Page 8 of Storm of Blood and Shadow (Merciless Dragons #3)

When I was with Lord Neran, I placed a barrier in my mind, created separation between the character I played for him and my true self—between my body’s actions and my aching soul.

With the dragon, I don’t create that separation—not within myself, or between us. The only barrier that exists tonight lies between us and rest of the world, dividing the dream we share from reality.

Within his cave, I am stripped bare, utterly revealed as the weary, needy, lonely, rejected wretch that I am, abandoned by the Queen who once praised me, forgotten by the suitors who courted me, treated as a coin purse by my family, emptied of everything that used to be me .

The last thing I expected was to rediscover a part of myself here, on this island. And yet, when I danced by the fire tonight, I felt the joy of dancing again. I sank into the movement, the music. I screamed through the lines of my body, sang with my steps, and spun the tale of my anguish and uncertainty with every pirouette.

He understood me. I saw it in his eyes, reptilian though they are, fiery and unfamiliar—he saw me, just like he did on the rooftop.

I press my body against him, not allowing myself to think of the differences—the huge muscles cloaked in smooth scales, the splayed forefeet and arched claws, the towering neck and immense jaws. I think only of pain and desire, two things we have in common.

His giant cock is pinned between my body and the scales of his belly. He’s panting heavily, entranced by the sensation of my bare skin against his sensitive length.

I could hurt him, here, where he isn’t shielded by scales. There’s a shard of rock not far away, with enough of an edge to do damage. And maybe I will grow so desperate that I decide to hurt him, after all. But not now.

Not until I’ve tried a new kind of persuasion and satisfied the urge we both feel.

Slipping both arms around his shaft is like hugging a slender tree clad in smooth skin instead of bark. I sink low, then rise, gliding my whole body against his length.

The dragon shudders and groans. “This isn’t right,” he says raggedly. “The mating season is the only time I’m supposed to feel like this.”

“Shall I stop touching you?” My voice is fractured, throaty, heavy with lust.

He lowers his muzzle and touches the top of my head, his warm breath stirring my hair and ghosting along my back. “Never stop.”

The song the other women played by the fire circles through my mind as I stroke the dragon, and before I know it I’m dancing with his cock—arching against it, sliding down it, hooking one leg around it so I can feel the heated thrum of his arousal against my clit.

He dips his head, nuzzling my shoulders and my back. When I lace both arms around his cock and arch backward, his tongue slips from between his jaws and slithers over my breasts, wet and warm. A gasp escapes me, and he pulls back; but when I say “Again,” breathlessly, he hums with pleased approval and bathes my breasts with his tongue once more.

For a second I wonder if he could lick himself to completion, but then I realize he’s straining a little as it is, just to touch my breasts with his tongue. The most he could manage would be licking the tip of his cock, which probably wouldn’t be very satisfying.

I swing around with my back to his belly scales and sit astride the base of his cock, where it emerges from the armored slit between his back legs. In this position, I can wrap part of his cock between my interlaced legs while my arms keep stroking the upper part of his length. An earth-shaking groan rumbles from him as I find a good rhythm and stroke his entire shaft mercilessly, wickedly, driving him toward climax.

He has no idea what to expect, no concept of the bliss he’s about to experience. Knowing that he’s so hungry for this, yet so innocent of sexual things—it’s incredibly arousing for me. The continuous rubbing of my bare, wet pussy against his cock sends little rushes of tingling heat through my body. I’m working myself closer to orgasm even as his groans intensify.

With every hugging stroke of my arms, his body tightens more, massive muscles rippling beneath his scaly hide. He sobs out a harsh sound, half cry and half snarl, then stretches his long neck toward the ceiling of the cave and roars as he comes.

The rocks quake from the force of his bellow, and his great cock grows hotter, pulsing between my legs as cum fountains from him. I’m tucked against his belly, so only a few drops land on me, while most of it jets onto the stone floor of the cave.

I come helplessly against his cock, arching my body so I can press my pussy more firmly to that huge, hard length. The sensation of my tiny parts throbbing against his giant, pulsating cock is the strangest, most perversely erotic thing I’ve ever felt or imagined.

