Page 4 of His Curvy Mate

Andreas’ skin was a golden bronze hue. Caye wasn’t sure if that was a trick of the flickering torchlight, because he was a bronze dragon, or because before he’d been cursed he’d spent hours under the sun. His skin seemed burnished so that it would be smooth to the touch. His jaw was strong and square, covered with a hint of stubble that added a rugged edge to his striking features. His eyes, a piercing shade of blue, held an intense, magnetic gaze that could captivate anyone who dared to meet them. Dark, tousled hair framed his handsome face, adding to his air of effortless magnetism.

The contours of his abs were like those of a perfectly carved statue, each muscle defined and hard, leading down to a narrow waist and powerful legs that seemed ready to spring into action at any moment. From between those thighs rose an impressively large and hard cock. When he moved, it was with a fluid grace that belied his size, every step confident and purposeful. His presence commanded attention. He was a gorgeous hunk of a man, the epitome of physical perfection and raw, unbridled, sensual, masculine beauty.

Caye thought to run, but Andreas made a low, rumbling sound that was a cross between a growl and a purr. She’d never heard anything make that noise before. She didn’t know what it was or why it affected her the way it did. All she knew was that she seemed to be rooted to the spot on which she’d been standing.

Andreas scooped her up and carried her to a flat rock which she hadn’t really noticed when she’d entered the ice chamber. It reminded her of some kind of sacrificial altar and Caye had the distinct impression she was to be the sacrifice.

“Shh, mate, it will be fine,” he crooned.

He breathed fire on the rock, heating it before turning the flames on her. It didn’t frighten her as she knew fire could not harm her, but she also got the impression that what he wanted was not to harm her but to render her naked. There was a sizzle along her skin as her clothing seemed to just evaporate into ashes. He laid her on the rock, which felt good beneath her back. In fact, it was the first time she’d felt warm in days, which was somewhat incongruous as she was no longer clothed.

Spreading her legs, he stepped between them, pressing down on her chest to hold her in place with one hand as he stroked his cock with the other, lining it up with her opening as he stepped closer and pressed into her, breaching her core. Caye expected it to be painful—he had done nothing to prepare her, and his dick was huge—but it wasn’t. Instead, the rightness of it was overwhelming as he groaned, and her body shuddered in response.

Caye moaned and arched against him, wanting him deeper. The way he stretched and filled her was like nothing she’d felt before. It was divine, and Andreas snapped his hips, burying himself inside her, making her writhe beneath him.

“Yes,” he purred.

He hesitated only for a moment before drawing back and thrusting in again. He shoved himself deep, only to drag himself back before surging forward. His need to mate was palpable and somehow seemed to have caught her up in it. Caye grasped his muscular forearms as his hands gripped her hips, holding her in place as he fucked in and out of her—fast and furious, building her climax in an unrelenting and unapologetic manner.

Her pussy clamped down as her orgasm exploded and Andreas’ eyes became dark and feral. He rutted into her ruthlessly, never slowing for the first climax or the second that came hot on its heels. His breath sped up and became ragged as he growled, and the noises she made became whimpers as another orgasm approached faster than she could comprehend.

Caye felt her body stiffen as she arched up into him, embarrassment at what he was doing and making her feel long ago forgotten sensations. He drove her to the precipice of pleasure a third time. Only this time he gave a hard, brutal thrust deep inside her, and she screamed in ecstasy. Her pussy spasmed all along his length as she thrashed and reveled in his hold, greedily milking his cock.

Andreas fell forward, resting his massive body on hers. Instead of finding it suffocating, Caye found it comforting, and realized she didn’t necessarily want to move. Again, a feeling of rightness came over her and she realized the buzzing and nausea had left. She closed her eyes and was asleep before he’d rolled to his back, cradling her to his chest.

Caye wasn’t sure how long she slept before she felt him move again, rolling her to her back as his cock began to stiffen inside her. The serenity she’d felt when she’d begun to wake began to fade as realization of what he’d done and how she’d responded came back to her. The moment she could feel the distress, the deep rumbling began as he slipped his hands beneath her buttocks to hold her steady as he began to thrust in and out again.

This time the frenzy was gone as Andreas seemed far more interested in reveling in their bonding. If he thought she was going to allow him to encase her in one of those cocoons or give up her identity as a hellhound, he had another thought coming.

“That is not our way,” he purred in her mind.

“Don’t do that,” she said out loud.

The corners of his eyes and mouth crinkled as he smiled before bringing his mouth down on hers. Arousal flashed through her, blotting out everything else. At first his mouth was soft and coaxing, but when she didn’t yield as quickly as he liked, it became more dominating and aggressive. Caye had been able to resist the sweetness, but this dominance, this show of force, was seductive as hell and she found herself yielding to him, her lips parting.

His tongue surged in as he leisurely stroked her pussy with his cock. His mouth commanded hers to submit to him, taking over as if it was his right, and she supposed for an ancient dragon that was how it felt to him. If stories were to be believed, he was old—older than the Phantom Fire, older than Strode, older perhaps than any known or recorded civilizations.

His tongue danced with hers, tangling and sliding around it and encouraging hers to do the same. Caye found him intoxicating—a feeling she knew all too well. In her mind she could hear her hellhound growling as it paced back and forth.

“Soothe your savage beast. We will bring her no harm,” he purred.

“Stop it,” she snarled, biting down on his tongue, which only made him laugh.

The kiss morphed again, as did the way he surged in and out of her. This wasn’t about seduction or even coercion; this was all about possession. And possession meant claiming. No fucking way. Caye began to fight him and refused to be lulled or soothed by his rumbling. She wasn’t sure why she instinctively fought to be free of him, but she knew if she didn’t, he would claim her. Hadn’t he already called her mate? Dear god, hadn’t she felt her soul’s recognition of its fated mate?

He kissed her fiercely, murmuring, “Mine,” as he lowered his head to the spot where her neck curved into her shoulder and bit down brutally.

Caye screamed in pleasure and pain as her body convulsed in a powerful orgasm as he deepened the savage bite, ensuring it would leave a prominent scar and allow, she was sure, his DNA to overwrite her own. He thrust deep inside her and spilled his seed, the warmth of it a kind of balm to her ravaged pussy.

“No,” she wailed.

“Shh, mate,” he crooned in her mind. “Our way is not that of our lesser descendants. All will be well.”

“The fuck it will be. I will not be encased…”

“No. You will not. You are mine and you will be drakaina, but you will also remain a hellhound.”

“How? And quit talking in my head.”

---