Every single inch of his length rammed inside of me, filling my pussy to the brim, taking control of me.
In the aftermath of yet another orgasm, I heard a loud crack before the bed finally collapsed, the legs giving out under Titus’ powerful thrusts.
Still, he continued.
My body was covered in his love markings. My pussy torn apart.
And yet, I was loving every minute of it.
Through the curtains, I saw the first rays of sunlight peek through the window, falling on us.
Titus’ growls turned into grunts, his cock twitching. He rammed into me one more time before his load exploded inside of me, filling me with his hot, sticky cum.
He collapsed on top of me, a puff of air escaping from his lips. Instantly, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tight against his chest, his cock still inside of me.
I wiggled my wrists, signaling for him to undo the belt. When he did, I shimmied closer, resting my head on his shoulder. “Titus?”
“Yes, my love?”
“If I fall asleep, will you still be here in the morning?”
“I will never leave your side again.”
Epilogue
A beautiful spring day,
I’ve lost track of the time I have spent here. There are no calendars or clocks to mark the passage of time. Everything is eternal and beautiful.
Titus is in a constant state of perfection, surprising me each and every day. Some mornings he is ready with breakfast while others he rolls on top of me and ravishes me all day long.
Just thinking about it sends me into a flurry.
But, what I have come to enjoy the most is riding him. The sense of exhilaration that flows through me in those moments is not something I can explain. The wind whipping through my hair, the adrenaline rushing through my veins.
Sometimes, I still think it’s all a dream.
Who would have thought dragons were real? Who would have thought a dragon could transform into a handsome man capable of blowing me away each and every night?
It’s like I’m living in a fairy tale. I was once the studious ecology major who had plans of getting a job and living a mundane life. Now, my life is filled with the unexpected.
I hope this fantasy never ends.
Truly,
Pearl
I finished my journal entry, setting the quill pen Titus had gifted me on top of the gorgeous leather-bound book he had also given me. Throughout my experience in the enchanted castle, I did my best to record everything that happened.
“Ah, I thought I’d find you out here.” Titus arrived holding a tray of tea. “Writing in your journal?”
“I couldn’t stand to be inside when it was such a beautiful day. Do you see how the flowers bloom?”
Titus smiled a knowing smile. He had built this garden just for me, managing to acquire some of the most exotic flowers in the world so I could study and enjoy them.
He walked up behind me, running his hand over my hair. “I am glad you found me and showed me the joys of living once more.”
I turned, gazing into his intelligent blue eyes.
Shortly after my return to the castle, Titus explained that he had been under a horrible curse, keeping him trapped inside the castle. The only way he could leave the castle was in his dragon form.
But my love had broken that curse and now he was free to walk hand in hand with me through the garden.
I got up and wrapped my arms around his neck. Getting on my tippy toes, I attempted to kiss him but he was much too tall.
He chuckled, leaning down and kissing my lips ever so softly.
The kiss continued until I was out of breath and my heart was beating fast. No matter how many times I kissed this man butterflies still fluttered around in my stomach any time our eyes locked or our lips came together.
“I love you…” I whispered, pressing my forehead against his, our noses nearly touching.
“I love you too, my precious Pearl.” He lifted me up with ease, spinning me around. “Shall I tell Jordon to bring the phonograph and play us some music?”
Jordan was the squire I had first met when I arrived at the castle. He lived with us but I very rarely saw him. He liked to keep to himself, building model figurines in the basement.
“That would be lovely…” I said, still trapped in his embrace.
In an instant, Jordon was by our side, rolling out the record player. He set it beside the table before scurrying off.
I chuckled. He was an odd little man.
Titus set me back on my feet before he played some music.
It was my favorite.
The melody reminded me of bird songs.
He held out his hand and I took it graciously.
Our bodies locked together like two puzzle pieces, our steps falling into perfect rhythm. The flowers around us blurred into one colorful backdrop as he twirled me around, bending me backward until my hair nearly touched the ground.
I giggled, springing back into his embrace, our faces nearly colliding.
As I looked into his eyes, I knew there was no place on Earth I rather be.
Sold To The Dragon Princes
~ Bonus Story ~
A Dragon Shifter Paranormal Menage Romance
Bronnen walks back to home from work one day, and notices a shifter staring at her. Although shifters have integrated into human society, there's been a lot of issues with them. She shortly discovers one of those issues when she's unceremoniously kidnapped, tossed into a vehicle, and wakes up stuck in a cage, with a bunch of other women in identical prisons.