The last bit of cum from his orgasm drips down from the head of his cock, sliding over my arms. When I finally dismount from the base of his dick, I’m soaked in my own sweat and his cum, shaky and utterly ruined… not to mention dazed by the knowledge of what I just did.

The dragon lowers himself to the floor and lies on his side, heaving great jagged breaths.

I crawl around the puddle of cum and make my way to his head. “You’re not dying, are you? Because then I’d have to wait for some other dragon to give me a ride back to the ground tomorrow, which would be terribly inconvenient.”

He laughs, still panting. I hate that I like the sound of his deep, rumbly dragon-laugh.

“I think I died and came back to life,” he confesses. “That felt like everything I’ve ever wanted. Everything I’ve hungered for.” He lifts his head and blinks amber eyes at me, sudden concern in his tone. “It seems selfish that I should feel such bliss, while you have none. What can I do to remedy this inequity?”

I stare at him for a moment, shocked that a concept which seems to elude so many human males came so easily to him, just seconds after his first orgasm.

“Is it possible for you to feel such pleasure, too?” he asks. “I believe female dragons enjoy bliss through coupling, but I do not know how it works for humans.”

“We can feel similar pleasure,” I say. “By our own touch, or that of a partner.”

“If you teach me to please you, I will do it gladly.” He bumps my cheek lightly with his tapered muzzle. “Tell me what to do.”

His tongue quivers against my neck, and I sigh involuntarily at the tantalizing touch.

“You enjoy this,” he murmurs, licking me again. His tongue traces around one of my breasts, then moves down to my stomach. Instinctively I lie down, yielding, opening my thighs, silently inviting him to taste me.

“The scent I love so much,” says the dragon. “It comes from here.” His tongue flickers between my legs.

I don’t explain what I want in words. I can’t bring myself to say it aloud, to confess that I want a dragon’s tongue on me, inside me. So I teach him by touching myself, by playing with my clit while he watches. He learns quickly, the tips of his forked tongue replacing my fingers, teasing my clit until my eyes are shut tight and I’m squirming in suspended bliss. I reach down and pull back the lips of my sex, showing him my opening, inviting him silently.

His tongue glides inside, questing, writhing. My fingers rub my clit frantically while he tongue-fucks me, my knees arched on either side of his muzzle. When I come around his tongue, he hums with startled delight, and when he pulls out, he licks up every bit of my arousal—licks it so thoroughly, swiftly, and enthusiastically that I come a third time, with a gasping squeal and a hot flush of wild bliss, made more intense by the very real fear that the dragon will think I’m a little too tasty and decide to actually eat me.

I drag myself backward, away from his damp muzzle and those intense amber eyes.

“I already came once, while I was stroking you,” I confess breathlessly. “And twice more now. That’s the most I can manage. I need to rest.”

The dragon licks his lips. “But you taste so fucking good.”

“You can taste me again later, as long as you don’t bite me or hurt me.”

His brow ridges contract, almost a frown. “I would never harm you.”

“Says the dragon who killed many humans during the war.”

He recoils, lifting his head defiantly. “That was different. The war is over. You are not an enemy soldier.”

“Just a prisoner of war,” I reply.

“And my future mate, the mother of my hatchlings.”

With those words, reality crashes back in, shattering the barrier I built, rushing into our haven like a cold wind.

What have I done?

I’ve encouraged him and given him hope. I should never have allowed that kind of intimacy between us. He doesn’t know what I do—that my body isn’t able to carry his offspring or anyone else’s. Even if by some magic I was transformed into a dragon, I might still be infertile. And while I’ve had time to come to terms with that reality, it would be a terrible disappointment for Varex.

It was cruel of me to play with him, a virginal dragon whose species’ survival depends on his brother’s dubious plan.

Perhaps that is the weakness I should exploit—his loyalty to his brother. I need to show him the flaws in Kyreagan’s scheme.

Getting to my feet as gracefully as I can, I walk over to the makeshift bed he prepared and drape myself across the coarse material of the blue flag.

“You seem to like my body the way it is.” I let my fingers trail up my thigh, along my waist and my side, all the way up to my breast. “You seem to prefer human bodies in general. Are you sure you want me to change permanently into a dragon, Varex?”

His eyes narrow, and he huffs loudly, like the thought disturbs him.

