DragonMate (5 page)

Jazzlyn’s stomach did a little flip-flop as she realized that without making a conscious decision, she was driving toward her apartment, where she and Kirill would be alone in a room with a huge bed in it.

Her palms grew damp against the steering wheel. For all her tough talk about grabbing this opportunity and having no regrets afterward, her courage threatened to desert her.

She could suggest they get something to eat or drink and go to the beach. They could claim a bench or walk. This time of the day there’d still be children there, a major deterrent to forgetting herself—not that she’d ever been bold enough to experiment with sex in public places.

Jazzlyn shivered. With Kirill she could imagine sex just about anywhere. There was something about being the focus of his attention that shattered barriers she’d never intentionally erected in the first place.

He made her feel totally feminine and exquisitely desirable, not awkward and shy and self-conscious. Was it foolish to want to bask in the heat he generated?

She smiled, remembering his saying he could see himself taking her on a bed of gold and gems, luxuriating at having her beneath him like a dragon with its most treasured possession. If she was honest with herself, something she always tried to be, she loved the idea of belonging to a man in the way she thought it would be to belong to him. It was a completely unfeminist thought, but there it was.

The miles passed without her suggesting they wait for the call somewhere other than her apartment. She was afraid to start talking for fear of babbling.

By some miracle she managed to park and lead him to her door without trembling like a nervous virgin on a first date. She even managed to usher him inside without dropping her keys, though as the door closed behind them, she sagged against it, heart beating wildly in her throat.

She tried to see through his eyes—the organized clutter of her workspace, the glitter of stones on almost every surface—but he filled the studio apartment with his presence, dwarfed everything but the bed. The sight of it made heat coil in her belly and spread downward until her cunt lips were flushed and swollen and aching for his kiss.

Kirill made a sound resembling a deep rumbling purr. He turned, trapping her against the door with his body. His scent and heat swirled around her, and it was like being embraced by sensual fire.

“With all your gems, you’re very dragonish yourself,” he teased, rubbing his cheek against hers.

“They’re for my work. I’m a jewelry maker.”

“Perfect,” he said, brushing his lips against hers. “I’m a jewelry collector.”

Of their own accord her hands lifted and settled on his chest, her palms over tiny hardened nipples. His eyes darkened at her touch, and the fast beat of his heart raced in time with hers.

Part of her couldn’t believe she was here with him like this. He was still a stranger to her, despite the mirror and the heartmate stones and the help he’d given her in the hunt for Caro. But the larger part of her refused to listen to logic or be swayed by the dictates of restraint. That part of her wanted to be swept away by passion, whispered convincingly that this was the perfect time, the perfect place, the perfect man.

Her fingertips glanced over the firm points of his nipples and a thrill of feminine pleasure spiked through her as she watched what her touch did to him. Lust blazed in his eyes, hot and fierce and possessive. His body grew harder, the muscles taut, as though it took all his willpower not to push her to the floor and mount her.

Images of being on her hands and knees and having him cover her sent arousal gushing from her slit. A shudder moved through her when man morphed into dragon in her thoughts.

She shook her head to dispel the wayward pictures, felt heat rush to her cheeks in the wake of such a kinky erotic fantasy. Too much talk of dragons, she told herself as Kirill touched his mouth to hers, his tongue piercing the seam of her lips to tangle with hers.

Wicked flames licked over her with each slide of his tongue against hers. Need built, making it impossible to remain still. Her lower body pressed to his, her pelvis rubbing against his hardened penis in a sinuous dance while her fingers plucked and tormented his nipples.

She wanted him. No, it was more than want. It was a need so deep it sprang from her core, as if having him inside her was essential to her survival.

Her lips clung desperately to his. Her tongue yielded to his, promising submission, begging for him to mimic the thrust and retreat with his cock.

Kirill panted. If he didn’t have her soon he would come in his jeans. She was killing him, turning his own fire against him until he barely had any control.

Jazzlyn was perfect for him. If he’d needed confirmation of it, if there’d been any lingering doubts that she was the right mate for him, then stepping into her apartment and seeing her collection of stones would have answered them. She could spend several lifetimes creating jewelry with the gems in his lair. She would be content there, happy and safe—as he meant her to be. And if she insisted, he’d even allow some of the lesser pieces to leave his possession and be sold or given to others.

Kirill closed his eyes and savored the feel of her against him, the scent of her. Now that he had her alone, he fought against a quick mounting. It would be over too soon if he entered her now.

