Prince of Dragons (12 page)

“Then you’d better fix that,” she said.

His golden eyes opened. She gloried in the intimacy of his gaze as she held him deep inside her.

“How?”

She drew his huge hand down to where they were joined and guided his thumb to the swollen bud of her clitoris. “Mm,” she approved as he circled it gently. “Like that.”

Only to discover that he had some inventive ideas of his own. His other hand cupped her ass, his fingertips stroking into the deep furrow there to find another tiny opening, and play it at the same time. She dug her nails into his shoulders, her head falling back.

“You’re supposed to ask before you…do that,” she managed, as pleasure spun through her. His importuning finger thrust deeper, and she opened her mouth to scold him, but crooned with pleasure instead.

“Come for me,” he urged, watching her.

And she did, her pussy clasping his still-turgid shaft as she shivered into a delicious orgasm.

He groaned. “Ahh—I can feel that.”

She opened her eyes. “The next time, we’ll be together. Let me show you.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “We will. But I’ll show you.”

She nipped at his lower lip. “You have little experience.”

“No. But I’ve had months to decide exactly what I want to do with you,” he said.

Laughter bubbled up inside her. “That sounds dangerous. Are you sure either of us will survive such a marathon?”

He cupped her face in his hands and looked into her eyes, his thumbs sweeping across her cheekbones. “No,” he said wryly, although she could have sworn the depths of his golden eyes held pain. “I doubt that I will. But I’ve decided I’d rather die of pleasure than never know it.”

“Oh, Slyde,” she chided. “I haven’t killed a lover yet.”

“Then let me be the first.” He stood, still deep inside her.

She clung to him as he turned and knelt on the padded bench, then came down on top of her. She lifted her legs, locking her feet in the small of his back.

Cupping his face in her hands, she pulled him down to her. “Kiss me,” she invited.

He looked at her lips, turning his head slightly to invite the caress of her hands. As she stroked his silky head, she could not help smiling.

“You do not wish to kiss me?”

“I’m not sure,” he teased her gravely. “I’ve been flayed by words from this mouth so many times, I believe I’m afraid to offer up myself up to it.”

She hissed at him, and he winced as her nails dug into his scalp.

“You deserved each time, you great beast, and you know it.”

“Hmm, maybe or maybe not. I believe I deserve its sweetness now.”

He bent his head, but instead of swooping on her, he brushed his lips along hers. He returned again and again, with such gentle nudges and tastes that she found herself held captive, waiting only for more. The room was very quiet, only their soft breaths breaking the silence as they learned the tender contours, the moistness of inner lip, the resilience and clever play of Serpentian tongues together.

Sirena had never thought much of kissing as a part of love play. Males enjoyed her tongue employed on sensitive parts of their bodies, but humans did not enjoy kissing Serpentians, and she did not enjoy kissing any male who wanted to shove his wet tongue down her throat or slobber on her.

But this was an unspoken conversation. Never had she known another mouth could say so much without words, could tell her that he reveled in this chance to know her taste, the yielding give of her mouth beneath his, in learning what made her lift up to him in a demand for more.

Their kisses began to have an effect on another part of him, as well. His cock swelled inside her, and he began to move in slow, subtle strokes. She moaned in approval as his cock dragged over exquisitely sensitive nerves in her sheath, stretched taut by his presence.

The sheer delight that it was Slyde moving over her, Slyde whose face was a mask of pleasure, golden eyes molten with heat, sent pleasure melting through her pussy and then out through her body. She came with delicious rapidity, his name on her lips.

“Sirena!” he groaned against her mouth, and she felt his hot seed flood her once again.

Part of Slyde wanted nothing more than to sink down on her and let himself fall fathoms deep into sleep. But another part knew if he did he would miss too much of this one precious night. When he’d recovered from the enervation of his second orgasm, he pulled slowly out of her and lay down beside her on the padded bench. He felt so good, he wanted to roar.

Sirena stretched sinuously and sat up.

“Where are you going?” he inquired, his hand on her hip. She wasn’t going to leave him yet.

She patted his leg. “Not far. I brought refreshments.”

