About a Dragon
“Perhaps I can show you how easy it is to be nice.”
Slowly his eyes lifted to look at her face. “Oh, I think I’d like that,” he breathed out huskily.
She pulled from his grasp, raising herself on her knees while he leaned back, his hands flat on the bed, propping him up.
Turning, she moved to his side and placed her hand on his chest. She stroked the hard, smooth skin and marveled at how her merest touch caused ripples across his body. And that was only with her hand.
Leaning forward, she used the tip of her tongue to tickle one nipple. He let out a harsh gasp, followed by a moan when she suckled him into her mouth. She slid her mouth to the other side and did the same. He shuddered and moaned again, making Talaith smile.
Who knew she had this kind of power?
Talaith dragged her hand down his chest and her lips and tongue followed. Before she even reached his straining erection, he’d lifted his hips as if expecting her to take him in her mouth. Her arrogant dragon.
Instead, she licked it from base to tip and back again. Then she followed the pulsating veins, avoiding the head except to occasionally tickle it with her nose.
“Talaith,” he groaned.
“Aye?” Her tongue slithered up the underside of his shaft.
“Don’t torture me, woman.”
“Torture you? Me? The weak human torturing a dragon of such awesome power and intellect?”
He grinned at her teasing. “Yes, evil witch. You’re torturing me. At least have the decency to admit it.”
“I’ll admit nothing.”
“So I noticed,” he muttered while he watched her every move.
She ignored his comment, unwilling to ruin the good mood with the reality of her situation. She had no idea how long before the goddess came for her, and she didn’t want to waste a second thinking about anything but him and how he made her feel.
Talaith wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft, marveling at its length and width while enjoying the taste of it, of him. She licked fluid off the tip, teasing the slit with the tip of her tongue, forcing another broken moan from him.
His hand slid into her hair, massaging the back of her head with his long fingers. “Talaith…”
“Mhmm?”
He growled and she fought her desire to laugh.
“Stop teasing me, wench. You’re being heartless.”
“I find using the word ‘please’ quite effective at these moments.” She nipped the base and his body jerked in response. “Begging would be even better.”
When he didn’t answer, she glanced up to find him gazing off, frowning.
Leaning back a bit, she stared at him. “Gods, you’ve never said please, have you?”
“I’m thinking.” He was silent for a few more seconds, then… “No. I never have.” He looked down at her, one eyebrow raised. “And I don’t plan to start now.”
Anyone else—king or peasant, husband or child—she’d feel insulted. Yet she wasn’t because she knew he wasn’t being cruel or cold-hearted. Just a dragon who never had to say “please” and “sorry” before. And if she thought for one moment she would end up spending the rest of her life with him, she’d have some real concerns.
Since that wouldn’t happen, as he’d reminded her the day before, she wouldn’t worry.
“That’s a real shame, dragon.” She ran her tongue across the tip, blew on the wetness she left behind. “Because without it…” Her open mouth hovered over his shaft for several seconds and she heard him swallow in desperation, anticipating her sucking him into his next life. Instead of doing that, she snapped her mouth shut. “I can’t help you.”
“You evil—”
“Ah, ah, ah. You be nice.”
Snarling, his hand still tangled in her hair, he pulled her close then pushed her onto her back. He lay across her, his mouth claiming hers.
Wicked, wicked thoughts flowed through her brain while Briec’s hands moved across her body, his tongue thrusting against hers.
She moaned and writhed under him, and he pulled back just enough to say, “We both know I can make you beg long before me, sweet Talaith.”
“My, my, we are…” she arched into his body as one of his hands slid between her thighs, “…sure of ourselves.”
“It’s a gift.”
“A gift for you. A curse for the rest of us.”
He smiled as he teased her hard nipple with his tongue. Digging her hands into his hair, she silently urged him to take it into his mouth, but he only chuckled, opting to blow on it instead.
Bastard.
Before she could tell him that sentiment out loud, a movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned her head and Gwenvael, in dragon form, his hair soaked as if he’d been outside in the rain again, lay there. His head rested in the palm of his claw and when she looked at him he bared his fangs—a dragon smile.
She squealed so loud, Briec’s whole body jumped. Then, using the buried strength of her people, she shoved the big male off her, scrambling away from him so fast she toppled right off the bed and onto the hard ground. Thankfully out of Gwenvael’s view.
She grabbed one of the furs piled on the floor and wrapped it around her body, making sure to cover her head completely.
* * *
Éibhear, so deeply absorbed in the third volume on his grandfather’s life when a very young dragon—Darkness’ Bones, that dragon was a slag—he didn’t realize Gwenvael had left the room until he returned with an extremely calm Briec. A little too calm, in fact.