Dragon Call (12 page)

Her whole body quivered, muscles tense and
wary and trembling with need all at once. The teeth at her throat
gave her pause, and she squeezed her eyes shut while squeezing her
fingers around his shaft. Anticipation held her still, her heart
racing toward escape velocity. This was dominance and submission,
and she knew it. He had her by the throat, and that gave him all
the power in the world.

Salim responded the minute she made the
realization; his soft growl sounded like approval to her ears. He
rubbed the whole of his hand between her legs, squeezing denim and
satin and delicate flesh, and he didn’t let go. He used his grip on
her neck and her pussy to hold her. She felt like a caught kitten,
helpless to move.

The dragon was trapped between them. It
vibrated with excitement. She saw herself again, spread out on her
back and held down, and it excited instead of sickened her now.
Salim’s cock twitched in her hand, thrusting a new spear of arousal
into her core.

He used his body to walk her backward. The
rubber soles of her sneakers squeaked on the waxed wood floor, and
a pulse in her abdomen fluttered with want of him, with desire to
be spread open and filled. Dreamily, she watched the ceiling reel
past as Salim bore her backward into Diane’s empty bedroom. He bit
her throat, pulling skin taut and making her stomach clench in a
heady blend of fear and curiosity – would he bite until blood
welled into his mouth, or leave her skin unbroken?

She didn’t bleed. He sucked hard nips down
her throat, pausing to open his mouth wide over her pulse. Every
time his mouth pulled on her skin, he squeezed her mound. She
groaned, grinding her crotch against his hand, weak-kneed and ready
to come. Before she could build to that crescendo, he lifted his
head, moved his hand to her hip and spun her around to push her
onto the bed. She knelt amidst a luscious, red expanse of tangled
satin sin and the big dark man behind her, with his hand spread
across her stomach, beneath her sweater and climbing to squeeze her
breast, was going to fuck her until she screamed into the red
pillows. She couldn’t wait, tore at the hem of her sweater to
wrestle it up and over her head.

There were questions to be asked, but she
couldn’t remember what they were. Salim bit her shoulder, bumped
his erection up against her ass, between her thighs from behind. He
explored the curve between her shoulder and her ear, and she slid
her fingers down over her own fly and groped until she found the
head of his cock. He groaned into her ear, rocked forward to plant
himself in her hand.

“This,” he rasped, his breath harsh and
erratic as he gripped both her breasts and rolled the hard nipples
between his fingers, “is how you talk to it. You
want
it.
It’s the only thing in the world you receive by wanting strong
enough.”

He squeezed her breasts one last time, and
they swung heavily when he released them to reach for the snap of
her jeans. He moved and bucked free of her hand, pushed jeans and
panties down past the swell of her hips and over her thighs.

“That doesn’t make any sense.” But she didn’t
care. She could see herself, with Salim behind her, reflected in
the mirror on the back of the closet door. Her body was round and
pale and smooth, every inch, except the glistening slit between her
thighs. She watched in panting fascination as Salim’s fingers
returned to her stomach, as he traced the gleam of wetness with a
single fingertip.

“It’s not supposed to,” he murmured, flicking
his fingertip across the tight bell of her clitoris.

Her breath lurched and wheezed, and her head
lolled against his chest. She couldn’t bear to watch it, his hand
roaming her groin. She met his eyes in the mirror and flushed. He
was watching her examine herself, all the while petting her
slippery lips. Cora shifted restlessly. Where was her hard,
mindless fucking now? The pace had changed, and she wasn’t sure
what to do about it. Scarlet fluttered at her waist, the dragon
scarf spilling down to obscure the obscene color of her desire. She
held Salim’s hand still, angled her head to see his face, but he
swooped to kiss her again.

Right became left and up down when he stole
her breath with his lips. Salim turned her and satin slid against
the backs of her thighs, beneath her shoulders as she tumbled
backward into the sheets. One by one Salim lifted her feet, popped
her sneakers off and let them drop to the floor. Her stomach, soft
when she was upright, flattened and hollowed as she stretched
across the bed. She was embarrassed by the way gravity pulled her
breasts and sought to cover them while Salim pulled her jeans down
over her feet and tossed them aside to join her sneakers.