Slipping off of the bench, she reached underneath and lifted up a basket. He watched with bemused interest as she pulled out a carafe, a dish of charnelle and an assortment of small jars.

Leaning up on his elbow, he took the carafe as she offered it to him and took a swig. It was a delicate wine, with the faint echo of berries.

“Frontieran,” she said, smiling at his look of approval.

He handed her the carafe and watched her drink. “A fine wine. What else do you have there?”

“Charnelle.” She handed him the dish of truffles, each with an ornate design of a tiny lizard bearing a hot chili pepper in his mouth. “Do you like it?”

“Very much.” He took one and bit into it. The taste, at once velvety and hot, seared across his tongue.

Her eyes danced as she selected one for herself. “Good. It builds endurance.”

He let his gaze travel slowly down her as she ate her truffle. She sat gracefully erect, legs folded beneath her, letting him admire her bare breasts, tiny waist and flared hips to the delicate mound of her mons.

“So does looking at you,” he said.

He reached for her, wanting her close. After all the months of watching and yearning, he could not get enough of touching her—warm flesh under satin skin, the play of strong muscle and the intriguing feminine padding of even such a highly toned female.

She slithered away from his touch. “I need a shower-dry. Care to join me?”

Chapter Nineteen

Rising with alacrity, Slyde followed Sirena across the locker room and into one of the units. As the hatch slid shut behind them, he had to crowd to fit into the space with her. He was amazed as always, how he towered over her. She was such a vital force that she seemed somehow to take up more space.

She leaned into him, silky skin against his own. “Hmm, you’re going to take a great deal of washing.”

The naughty satisfaction in her voice surprised a chuckle out of him. She looked up at him, clearly intrigued.

“What?”

“That is the first time I’ve ever heard you laugh,” she said. “I like it.” She stood on tiptoe and gave him a kiss. “Water, on. Hot.”

Hot water and steam gushed from the high spigots. It felt wonderful, but not as wonderful as the feel of two clever hands laden with gel-soap fastening on his cock. He grunted with surprise, and she laughed up at him. “You like this,” she said. “I’m so glad, because I plan to be very thorough.”

She was. Her slippery hands slid between his thighs and ass cheeks, learning every contour and crevice. She made him laugh again, tickling him. They wrestled playfully until she got a mouthful of water and had to duck her head against his chest, sputtering. He smoothed her wet hair back from her face, leaning over her to shelter her from the water and then kissing her again because she was so beautiful glistening and wet, her hair sleeked back, emphasizing the emerald power of her eyes.

By the time she was through, his cock was drawn hard and tight as if he had never had her. He wanted nothing more than to lift her against the wall and drive into her, take her right there. But first…

“It’s my turn,” he said. He filled his hands with the gel soap and began to wash her. Unlike her, he didn’t content himself with just her nether regions. He started at her throat and worked his way over her shoulders and arms. He gave special attention to her breasts, admiring the way they swelled in his hands, the soap suds glistening on her thrusting nipples. Pulling her against him, he kissed her lazily as he washed down her back and her waist, over her hips. Finally he cupped her mons in his hand and held her for a moment.

She smiled against his mouth, making a little sound of pleasure. Sudden fierce male possessiveness flooded him. He wanted to hold her just this way before the entire galaxy—wanted every male alive to see that she was his and his alone. Anger and desolation threatened as he remembered that she likely never would be, but he thrust them fiercely away. This one night he’d have her. Perhaps it would even be enough to convince her to stay with him.

He gathered another handful of the soap and washed her with exquisite care, enjoying every slippery crevice and crease with his fingertips. That she loved his ministrations was clear as her eyes drooped, her hands tightened on his arms and she moved with his hands. She tipped her head back against the wall and smiled up at him.

“Drying, commence,” he said. “Now, siren, I’m going to taste you—all over.”

Sirena nearly moaned at the heated promise in his eyes. Her knees trembled as a delicious flood of heat filled her loins. Her clitoris swelled and throbbed in anticipation.

He stepped out of the unit, and held out his hand to her in as courtly a gesture as if they were clad in evening wear, stepping from a hover-limo. She laid her hand in his and followed him back to the massage bench, where she lay back, offering herself to him in a wanton, graceful pose.