“Well, do you?” I persist.

“I have no choice in the matter.”

“Of course you do. Does your brother even know anyone who can perform such a spell? It doesn’t seem possible. What if no magic can achieve your brother’s goal? Will you let me go then?”

He looks away, toward the dark mouth of the cave.

“You will,” I say softly. “Because you’re kind. You made this bed for me, placed these flowers for me. And the jewelry—is that for me, too?”

His head swivels back toward me, his eyes brightening. “Yes. Do you like it?”

I swallow hard, knowing at a glance that the four necklaces laid on the stone could buy my family a decent home in the city.

“You’re very generous,” I tell him. “I feel silly for trying to bribe you with the gold coins from my bag.” Realization sends a blaze of fear through me. “My bag! I left it in the cavern. What if someone takes my gold? My family needs those coins.” I get up and grab my dress, holding it against myself.

“I’ll fetch the bag for you,” Varex assures me.

“You shouldn’t, not now.” I press one hand to my forehead, striving for clear thought despite my weariness and panic. “The women might be sleeping, and your arrival might scare them.”

“I’ll be as quiet and gentle as I can. Besides, I should check on them anyway, and ensure that they are safe and well-guarded for the night.”

The way he says “quiet and gentle” piques me a little. For some reason it conjures the image of him licking another woman the way he licked me, savoring her arousal the way he savored mine.

I can’t bear the thought.

“Don’t taste any of them,” I say sharply.

Varex hesitates, poised in the mouth of the cave, the light of the heated stones gleaming on his dark scales. He’s graceful, powerful, beautiful… and much too charming, as I realize when he says, in his smoothest, richest tones, “Yours is the only flavor I crave.”

My mouth goes dry, and I can’t respond.

“Do you need me to bring back anything besides your bag?” he asks.

“Some water,” I croak.

“Of course.” His gaze drops to the pool of cum on the floor.

“I’m not drinking that .”

He chuckles. “I was only thinking I should clean it up. We dragons try to keep our caves in good order. At least, most of us do. Stand back.”

I retreat a few steps, and he aims a crackling blast of purple lighting at the puddle. It vanishes with a sizzle, leaving a blackened scar on the stone. There must have been a little void magic blended with it. A chill passes over my skin as I realize afresh how powerful he is.

Varex cocks his head. “Imperfect, but it will do. I will return shortly.”

He plunges from the edge of the cliff and wings away into the night. I curl up on the grass mattress on top of the flag, using my dress as a blanket, and I wait for him.

A soft, pulsating thrill stirs in my belly. Something thick and slippery is stroking between my legs, gliding wetly over my clit. I moan softly and move my thighs apart so I can feel that slick, huge tongue better…

My eyes fly open. I must have tossed away the dress in my sleep—I’m lying naked on the bed. The black dragon’s face hovers between my legs while his tongue slides through my wet folds.

“What are you doing?” I exclaim.

“You said I could taste you again later.” He returns to licking me enthusiastically.

“Shit…” It feels so good that I relax in spite of my surprise. “That’s not exactly what I… mmm… if I’m sleeping you should really… you shouldn’t… oh god, that feels amazing…”

I’m no better than the other girl, the one who lives in the blue dragon’s cave. Apparently I’m just as vulnerable to dragon tongue as she is.

Or maybe I’ve spent so many years being bright, being strong, maintaining my place in the troupe, supporting the people I care about, that when it’s finally all gone, it’s a relief. Being taken care of like this feels like a luxury, even though I’m lying on a flag, on a pile of grass, in a dragon’s cave.

It’s not such a bad place, after all. The rocks he heated radiate a warm golden glow, and the air smells floral and fragrant from the hundreds of spring blooms the dragon piled along the edges of the cave. I don’t know how long he spent collecting the flowers. No wonder he seemed exhausted when he came to dinner.

Back home, my bed is a narrow couch in the living area, so that everyone else can have a decent place to sleep. I never told anyone in the troupe how my living conditions had declined. I didn’t explain why I never invited them over to my suite anymore. The seventeen months of the war provided a good excuse, of course, but truthfully, I lost my fine rooms long before that.

