The Dragon's Lover (3 page)

Then the trail of fire went down her body, down her
sternum, to one breast, then the other. Raine was not as endowed as
the creature on top of her, but sensed the woman's pleasure in her.
And when the dragon fixated on the firm muscles of her torso, then
went lower, the girl writhed beneath the incessant brutal
sensuality of the creature.

Weynild returned to her position on top the girl.
“Although I am female,” she said, “I am also a shape-shifter and
capable of many things.” Raine was not quite certain what this
pronouncement meant, but it became immediately clear when the woman
penetrated her with some fortuitous appendage she had constructed.
Raine arched upward in both pain and pleasure, holding onto the
woman who briefly paused. Weynild glanced down between the girl's
legs where her hips were now buried.

“You are untouched,” she whispered, surprised and
pleased.

“Well, I was,” Raine said, stating the obvious.

The dragon's pleasure only intensified, although she
moderated the size of the appendage she had created. But she did
not slow the pace or strength of her thrusts and quickly drove the
two of them to a precipice much higher than the one Raine had just
scaled. Although the violet-eyed beauty beneath her was
inexperienced, the gorgeous creature was not unskilled, clearly
inheriting all the gifts of her Arlanian parent. Her body answered
with unrestrained passion and although Arlanians could be forced to
climax against their will, that was not remotely an issue as the
two moved to a complete and explosive union. In the end, the girl
cried out at the overwhelming sensation she had waited centuries
for. The dragon's climax was simultaneous, the experience in a way
as novel for her as it was for the vestal creature beneath her.
Never had a lover so completely sated her.

The older woman rolled over, carrying the younger
with her. The two lay side by side, their limbs comfortably
intertwined. Despite the suddenness of their conjoining,
conversation seemed unnecessary. The silence was lengthy and
enjoyable and was only broken when the humor of the situation
impressed itself upon the dragon.

“So are you always attracted to women a thousand
years your senior?”

Raine stretched languorously. “I have met only one,
so apparently yes.”

The golden eyes assessed her carefully. “And don't
you wish to ask me which form is truly mine? The dragon or the
woman?”

“No,” Raine said casually, “it does not matter. And
you might as well ask me if I am Scinterian or Arlanian because I
am quite impossibly both.”

“Yes,” Weynild said, shifting her weight so her hip
rested against the girl's. “And how exactly did that come
about?”

Raine shrugged. “My parents died when I was very
young, so I remember very little of them. But it is said my father
was fierce on the battlefield, and my mother fierce in bed.”

“And did you get the best of both of them?”

Raine grinned mischievously. “Now that's not
something I can judge personally, now is it? Clearly that is
something someone else must decide.”

The dragon examined the long graceful limbs, the
slender muscularity of the torso, the intricate blue and gold
markings on the forearms. “Well I can attest to at least one of
them. Which brings to mind another question. Both your parent races
are long-lived, and although you are young, I am still guessing you
are several centuries old.”

“I am,” Raine said. “I am almost three hundred, in
fact.”

Weynild traced the outline of the girl's cheekbone
with her finger. “Then how is it that an Arlanian remained
untouched all of that time? Surely you had numerous suitors?”

Raine's words were still casual, but with a slightly
harder edge. “Arlanians don't have suitors. They have masters, they
have keepers, they have owners.”

The golden eyes locked on the girl. “Your people were
not always slaves. They were worshiped by the Alfar long before the
sons of men discovered their existence.”

“Nevertheless,” Raine said, “Scinterians have no
masters, no keepers, no owners. And they only ever had one
equal.”

Weynild rolled the girl onto her back, easily pinning
her with strength that belonged to her other form. She stared down
into the violet eyes with great pleasure.

“And is that why you have had no lovers?” she asked.
“You could not find a dragon?'

The mischievous grin returned. “I found you.”

The beautiful older woman smiled at the renewed
desire of the youngster beneath her. “You should be careful what
you wish for, small one. Dragons are notoriously insatiable and
known for grinding their lovers into dust.”