Suddenly, he was on the bed with her, hands
and knees straddling her. Her toes grazed the floor, feet still
hanging over the edge of the bed. Salim crawled up and touched her
wrists. “Stop thinking,” he instructed and fanned her arms away
from her chest.

She glanced down, past the swell of her
breasts, nipples soft and pink and pale, past the hill of her
ribcage, and saw that he still jutted from the fly of his jeans.
She curled her fingers close, remembering the weight of him in her
hand, and dug the back of her head down into the comforter.

He wanted her to stop thinking, and she
wanted him to stop stalling. She squirmed, slipping easily on
satin, until she got her feet up onto the edge of the mattress and
lifted her hips to bump his cock. She watched, fascinated, as his
hardness bobbed above her. “I’m not thinking,” she promised.

And she wasn’t. Too much had led her to the
precipice of saturation. Too much anxiety, too much confusion, too
much frustrated arousal, too much time awake without sleep, too
much time alone without sex. Everything would right itself here and
now. Cora almost started crying when Salim leaned down and licked
the soft, flaccid center of her nipple. His ponytail fell to fan
into her armpit, a sensual rather than ticklish touch.

Propped on his forearms, caressing the
outermost curves of her breasts, his lips pulled at her nipple
patiently. She was rewarded by his weight when she finally
responded to his mouth, when the peak stiffened. Every nerve ending
across her chest tingled; she felt her ignored nipple respond to
its twin’s treatment as her breasts swelled to a firm, begging
roundness. Salim stroked up the hollows of her armpits, up tender
triceps, from her elbows to her wrists and held her hands down
while he worshipped her body.

She didn’t even notice when he untied the red
scarf, not until the ends trailed past her ear, not until he
wrapped it around his fingers and reached between her thighs.

Chapter Twelve

Cora’s eyes flew open, searching for
explanation in Salim’s face. He hung back, watching her while he
drew a silk circle around her entrance. She shuddered, pressed her
hips into the bed, wanting him to go on more than she wanted him to
stop.

“I’m going to take it back,” he explained,
voice low and thick with sex, “but it’s still yours. The way you
have it now, it’s only half a thing. I want you to know the whole
thing.”

“I’m not choosing you.” Her own voice was too
harsh, too vehement; her body too invested in his to present a
united front.

For his part, he smiled. “You don’t have
to.”

He moved away and, leaving the splash of red
to nestle into the dip of her navel, divested himself of his
clothing. Cora didn’t bother covering herself; her arms remained
outstretched where he’d placed them. She relished her own open
vulnerability, wanted to wallow in the intensity of feeling so
irrevocably feminine. She only briefly considered pressing her
thighs together to disguise her own scent, unmasked by soap or
perfume. In the end, she decided he wasn’t a man for perfume and
splayed her thighs wider, until she could feel cool air stirring
against her sodden heat.

When he was naked and kneeling on the bed
again, between pale thighs, he finished freeing the dragon from its
binding. Cora held her breath, watching the change in him.
Everything—
everything
—became bigger, more powerful, more
commandingly
present
. He was beautiful on his own with
desert-dusky skin, dark body hair lending a fine shadow to his
limbs. When the dragon returned to him, though, he became more than
beautiful. It was like watching the earth suck up rainfall after a
drought. Her mouth went dry.

“I’m not choosing you,” she whispered. “I
didn’t
call
you—didn’t try to steal from you.”

His mouth came down on her stomach, kissing
and nipping as he cupped the backs of her thighs and raised her
knees until her feet came to the mattress. “Haven’t you figured it
out?” he asked against her skin.

He used his thumbs to open her up, to stretch
the edges of her core, and when his tongue delved inside, she
forgot the question. She wouldn’t have been able to answer it
anyway. His tongue seemed to go forever; he tasted pleasure spots
that made her ears and toes tingle. She saw stars, and then she saw
the dragon.