“Mine,” he said against her lips, finally allowing her a breath that wasn’t his.

She trembled against him but didn’t deny his claim. Soon he’d mark her with his smell and his bite, later, with the rake of his mating talons across her belly or back. And when they crossed into his realm, she would wear a dragon like the one on his human flesh.

He took her mouth again, this time caressing and exploring her with his hands. Satisfaction purring through him as he swallowed the small sounds of pleasure she made.

She was soft and feminine, lushly formed.
His
. And he wanted to see her, to gaze at her without the barrier of clothing between them. That’s the way he’d keep her when they returned to his lair, naked save for the gems adorning her.

His cock pulsed. Arousal coated its tip, leaking now in a lava-hot warning that after centuries of waiting, there was a limit to the torment he could endure.

With a growl he forced himself away from her. He felt the loss of her touch immediately and would have vented with a roar and fiery exhalation if he could have. Instead frustrated heat condensed into a single, scorching command. “Disrobe.”

Her eyes flashed, but it wasn’t defiance he read in them, it was erotic fear. To defend himself against her effect on him, his hand curled around his cloth-covered erection, and the action was nearly his undoing.

Her gaze followed. Her tongue peeked out for an instant, bringing with it a rush of fantasies.

He wanted to feel her mouth on him. But even completely sated, he doubted he could hold himself into a human shape if she touched her lips to his rigid organ.

“Disrobe for me, Jazzlyn,” he said, tightening his fingers on his throbbing penis, using pain to keep from pouncing.

Desire made Jazzlyn feel lightheaded, as did the sight of him standing in front of her, his hand on his hardened cock. The way his fingers tightened, the knuckles paling as if the only thing keeping him from coming was the pain of his grip, was incredibly erotic.

It was exhilarating, an amazing boost to her self-confidence. And it was more, a soul-deep reassurance she wasn’t alone in feeling powerless against the desire burning incendiary-hot between them.

Trembling fingers went to the hem of her blouse. She was glad there were no buttons to deal with because she didn’t think she could manage them.

She tugged upward, aware of the way Kirill’s nostrils flared as her midriff was exposed. A needy sigh escaped as she drew her blouse over the tight, sensitive points of her nipples.

Nervousness fluttered through her as the blouse dropped to the floor and her fingers went to the front clasp of her bra. She fumbled then, and in a blink his hands were covering hers, his body crowding hers.

She moaned when the clasp gave way and he took possession of her breasts, cupping them, tormenting them with his fingers, his eyes burning with so much lust she arched her back, dared to whisper, “Put your mouth on me.”

He intended to put his mouth on much more of her. It was there in his expression.

His head lowered. Firm masculine lips captured her nipple, sending flashes of hot need downward. His tongue rasped over the taut areola and her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him to her.

She couldn’t remain still when he began sucking. His lips and tongue worked in perfect concert, gentle at first, then dominant and possessive.

Every pull sent exquisite sensation from her nipples to her cunt. She ground against his erection, rubbed her hardened clit against his rigid cock until with easy strength he lifted her into his arms and carried her the short distance to the bed.

His earlier command for her to strip was forgotten as he set her on her feet then immediately freed her skirt. It pooled at her feet, leaving her standing in short heels and dark blue panties.

Satisfaction glittered in his eyes. His thumbs rubbed over the waistband before hooking, tugging, so the panties joined the skirt.

Chapter Five

Jazzlyn stepped out of her shoes then moved into him, trembling with her need to rid him of his clothing. He allowed her to peel his shirt away, revealing sleek muscles and tight abs. A tattoo above his left nipple made her laugh softly even as she remembered that instant when she caught his image in the mirror and thought it was overlaying that of a dragon.

“Why am I not surprised?” she asked, tracing the blue and silver beast stretched out in flight.

He shuddered under her touch, drawing her closer, making it impossible not to lean in and press a kiss to the tattoo before moving lower and catching his nipple between her lips, sucking.

A growl was the only warning he gave. A sweep of his arm and the bed was cleared of gems and books, and then she was on it, hands pinned to the mattress, his body a hot, heavy weight on top of her.

He tugged at her bottom lip, sucked it into the wet heat of his mouth and sent a jolt straight to her clit. She was so wet for him, so ready.

The feel of him above her, partially clothed while she was completely naked seemed decadent. And yet it thrilled her in a dark, unexpected way, made her feel vulnerable, submissive.