Raine clasped her hand behind Weynild's neck, pulling
her downward and kissing her deeply. Weynild's desire, too,
returned full force, inflamed by the playful actions of the woman
beneath her. Raine's fingers caressed each breast, then traveled
lower, stroking the softness between her legs.

“You are remarkably skilled for someone so
inexperienced,” Weynild said between gritted teeth, then gasped as
the fingers gently entered her, exploring. She captured the girl's
mouth with her own, her tongue probing as deeply as the fingers
inside her. The two seemed to engage in a dance, the tongue and the
fingers, each matching in opposite but complementary rhythm. The
rhythm increased, and the body beneath her rocked in a gentle
motion that became quite insistent, again pushing the dragon to a
pinnacle, then over the edge.

The two kept up their dance for hours, each pushing
the other to heights of pleasure that few would ever experience and
most would not survive.

Raine rolled over on the ledge. At some point in
time, they had made it to the small raised platform on the far end
of the cavern, the floor of which was lined with hides and fleece.
It was quite comfortable, like a large, warm nest. A fire burned in
a nearby pit and Raine idly wondered if Weynild had lit it by
traditional means or simply ignited the inferno from her lungs. The
latter she would have enjoyed seeing.

The water beckoned invitingly and Raine stood,
stretching. Weynild was nowhere to be seen and Raine imagined she
was out hunting for food. They had spent days locked in nearly
non-stop sexual union. The dragon truly was insatiable and Raine
apparently possessed both her mother's desire and her father's
stamina. This thought brought a smile to her face as she dove into
the water, surfacing with a gasp as the chill took her breath away.
She floated on her back for a while, gazing up at the sun shining
down through the jagged hole in the mountain.

She became aware of a pair of golden eyes watching
her intently and she paddled back toward the shore. Weynild sat
near the fire, once again cloaked in her fiery scales. Raine waded
from the water, no concern for her nakedness even when it was in
such stark contrast to Weynild's fearsome armor. Weynild did not
disguise her admiration for the lithe, sinewy form, or her
admiration for the casual confidence in which it was displayed.
Raine shrugged her undershirt over her head and pulled on the soft
shorts she wore beneath her clothing.

“You need not get dressed on my account.”

“I am a little chilled from the water. Otherwise I am
quite comfortable wearing nothing at all.”

Weynild glanced to the blazing fire. “Then I shall do
my best to keep you warm at all times.”

A dark heap drew Raine's eye and she peered closer at
the form half in shadow. It was the bloodied remains of a cow, or
at least half a cow as a very large chunk of it was missing.

“Are you hungry?” Weynild asked mildly, unperturbed
at the bloody carcass or the implication of the jagged bite.

Raine's response was as nonchalant and understated as
the silver-haired woman's. “Yes, actually I am famished.” She
pulled one of the shortswords from her pile of belongings and
sliced off a large piece of the rump, skillfully separating out a
choice cut. She speared it cleanly with the spit and placed it over
the fire.

“Would you like me to cook you some?” Raine offered,
raising an eyebrow in question.

The fire glinted off the golden eyes. “I already
ate,” Weynild replied, causing a smile to tug at the corner of
Raine's mouth.

“Very well.”

The meat cooked quickly and Raine ate ravenously. She
had lost all track of time and now wondered if she had been here
for weeks rather than days. She finished the steak, then walked to
the edge of the water to rinse the grease from her hands. Weynild
spoke to her as she knelt down at the water's edge.

“You have most pleasantly delayed my return to the
lowlands, but I can delay my departure no longer.”

The pronouncement seemed to have little effect on
Raine as she continued to scrub, seemingly dissatisfied with the
results of her attempted cleanliness.

“Ah,” she said over her shoulder, “you have a home in
the lowland wilderness?”

“Yes,” Weynild said, watching her closely, trying to
assess the girl's response or lack of one. She continued, her tone
even, testing the preoccupied youngster.

“And do you wish to depart with me?”