Salim didn’t change, nothing beyond subtle
physical shifts. The dragon emerged behind him like some manner of
guardian. She clutched her breasts, stiff peaks pressing into her
palms, unsure why she sought to cover herself. The dragon reached
for her, and her whole body jerked. It was like being touched by a
thunderstorm, sent her nerves into electric spasms and made her
blood boom in her ears. Salim’s fingers slid easily, deeply into
her heat, curled and scissored against the knot nestled up in its
secret place. He touched his tongue to her clitoris and thrust his
fingers, wetly pistoning. Her back bowed, and she thought she would
come off the bed.

Cora clutched handfuls of satin and prayed
that she wouldn’t go up in smoke. She couldn’t hold her body still
anymore. Distantly, she knew the bedsprings were creaking and the
movement was all her, but immediately she was far more concerned
with the dragon and the man. She twisted wildly beneath Salim,
thrusting her pussy against his face. She reached not for him, but
for the dragon.

Salim rose up and came down between her legs
to fill her. She gasped. It felt like the first breath she’d taken
in hours, filling her lungs and rejuvenating her ravaged nerves.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hitched her thighs up
high around his hips, and let Salim fuck her while the dragon’s
talons drew through her hair, while it held her gaze and swallowed
her up in blazing eyes.

The man pounded the forgiving softness of her
body, bit her shoulder and her bicep and her breast. The dragon
soothed her, stroked the teeth-bruises away as soon as they
appeared. Dimly, she realized they were about balance; the dragon
allowed Salim savagery, and Salim allowed the dragon
tenderness.

Understanding confused her. Her body
continued to respond, meeting Salim thrust for thrust. He came, and
she felt every twitch of his cock spending itself. She shuddered
with him, a pleasure so intense it numbed her skin. She strained to
hold both Salim and the dragon at once. As Salim softened, the
dragon returned to him. He slumped panting between her breasts. His
hair had come loose and lay tangled across her shoulders, the crown
of his head nestled beneath her chin.

Dark had fallen outside, an entire day lost
in the recesses of Diane’s bed. Cora watched the moon behind the
jagged skyline, stroking Salim’s back from shoulder to hip and back
again. She was angry with herself. Physically, she’d been there
with Salim until the very end, and tiny deep muscles continued to
throb with aftershocks. Mentally, however, she’d allowed herself to
be distracted by the puzzle of the dragon. She wanted to apologize
for her distraction, but firmly made apologies off limits.

“Tell me the dragon’s name,” she said,
instead of apologizing.

“When he was younger and still part of
legend, his subjects called him
Da’ar Es Saleem
. He was the
father and the protector.” Salim lifted his head, kissed her
breast, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Rolling onto her
side, Cora watched him dispose of a condom. She didn’t recall him
donning one in the first place, but was silently grateful that he,
at least, hadn’t been stupid with lust.

“Stay here,” he said and rose from the bed.
He left the room, still naked. Cora watched him leave. His
testicles were a shadow between his thighs, reminding her of their
joining all over again.

Straightening herself on the bed so her feet
weren’t hanging off, she rolled onto her side and hugged her cheek
into a pillow. Sleep pulled at her eyelids; she didn’t have the
energy to worry about nightmares. Salim would return soon, anyway,
and wake her before any of her monsters had the time to get too
worked up. Reassured by his presence, she stretched deep under the
comforter and curled her toes into the welcoming warmth.

“Who are you calling?”

Salim’s voice jolted her awake but she didn’t
want to wake up. She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m sleeping,” she
mumbled. “Let me sleep.”

Hands pushed on her shoulders; Cora shrugged
the touch away. “Just a little while.”

“You can sleep or you can make a call, but
you can’t do both.” Salim tugged on her wrist. Cora pulled away
from him, balling her hand into a fist. Salim didn’t relent. She
whimpered when he pinched the tender place between her thumb and
forefinger. “Let go, Cora.”

Angry that he’d hurt her, Cora bolted upright
and wrenched her hand from his grasp. “I said leave me alone!”

Salim let her go. He leaned to put the
telephone receiver back on the receiver. Diane had an old-fashioned
rotary phone; the bell inside chimed as Salim accidentally rattled
it. “Who were you trying to call?” he asked, twisting on the bed to
face her.