Bronnen notices two things. All the women are pretty – and there's a line of shifters ready to come and inspect them, with the intent of buying them. Two shifters are drawn in by her beauty, and her personality. Two princes from distance clans, with the rare bloodline of dragon shifters. Two princes that start a bidding war to try and win her for their own. She has another idea on the cards, however...
* * *
Chapter One
Once, I was a normal woman doing normal things. You know. Go to work at a supermarket. Deal with shit from customers who think they know better than you when they know nothing. Sometimes masturbate in the bathroom when I'm bored out of my mind, using the bullet vibrator that's tucked away in my handbag. Occasionally resist snide glances and attempted gropes from the upper management, though get secretly pleased and flattered at the attention; and try to pretend I like my job. At times, it's a welcome distraction from home, when I've become recently single and live in a property I can barely make the rent on each month.
Them's the breaks, right? I have a love-hate relationship with my name, Bronnen McLaughlin. It's been carried through my family for generations, since the whole potato famine thing. The name suits me better as an adult than as a kid, so at twenty-four years of age, I don't get as many eyebrow raises as before.
On this perfectly normal day, when I'm walking back home through the park, pretty and green and full of dog walkers – I pass a few shifters, distinguishable by their wacky eye colors, eccentric clothing and dangling pendants from their necks which helps humans to identify their type – and I notice one of them pause and give me a really long stare.
Long enough to make me uncomfortable.
We've only just really tried integrating shifters into our society, but there has been problems cropping up around the place. Stories of women going missing. Fingers pointing towards shifters and their sometimes alien ways. It certainly conjures up a lot of hate from extremist groups, who think we should kick the shifters out and seal our borders to them. Though I'm willing to dismiss them as rumors, I can't help but feel nervous whenever one takes longer than they should to stare at me. I have some rather illicit fantasies about them, ones I'm ashamed to admit to listening ears – a fantasy I'm sure would turn out to be vastly different in reality. But the point of a fantasy is a safe zone to imagine the worst of our desires, right?
Certain features for the shifters in wome
n stand out, I suppose. Striking ones, like my red hair, and my ridiculously pale skin, when it's not erupting out in freckles. Seriously, those things explode on my face when spring starts, and persist throughout the summer like open sores.
Once I got far enough from the shifter, whose pendant I didn't examine closer enough to determine their animal, I let them slide out of mind, mind drifting to the meal I have in the fridge, ready to be microwaved, because I usually can't be bothered to cook once I come back and crash from a long day at work. I walk around everywhere since I sold my car to save on bills, but I do miss having the ability to just drive around at will.
It's when I'm about a block away from my apartment that the shit hits the fan.
Suddenly, a car pulls up on the road beside where I'm walking. Unfortunately, the shortcut I've taken to reach my apartment faster means that I have no one to watch as two men and a shifter leap out, seize me and clamp a hand over my mouth, and bundle me into the back seat. My former defence training goes out the window, before I struggle. I kick, squirm and attempt to scream like a banshee, but one of them switches their hand with a cloth, with the distinctive smell of chloroform on it.
It doesn't work fast. I continue writhing, tears springing to my eyes, terror pounding my heart, as blackness begins to ink at the corners of my vision, and I see a dot appear in the middle, before it expands out and sucks me into nothingness.
When I woke up, it took me several moments to adjust to my new surroundings. I found myself locked in a wooden cage with a crude padlock holding the door together. There's straw bedding underneath me, and a fucking water spout like the ones hamsters and rabbits drink in their cages, and a metal bowl of dried fruit.
Side by side to me are other women in similar situations, and when I get over my panic and indignation enough to examine them better, I see that all of them are astonishingly beautiful or stand out in their respective physiques.
There's a platinum blonde with a curvy figure, and broad shoulders. A dark haired, light skinned woman who looks as if she has Irish blood in her. An Asian with blue eyes. A heterochromia woman, one green, one brown. A dark skinned woman with blonde, puffy hair. So many types.
Realization and horror hits me when I see to the far left of us, a line of people. No. Shifters. There's a line of fucking shifters waiting behind a roped off entrance.
My God. We're being auctioned.
Desperately, I look around for any signs that I can recognize. Streets. Roads. What I do see instead is a rather lovely view of some mountains, though I don't exactly recognize said mountains, and a lot of trees and bushes. There's no signs of civilization, other than a dirt track road that trails on the other side of our cages, opposite the line of shifters.
Maybe those extremist groups had it right, after all. Shifters are stealing human women. And selling them off like we're back in the slave era.
Several of the women try to strike up nervous conversation, but I keep my mouth clamped shut, testing the strength of the cage I'm in. I've never missed a day of work yet, and I'm not happy at the prospect of getting fired – even if I might have a valid reason to not turn up. It's a shame I don't have my phone on me, since they snatched my handbag away, with all my identity and cards stuffed in it.
