in the past and the future ahead of me. I watched Connor play with James and my heart grew bigger imagining him playing with our son and the memories we would have in this great big house. I watched as he lit up when he held James high in the air, making train noises and hearing the squeal of laughter fill the room. A family, I thought. A family to be proud of.

  After a few hours, our company left and Connor and I settled into our grand bed, tired yet very happy. He sat at the edge of the bed, shirtless and massaged my feet. “My dear, I am so ready to be a father and possibly to twins!” I laughed, “A father you will be, very soon I hope.” And I rolled my eyes as I patted my stomach. “You are still so beautiful.”
He said sincerely. “I don’t know Connor…” I laughed. “His hands stopped moving and he crawled up on top of me, his arms supporting his weight as his face was close to mine; our noses touching. He kissed me, slowly and passionately. I had fluctuated in my wont to sleep with him. My hormones were raging and sometimes that was all I could think of and other times I wanted nothing to do with him, plus I felt as large as Percy and not attractive in the slightest. His fingers slowly went up my body, my skin tingling at his touch. “Connor..” I said, coyly. I felt the heat rising in my body. He knew exactly where to touch to turn me on. His hands roamed my body, teasing me. My breasts have enlarged and neither of us are upset about that. His hands caressed them, his thumb lightly rubbing over my nipples sending shakes over my body. His mouth moved over

  Them, my body responding to his touch. He moved me over and he laid behind me. He caressed my body and pulled me in close. I heard his pants unbutton and felt the material hit my body as he slid them off. He kissed my neck and I felt a smile spreading across my face. He entered me from behind, I felt his strength inside me and I don’t think I had ever wanted it so badly. The sounds of sex penetrated our bedroom as he grinded into me. The pressure escalating inside me, the white-hot light being touched inside me. He pushed and thrusted and I cried out to him. I let my right-hand move behind me and I grabbed his thigh. “I love you, Adaline.” He whispered, his hot breath sending shivers down my neck. “I love you too, Connor.” I replied, breathless as I was reaching my peak. “Come for me” he said, as he thrusted harder, his hands grasping my full breasts. “I reached around the back of his neck and pulled him closer, his lips resting on my back. I let out a cry and released and felt him do the same. I felt him shift and he moved to the other side of me, letting a trail of kisses fall over me in his wake. “Mother of my children, my bride, my beautiful wife.” He said as he looked longingly into my eyes. My hand cupped his face and I kissed him softly. “Goodnight, sweet husband.” I said as we curled up together, completely sated and content.

  Promised To Mr. Cold

  ~Bonus Story~

  An Interracial Arranged Marriage Romance

  Fleur knows what her future holds, a Plaçage arrangement in 1801 New Orleans isn't unheard of. Fleur also knows that, even not wanting to go through with the left hand wedding, she could have it worse. She could be a slave worked to the bone like her mother was. When she becomes a placee to one John Goodsome her whole life changes.

  John doesn't want this arrangement either, but he does want Fleur. It's a race to figure one another out before the times and the imbedded culture of racism ruin their budding romance.

  When the first kiss burns this hot there are only two options, a forever kind of love or going up in flames.

  * * *

  Normally this time of year was Fleur’s favorite. The air was still hot but had lost the bite that led to sunburns and soaked tignons. Standing with Mama in the mornings or working in their garden next to her wasn’t so scorching. She always loved the smell of the Seneca, however she appreciated it much more when she wasn’t dripping sweat onto the precious leaves she helped her mother cultivate. Even the lemonade Mama or she made each day after chores, sometimes with a slice or two of peaches added in for a little extravagance, tasted better on those cooler October days. She and Mama would move two chairs from the townhouse to their lawn and sit side by side while they gossiped and sipped. Every so often, Mama would sit alone and Fleur would use a bit of the scrap fabric and leftover dye to paint. She'd once used only brown, watered down to different shades, to capture Mama sitting like a regal but penniless princess gilded in the rays of the New Orleans sun.

  This year however was quite different. No matter what Fleur was engaged in, a souring fear stayed in place in her belly. She tried sometimes to rub it out, moving her hand over her middle in gentle circling motions. The terror never left.

  In just a few days she’d be taking her place in a left hand marriage, giving her body of color to a white man her mother had agreed to. Her father had also agreed, made this deal in fact, but that was neither here nor there to Fleur. Whenever thoughts of her father started to root in she banished them. She hadn’t seen her father since the day she was born, the same day Mama gained her freedom and the bare sum that had allowed her to buy their rather rickety townhouse. Everything else they had; furniture, food, clothes, Mama’s business, had come from Mama’s inherent ingenuity. While she hated the idea of the upcoming agreement she couldn’t blame Mama for assenting to it. It had bought Mama her freedom, a privilege she’d never had before, and Fleur’s escape from a lifetime of servitude in her own father’s home. All in all, it was a good deal.

  “Vous venez, ou?” her mother’s crisp French broke through her maudlin thoughts.

  “Yes, Maman, I am coming,” she answered.

  She grabbed the canvas bag of supplies from next to the door and trotted behind her mother down two streets and around a corner dominated by a towering Oak tree. The twisting branches still seemed like fairy tale magic although Fleur had outgrown bedtime stories some time ago. The smell of someone frying plantains wafted to her nose, causing her stomach to rumble as she was unpacking. Mama heard, smiled at her, and told her that tonight seemed like a barigoule kind of night. The thought of the vanilla scented broth bubbling away in their hearth brought about a second growl. The hunger was quickly overshadowed by the ever present belly ache of fear, though.

  They easily and without much thought went through the motions of setting up Mama’s little stand. The cloth was brought out carefully, lovingly and displayed by hanging the bolts on a rack in the back. Mama had woven each of these patterns on her loom, dyed each of the colors by her own hand. Fleur had assisted, as she did with just about every household task, but Mama was the true artist in this. Additionally, Mama always reminded her that soon her days of labor would be behind her. Soon she would be protected by her signed contract, protected by a man who was obliged to put a comfortable roof over her head and pay for the food that would fill her table.