“Why don’t you open one or two of the jars?” she invited, gesturing at the basket.

“What are they?” he asked, without taking his eyes off her. He pushed her feet gently apart, making a place for himself between her legs.

“Unguents and gels. They produce some interesting effects.”

He shook his head. “I want only to taste you,” he said, and slid his hands under her ass, holding her up like an offering.

She started to answer, but it became a whimper of such girlish shock that her cheeks burned as he flicked his long, clever tongue up through the furrow of her labia straight to her clitoris.

“Yess,” he commanded. “Sing to me, Siren. Tell me what you want, what pleases you.”

Everything he did. He employed his tongue with absolute ruthlessness, swirling her clitoris so that she shot up a swift slope toward orgasm and then thrusting it deep inside her in such a tantalizing mimicry of sexual possession that she writhed in his grasp.

She opened her mouth to command him back to her clitoris, only to whimper again as he did exactly as she wished, his tongue laving the swollen bud with a rough pressure that sent ecstasy shivering deep through her pussy and made her dig her heels into the bench, pressing up against his kiss.

“Ahh!” she cried out. “Yesss. Slyde…”

He thrust two fingers carefully inside her, and she came even harder, clenching around the invading caress, riding his fingers with eager abandon.

She opened her eyes at last to find him watching her. Holding her gaze, he stroked his fingers in and out of her a few more times, clearly enjoying the way she tilted her hips to enjoy his touch to the fullest.

“I enjoyed the way you pleaded with me,” he said gravely.

She kicked at him, piqued as she realized she had indeed pleaded wordlessly with him, and he grabbed her legs, his eyes gleaming. “I liked it very much.”

“Let’s hear what sort of noises you make when I take you in my mouth,” she offered, narrowing her eyes at him.

His pupils flared. “You would…enjoy this?” he asked.

She sat up, cupping his face in her hands. “With you? Oh, yes.” She leaned over and kissed him. “I have imagined tasting you,” she whispered to him. “Imagined holding your cock in my mouth while I explore you with my hands.”

He groaned. “Sirena!”

He let her push him onto his back, but then he touched her face as she looked down at him, stroking her hands over his broad chest and lower, her fingers trailing over each ridge of muscle on his taut belly.

“I—I don’t believe I can maintain control,” he said, sounding so abashed she nearly smiled. “Perhaps you should not.”

She considered him gravely as she put one leg across him, straddling him and leaning over close enough to kiss him.

“Why would I want you to maintain control?” she murmured, lowering herself enough to rub her breasts on his broad chest, loving the feel of his plush skin abrading her nipples. “I want all of you, Slyde Stone. I want to feel your ecstasy in my mouth. I want to taste it—swallow it.”

He pulled her down for a deep kiss. She returned it lavishly, tasting herself on his tongue, reveling in the raw power of the arms holding her to him, in the massive strength of the body beneath hers. He was all heat and strength and male need and he was
hers
…for as long as she could convince him to stay.

What his siren could do with her mouth was indescribable, Slyde decided dimly. He came so hard he arched like a drawn bow, shouting out her name as he poured himself into her ravening mouth. Then he fell back, so enervated and sated that this time he could not keep his eyes open.

“Don’t leave me,” he rumbled.

“I won’t,” she answered softly.

He felt her settle beside him, felt the silk of her hair across his belly, the weight of her arm. He twined the fingers of one hand in her hair and fell asleep.

Sirena woke to find herself face down on the bench, under the heated press of a large male body. She gasped, tensing for flight or fight in that instant before she remembered who held her. She never allowed herself to fall asleep with a male—never. And this was why—he now held the upper hand and could subdue her completely in any physical struggle.

“Let go,” she mumbled, shoving at him.

“Hush, love,” he soothed. “It’s me. Slyde. You are safe.”

Her cheeks flamed with chagrin. He sounded like he was soothing a panicky child. What a fool she must sound. She forced herself to relax.

He held her carefully, surrounding her with his heat and strength, one huge hand flattened on her belly as he rubbed himself against her.