White-fire raced down Kirill’s spine, spilling around to cup his testicles and burn away the magic holding his penis into a human’s shape and size. The ridges beneath his cock head throbbed as he filled to his true length and width.

He’d waited too long, and would wait even longer. She was his and he wouldn’t mount her until he’d tasted her, until he’d pleasured her so thoroughly she’d be ready to take a dragon’s cock.

The magic would hide him again after the first release. Only then would it be safe to strip completely and be naked with her, to luxuriate in the feel of so much skin against skin.

A shudder went through him. He relinquished her lips and kissed downward, keeping her hands prisoner against the mattress.

Having her open and helpless satisfied something deeply primal in him, even as her willingness to let him take her intensified the hunger. Perhaps it was why the males of his kind had always been drawn to human females. They were physically frail, defenseless against a dragon’s strength, making the capture of their love and trust, as well as their bodies, the true prize in claiming one of them as a mate.

The sight of her love-abraded nipple made him purr in satisfaction. He lingered on its twin, laved and bit, suckled until there was no mistaking he’d claimed them both.

He wanted to admire them further, but her heady scent and the feel of her bare mound against his abdomen drew him downward. He kissed his way to slick, heated woman’s flesh and then could only stare, transfixed, as if he were caught in the snare of an exquisite gem.

Everything about her was beautiful to him. Everything about her spoke to his deepest instinct to possess and hoard and protect what was his.

Flushed folds parted to reveal a rosy slit. Plump lips glistened, begging for his kiss.

It was a temptation no male could resist.

“Mine,” he said, rubbing his mouth against her hot skin and lapping his tongue through her slick center.

She pressed into him, like a cat wanting more of his petting and he was only too happy to accommodate her, to immerse himself in touch and taste and scent.

It was more than lust, more than a dragon wallowing in treasure. Each cry of pleasure he rung from her with the thrust of his tongue, with sucking, biting kisses, spread wild joy through him, promised a life of laughter and happiness, contentment and family, an end to the loneliness that had marked centuries of his existence as he’d single-mindedly pursued an end to the sorcerer’s curse.

Jazzlyn
. Her name pulsed through him with every beat of his heart. Her claim to him was already soul deep.

There would never be another female for him. She was his first. She was his last.

Kirill trembled, feeling the magic shimmer in warning that soon the truth of his cock wouldn’t be the only one revealed. With a final kiss, with one last thrust of his tongue into her heated core, he forced himself away from her cunt.

Somehow he managed to get the front of his pants open. A raw moan escaped as he took himself in hand. His hips bucked and only the pain of his fist tightening around his shaft kept him from desperately pumping through his fingers and spewing his seed.

Her hands tangled in his hair, urging him upward, back to her mouth. He obeyed, careful to keep the dragon ridges concealed beneath his fingers.

He fought to prevent the mating spurs at his wrists from descending and filling with serum. Tension vibrated through him but he couldn’t ignore her breasts when his lips drew close to them.

A hard, quick suck had her arching her back, whispering, “Please Kir, please. I need you inside me.”

Kir
. The nickname blossomed in his heart, an unfurling of adoration with a tiny, hidden gem at its center, a private, intimate gift she’d given to him.

He took her mouth with his, thrust his tongue against hers as he guided his cock head to her opening. It was exquisite agony and unbearable pleasure, beyond anything he could have ever imagined to lie with her skin-to-skin, to know a female, his mate, for the first time.

He tried to go slowly, afraid of hurting her with his size. He wanted to commit every inch of sensation to memory as he slid inside her.

Kirill lifted his face so he could memorize her expressions. Her skin was flushed, her lips swollen and wet from his kiss, her eyes dark and smoky with lust.

Unparalleled ecstasy surged through him as her sheath swallowed him, rippling hungrily over the ridges on his penis, drawing him deeper. He shuddered as her fingers raked through his hair, her hands moving to his back, her fingernails against his skin freeing his dragon nature.

There was no thought but to take her. To pound into her ruthlessly and claim her.

The bed shook with the force of his thrusts. The apartment filled with the sound of his heavy breathing and her cries.

She clung to him, climbed with him. Grew as desperate for the hot fury of release as he did.

Heat shimmered in waves around and in him, built until he feared the apartment would go up in flames with his next exhalation. Fire, only barely extinguished and turned into a shout, erupted when her channel clamped down on him savagely, her release triggering his and causing jets of semen to flash through his cock, scorching and consuming him.