I give up on the cage, and simply sit, resigned. Part of me radiates disgust at the idea that I could find a situation like this arousing, but my cotton panties are ever so slightly damp. Possibly because of the shadow of danger, because I can't think why else I'm reacting like that.
Anyway, I'm trapped. Not quite defenceless, given my training. But I'm trapped, here to be ogled at by male shifters, all who may be lusting after my body, my delicate flesh, my crimson hair.
Some time later, though I'm not sure how long, the rope barrier is removed, and the shifters, about fifty of them to look at thirty women, now peer at us in our cages in interest – and a little lust.
I shudder. There's nothing really to wrap myself up here – I'm in my work clothes still, and whilst it was sunny back in North Carolina, it's chilly here. I don't recognize the mountains at all. I certainly don't feel secure in my position, and I'm genuinely scared right now that I'm going to turn into a sex slave and be sold off.
Before this, I've never even spoken to a shifter. I just know they're strange types with their own cultures and animals that they turn into, and they mostly prefer spots outside of human influence. Due to our nature to expand and colonize everything, like we did when we rushed into the new lands of the Americas and Australia, we encountered the shifters there. They were not happy at our invasion. The reason why they lost the wars was because there simply wasn't enough of them to deal with the massive influx of humans and their tech.
Now, it seems, they're getting back at us in other ways instead.
I scowl as The first of the shifters walks past me. I see a bear pendant on his chest, and he looks as shaggy as I would expect a bear shifter to be – broad chested, face full of fuzz and mean, glinting brown eyes. He crouches before me for a moment, before passing by, then pausing at the dark skinned woman with the blonde hair. He nods to himself and scribbles in a notepad – now I notice all of them have notepads.
Jesus, they're listing the ones they want to bid on, of course.
I catch other shifters as well. Panther, tiger, snow leopard, lion – a lot of feline species. I also catch the most popular shifter group, wolves – and polar bear.
Then there's one I don't recognize. I examine the pendant, but it's of some winged lion bird thing. Mythical shifters.
I've heard about those. Mythical shifters were supposed to be the rarest, because their forms were based on imagination, rather than living creatures.
Not that critically reflecting on this matter helps with my current standing of being a prisoner.
I scowl as the last of the shifters made their way through, before paling when I two of them sporting mythical creature pendants as well.
Dragons.
The dragons in question had green and amber eyes, and took far longer than the others upon examining my red tresses, pale skin, smoky green eyes and eruption of freckles. Both jot me down in their pads, and then both glare at each other.
“Are you serious?” One growls to the other. “Do I have to compete with you on everything?”
The dragon with the amber eyes smirks. “Deal with it, princeling whore.” His voice has a distinctive husky growl to it, as if he's building a fire in his throat. They continue their bickering argument as they go to the other cages, barely paying attention to the other women. My eyes immediately lock upon them with suspicion and hatred,and a grudging interest. They're not ugly. If anything, they're pretty fucking handsome.
Doesn't take away the fact that they're currently bickering over who might get to own me.
A few other shifters have paused to note me down as well, but I have a strong feeling that it's the dragons I'm going to be torn between.
I might not be able to stand this. I don't think I can handle being some shifter's chew toy, dammit. I have my own opinions, my own mind. I'm not a slave.
My body, however, seems to think I might like the idea more than expected. My cheeks flush. No. This is not the time and place to syat giving into my fantasies.
But according to the people who captured me and all these other women, we're little more than bargain bitches being sold off in an auction.
I'm not sure how long it takes before they finish examining each of the females, but then the auction starts in earnest. There's a stage beyond the rope barrier which they use to start the auction, and I notice the women are being taken out one by one, as they describe them as best as able, given that they know nothing about them other than their features, and subdue any who are acting out of order by jabbing them with a fucking cattle prod.
Holy shit.
Now, here's the thing. I was taken like an idiot, grabbed before I had the chance to react, overpowered before my muscles could snap into position to defend myself.
Right now though, there's nothing I can do, and it's frustrating me. Even if I bust out of the cage, I have no idea where I am, and no way to contact. I might die in the wilderness unless I steal a vehicle, and somehow avoid the shifters who will morph into their animal forms to hunt me down.
Even if I can physically outcombat any of them in normal forms, I have no chance in hell of overpowering fifty of those fuckers, along with the event organizers.
The realization doesn't fill me with confidence. I slump in my cage, not bothering to touch anything, and wait for my turn to come.
Bad, Very Bad Shifters- The Complete Mega Bundle Page 32
