About a Dragon
He took hold of her hand and brought it to his lips. “I’ll leave you, little witch.”
“Thank you—”
“For now.”
Talaith bit her lip as Briec slipped her index finger into his mouth. His tongue swirled around the tip before gently sucking. His eyes stayed on Talaith’s, unwilling to let her go.
Her sex went dripping wet, her strong legs went weak. Another minute of this exquisite torture and she’d be flat on her back without another word.
All I wanted to do was take a bath. Now all she wanted to do was wrap herself around Briec the Arrogant like a jungle snake.
Using the same control she possessed to slow her heart rate and calm her breathing, Talaith pulled away from the dragon. “Well, that was…interesting.” She took a step back. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”
Briec nodded, turned, and began to walk away. Stopped abruptly. Sniffed the air. Looked back at her with a grin. Then he walked off.
She glared at his retreating form and thought about all the wonderful ways she could eviscerate the beast.
* * *
Moving silently so as not to wake the sleeping Talaith, Briec lay down outside the cavern Gwenvael gave her for a room. It had an enormous bed. A table and chairs of the finest wood. A pitfire built right into one wall. It was nice and he’d give almost anything to share that bed with Talaith. But she still resisted him. He had no idea why. She wanted him. He knew it. She knew it.
They could be spending the entire night making each other very happy until they both passed out from the pleasure of it. Instead, she fought him. Fought him and herself as far as he was concerned.
Yet what truly baffled him? What would most likely keep him up for the entire night…why he cared? And why he enjoyed her fight so very much?
She sighed in her sleep and he crossed his eyes at the images that gave his delirious brain. Of her under him, sighing like that when he made her come, and come…
Stop, Briec. You’re only torturing yourself. Painfully so.
Briec rested his dragon head on his arms and prayed for dawn. Dawn would bring the suns and his way out of this nightmare. Because, he knew, once he got his lovely, sweet Talaith back to his den, she’d be all his.
Chapter Seven
“Where the hell are the suns?”
Talaith’s head snapped up from her book at Briec’s angry shout somewhere off in the cave.
Gwenvael, who’d fallen asleep at the table, jerked awake, screaming, “I never touched her!”
Éibhear sighed in disgust. “You never fail to embarrass me.” He placed a bowl of hot porridge in front of Talaith. Where he learned to cook, she’d never know, but she appreciated it. He even made normally boring porridge delicious.
Gwenvael glared down at the bowl of porridge thrown in front of him. “Porridge? You want me to eat porridge?” He looked up at Éibhear. “Has your mind slipped since last night? Where’s that horse I found the other day?”
Talaith, unable to hide her shock and not really wanting to, stared at Gwenvael in horror.
Éibhear cleared his throat and glared at his brother. “The horse, idiot brother o’ mine, is safe and alive somewhere else.”
“Come on, Talaith,” Gwenvael implored. “You don’t mind if we eat—”
“Yes. As a matter of fact, I do mind.”
He gave her what must be his best “imploring” face. “But, Talaith…my love.”
“Gwenvael…” she mimicked back to him, “…my pain.”
Éibhear laughed hard as Briec entered the chamber wearing only black breeches and boots. Does he have to look so…tasty? He sat in one of the chairs across from Talaith, threw his feet up on the table, pushed his porridge away and grabbed a piece of fruit. All while glaring at her.
She stared back, then said, “What are you looking at?”
He motioned to the ceiling with his hand. “Are you responsible for this?”
She glanced up at the rocky ceiling. It was actually kind of pretty with its sparkly shards hanging down. Of course, then she thought about those dropping on her head and suddenly they looked like dangerous blades. Shaking off the scary image, Talaith looked back at a still glaring Briec. “I didn’t do anything to the ceiling.”
“Not the ceiling,” he barked at her. “The weather.”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Has being around dragons given me some kind of god-like status I am not aware of?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Éibhear bend his head over his porridge, desperately shoveling it into his mouth while Gwenvael simply laughed out loud.
Briec ignored his brothers and pointed an accusing finger at her. “You are the witch.”
“An untrained one, as you so eloquently pointed out. Besides, why would I play with the weather and risk angering the gods?” Like she didn’t have enough of that to worry about in general.
“Perhaps because you don’t want to leave. You seem so comfortable with my brothers, little witch.”
She leaned forward, ridiculously angry and loving every minute of it. For some strange reason, she felt completely safe arguing with this dragon—odd. “Because your brothers haven’t been pawing me or trying to see me naked.”
Gwenvael shrugged his massive shoulders. “Actually—”
Annoyed with the very sound of his voice, Talaith grabbed one of the fruits from the bowl near her plate and threw it. Her aim, as always, unerring. The large, round and juicy fruit slammed into Gwenvael’s head with unrelenting force.