He collapsed, sweat-slick and shaking, but still cognizant enough not to crush Jazzlyn beneath him. He cradled her to him, burying his face in her soft hair, breathing in their mingled scents and taking great satisfaction in the way she trembled and clung to him in the aftermath of passion, in the way she still held him inside her body, as if she were reluctant to part from him.

Parting from him wasn’t an option. It would
never
be an option.

As soon as this matter of her cousin was taken care of, they’d cross into the dragon’s realm and he’d have her safely ensconced in his lair. Xanthus and his mates could see to packing her gems and books and tools, dealing with her apartment and disposing of her car and any of the other things she would no longer need—like clothes.

Kirill smiled at thoughts of keeping her naked. He closed his eyes, intending to savor the bliss of having her snuggled against him for a few minutes before taking her again. But worry slid in, an insidious chill that grew as he imagined her reaction to learning he’d taken her to a different realm, one inaccessible to her family and friends.

In the old days, a female taken by a dragon was presumed dead. Rarely were they searched for. In fact, they were often virgins,
given
in sacrifice to a dragon, in the hopes livestock would be left unmolested and village buildings wouldn’t be reduced to ash.

In these current times…

The uneasiness grew in Kirill. He’d been in this realm less than a full day and already he was anxious to return to the peace of his own, where he could soar in his first form, where it wasn’t a constant struggle to keep from torching his surroundings.

His anxiety grew when he felt Jazzlyn’s heart rate accelerate. Her body lost its soft lassitude and she tried to pull away from him.

Instinctively he tightened his arms. The very tips of his mating spurs descended, dragon nature asserting itself in the presence of a human female who might need to be rendered unconscious so she could be carried home.

He struggled to find words that would state his intentions without making her run from him. In play he would enjoy chasing her, swooping down on her in dragon form and capturing her. But after having her beneath him willingly, he had no desire to have her flee in fear or to see terror in her eyes when he ultimately found her again.

Jazzlyn’s hands left his back to wedge themselves between their two bodies. Her palms were flat against his chest, pushing gently as though she weren’t yet fully committed to extricating herself from his arms. He grunted when her lower body ground against his, sending a hot pulse of need through his cock.

The feel of him hardening inside her increased her struggles. But her struggles only fed a savage, fiery circle of lust.

“Keep that up and I’m going to breathe flames,” he panted, the words impulsive.

Apparently it was the right thing to say. She laughed and some of her tension melted away.

Kirill rubbed his cheek against hers, wanting to soothe her further. He rolled so his body once again pinned hers to the mattress.

Reflexively he thrust. She felt too good for him to remain still.

Apparently that was the
wrong
thing to do. She stiffened.

“Don’t. We shouldn’t.” And then in a soft, barely discernable voice. “Not again. Not without protection.”

Protection? By the Great Shared Ancestor, what was his mate talking about? What greater protection did she need than to be with him?

Jazzlyn braced herself, not sure how he was going to react, not believing she’d been so stupid. She knew better! She’d even had a fleeting thought about tormenting him as she slid a condom onto his cock, but she’d been lost the instant he’d put his mouth on her cunt.

As the silence lengthened without him responding, she filled it nervously. “It should be okay. I’m not on the Pill but I’m pretty regular. It’s…I just…I don’t think there’s much chance of getting pregnant right now. But it would be better if we don’t risk it.”

He relaxed against her though he didn’t pull from her body. His lips nuzzled her ear, sending a shiver of pleasure through her.

“There is no risk. Fertility is a problem for all those I’m related to, except for Xanthus. It would be nearly impossible for me to get you with child now.” He guided her hand to the dragon on his chest. “But if by some act of fate it did happen, you are mine, Jazzlyn. I take care of what belongs to me.”

His lips captured her earlobe. He sucked, making her inner muscles tighten on a cock that had grown even harder.

She let her worries go, trusting in him as well as in her knowledge of her body’s cycles. Pleasure fogged her mind. Sharp spikes of need made her channel clench and unclench on his penis when he released her earlobe in favor of fucking into her ear canal.

Her sheath gripped and released in time to the wet probing. Her hips rose off the mattress, forcing him to fill her more completely, to claim her more deeply.

He moaned and thrust harder, as if he’d pound his claim into her very soul. His tongue mimicked the dominance of his cock.