Raine stood, examining her hands closely. It seemed
they finally passed muster. “Well of course I am going to return
with you—,” she said, starting to turn around then glancing sharply
upward over her shoulder. She was forced to take a step back.
Weynild towered over her in dragon form, fairly menacing, or at
least would have been to anyone who was not so aroused by the
display of power.

“Were you going to eat me if I said no?” Raine asked
mockingly.

The dragon's golden eyes glowed with amusement. “No,”
came the throaty, sensual reply, “but I would have chained you to
my bed for the next one hundred years.”

Raine considered the threat while gathering her
things. “I don't think we should take that option off the
table.”

“You are incorrigible,” the dragon replied with
pleasure. The sinewy neck snaked downward. “We will travel much
quicker if you take to my back.”

This prospect brought a flush of joy to Raine's
cheeks. No one was ever allowed to ride a dragon. They were
intensely proud creatures and the only recorded instances of shared
flight in all of history were in Scinterian legend. Still, she
could not repress her humor.

“Well, in truth I have already ridden you…”

“Get on,” Weynild ordered.

Raine scrambled up onto the neck of the beautiful
creature, marveling at the supple feel of the neck. She ran her
fingers along the reddish scales glinting with multicolored
high-lights. “I don't know,” she said, her tone dubious, “shouldn't
I have a saddle and stirrups, perhaps a riding crop or
something?”

The wicked sense of humor had pushed the dragon quite
far enough. The enormous head turned around, gazing at Raine with
glowing gold eyes. “That is an excellent idea, on one condition. I
get to use them on you when I transform at our destination.”

“Ah,” Raine said, her fingers tracing the scales
beneath her. “I think riding bareback will be quite sufficient,
then.”

The dragon snorted and the mass beneath Raine moved
to the opening of the cave. They stood balanced precariously on the
edge and Raine held tightly as the muscles beneath her contracted
and then the beast leaped skyward. The wings unfurled like the
sails of a ship and the sensation was glorious. The blood-red
dragon went into a dive from which any normal being would have died
from fright. But the girl perched on the neck of the beast just
laughed. The dragon engaged in a series of acrobatic maneuvers to
entertain her passenger, then wheeled about toward the west,
settling into a steady pace.

The feel of the rippling muscles beneath her was
pleasurable. In fact, Raine thought to herself, it was almost a
little too pleasurable. The steadiness of the pace was also adding
to the wonderful feeling of discomfort and the warmth that began to
tingle between her legs. She shifted her weight, uncertain if she
was attempting to relieve the sensation or move herself into better
position to experience it. It did not matter as her shifting only
intensified the inexorable stroking, matching every beat of those
powerful wings. A soft groan escaped her lips.

The dragon became aware of the shifting movement of
the creature behind her, and it took her a moment to interpret the
cause. In the meantime, the girl shifted again and pressed herself
closely to the sinewy neck, removing any doubt as to the condition
she was in.

“Oh my,” the dragon whispered to the wind.

It was an exquisite torture and the tension built and
built, but the girl would not release. She seemed intent on
restraining herself and resisting an outcome that was inevitable.
The pleasurable distress finally became too much for Weynild and
the dragon dove straight into the ground, pulling up just parallel
to the surface and strafing into the rocky earth with her talons.
Rock and dirt flew everywhere as the dragon dug a furrow three
hundred yards long before the massive creature came to a halt,
transforming as she did so and taking the girl to the ground.
Weapons, armor, and clothing went flying as the dragon-woman buried
herself in her lover, bringing her to climax almost immediately,
one that seemingly went on without end. She herself came to
pleasure quickly, then did so more leisurely a multitude of
times.

At long last, Raine lay exhausted on top of Weynild,
her head on her breast. They were lying in the crater the dragon
had left on final impact. The crater would be found by hunters days
later, causing them to speculate that a star had fallen from the
sky judging by the trench that had been torn from the earth leading
to the massive hole.

The silver-haired woman looked down at her now-sated
lover, shifting her weight slightly and drawing the girl close.