Anxiety about the children creeps into my mind. Are they fed? Are they safe? Does Lark have enough sense not to steal from the wrong person? Will Ethalie have the strength to carry her little ones through this time of turmoil? Will their father finally do something useful? Will Bryon learn to protect the family instead of exacerbating everyone’s worst qualities?

I realize that my eyelids are scrunched tight, my limbs locked with tension. Opening my eyes again, I consciously relax and watch Varex’s graceful snout, the glint of his teeth, and the swipes of his glistening tongue. His lashes are long, a thick fringe to protect his eyes when he’s flying. He blinks, his gaze lifting to mine. His eyes are such a deep, rich, luminous orange, so clear and lovely that I can barely breathe. Deep at the center of his vertical pupils is a faint purple glow, a hint of the lightning that encases his void magic.

Whatever he sees in my eyes must please him, because he says, “Darling,” and pauses the coaxing of his tongue to nuzzle the center of my chest. I lift both arms and hold his face, my hands gliding along his glossy scales.

“Don’t call me that,” I whisper. “I’m not your darling.”

Varex chuckles and lowers his muzzle between my thighs again. “Darling.” His tongue slithers over my clit, and I lift my hips impulsively.

“Darling,” he says again, before burying that naughty, slippery tongue in my body. He tastes me deep, deep, so deep my eyes roll back, and then he withdraws his tongue to say, “You need a constant rhythm, yes? Like the rhythm with which you stroked me.”

“Yes,” I breathe, and he begins tongue-fucking me, gleeful and merciless, thrusting in, withdrawing for a quick lash of his tongue across my clit, then entering again. The constant rapid stimulation drives me swiftly to the maddening edge, until I’m muffling my own screams, one hand clamped over my mouth. My other hand finds one of his curved front claws and grips it, anchoring myself while I twist and strain and fight for the orgasm. His tongue thrusts and darts faster over my pussy, demanding my pleasure.

When the climax finally comes, it’s worth the heat and the struggle, worth every sobbing gasp, worth the swollen sensitivity of my flesh. A surge of my wetness bathes the dragon’s muzzle, and he relishes it all.

“I’m done now,” I whimper, turning over on my belly. “No more tonight, please.”

He gives my ass one final lick. “If that is what you wish. But… may I rub my cock against your back? Would that displease you?”

I reach up and move all my tangled hair out of the way, leaving my entire back bare to him. “You may, as long as you promise to take me down to the cavern early in the morning so I can bathe.”

“I will.”

“Then do whatever you like to me.” I sigh, fully sated for the first time in ages.

Feeling the heat and bulk of the dragon settling over me is momentarily frightening, but he’s slimmer than many of the others, not quite so threatening in his size. I feel the hot, smooth length of his cock press against my thighs, my bottom, my spine. He shifts back and forth, humping me like a dog in heat, his cock sliding firmly along my skin.

Unbelievably, I’m enjoying the sensation. Sometimes after an especially good performance, our troupe leader would take us all to a massage parlor to have our muscles thumped, heated, and pounded. I always felt wonderfully relaxed afterward. The rhythmic movement of the dragon’s cock along my back is different, but it’s similarly relaxing. His arousal slicks my skin, lubricating the glide of his length.

“Don’t come in my hair,” I murmur.

“Come?” he asks.

“When you come, you experience that sharp, sudden pleasure, and you release liquid, like before.”

“You mean my seed,” he says.

“Yes. It’s also called ‘cum.’ When you come, you release cum.” I hardly know what I’m saying… I’m far too relaxed and much too sleepy.

“I wish I could come inside you,” he murmurs. He keeps rubbing against my back while his breaths grow rougher, heavier. “I think it’s going to happen. Fuck…” He shoves his length along my spine once more, then springs off me. I hear the splatter of his release hit the rock wall, and I listen to his thick groans as he returns to me, comforting his softening length against my warm skin.

After a few minutes he tells me he brought water in a clay pot from the lower caverns. He retrieves it from where he left it, near the mouth of the cave, and I drag myself to the edge of the bed to drink some of it before crawling back to my warm hollow. Varex settles in carefully beside me, folding his huge frame around my small one. With his teeth, he drags part of the flag over my body to cover me.

“Rest well, darling,” he breathes into the gloom.