Page 25 of Storm of Blood and Shadow

For a second I wonder if he could lick himself to completion, but then I realize he’s straining a little as it is, just to touch my breasts with his tongue. The most he could manage would be licking the tip of his cock, which probably wouldn’t be very satisfying.

I swing around with my back to his belly scales and sit astride the base of his cock, where it emerges from the armored slit between his back legs. In this position, I can wrap part of his cock between my interlaced legs while my arms keep stroking the upper part of his length. An earth-shaking groan rumbles from him as I find a good rhythm and stroke his entire shaft mercilessly, wickedly, driving him toward climax.

He has no idea what to expect, no concept of the bliss he’s about to experience. Knowing that he’s so hungry for this, yet so innocent of sexual things—it’s incredibly arousing for me. The continuous rubbing of my bare, wet pussy against his cock sends little rushes of tingling heat through my body. I’m working myself closer to orgasm even as his groans intensify.

With every hugging stroke of my arms, his body tightens more, massive muscles rippling beneath his scaly hide. He sobs out a harsh sound, half cry and half snarl, then stretches his long neck toward the ceiling of the cave and roars as he comes.

The rocks quake from the force of his bellow, and his great cock grows hotter, pulsing between my legs as cum fountains from him. I’m tucked against his belly, so only a few drops land on me, while most of it jets onto the stone floor of the cave.

I come helplessly against his cock, arching my body so I can press my pussy more firmly to that huge, hard length. The sensation of my tiny parts throbbing against his giant, pulsating cock is the strangest, most perversely erotic thing I’ve ever felt or imagined.

The last bit of cum from his orgasm drips down from the head of his cock, sliding over my arms. When I finally dismount from the base of his dick, I’m soaked in my own sweat and his cum, shaky and utterly ruined… not to mention dazed by the knowledge of what I just did.

The dragon lowers himself to the floor and lies on his side, heaving great jagged breaths.

I crawl around the puddle of cum and make my way to his head. “You’re not dying, are you? Because then I’d have to wait for some other dragon to give me a ride back to the ground tomorrow, which would be terribly inconvenient.”

He laughs, still panting. I hate that I like the sound of his deep, rumbly dragon-laugh.

“I think I died and came back to life,” he confesses. “That felt like everything I’ve ever wanted. Everything I’ve hungered for.” He lifts his head and blinks amber eyes at me, sudden concern in his tone. “It seems selfish that I should feel such bliss, while you have none. What can I do to remedy this inequity?”

I stare at him for a moment, shocked that a concept which seems to elude so many human males came so easily to him, just seconds after his first orgasm.

“Is it possible for you to feel such pleasure, too?” he asks. “I believe female dragons enjoy bliss through coupling, but I do not know how it works for humans.”

“We can feel similar pleasure,” I say. “By our own touch, or that of a partner.”

“If you teach me to please you, I will do it gladly.” He bumps my cheek lightly with his tapered muzzle. “Tell me what to do.”

His tongue quivers against my neck, and I sigh involuntarily at the tantalizing touch.

“You enjoy this,” he murmurs, licking me again. His tongue traces around one of my breasts, then moves down to my stomach. Instinctively I lie down, yielding, opening my thighs, silently inviting him to taste me.

“The scent I love so much,” says the dragon. “It comes from here.” His tongue flickers between my legs.

I don’t explain what I want in words. I can’t bring myself to say it aloud, to confess that I want a dragon’s tongue on me, inside me. So I teach him by touching myself, by playing with my clit while he watches. He learns quickly, the tips of his forked tongue replacing my fingers, teasing my clit until my eyes are shut tight and I’m squirming in suspended bliss. I reach down and pull back the lips of my sex, showing him my opening, inviting him silently.

His tongue glides inside, questing, writhing. My fingers rub my clit frantically while he tongue-fucks me, my knees arched on either side of his muzzle. When I come around his tongue, he hums with startled delight, and when he pulls out, he licks up every bit of my arousal—licks it so thoroughly, swiftly, and enthusiastically that I come a third time, with a gasping squeal and a hot flush of wild bliss, made more intense by the very realfear that the dragon will think I’m a littletootasty and decide to actually eat me.

I drag myself backward, away from his damp muzzle and those intense amber eyes.

“I already came once, while I was stroking you,” I confess breathlessly. “And twice more now. That’s the most I can manage. I need to rest.”

The dragon licks his lips. “But you taste so fucking good.”

“You can taste me again later, as long as you don’t bite me or hurt me.”

His brow ridges contract, almost a frown. “I would never harm you.”

“Says the dragon who killed many humans during the war.”

He recoils, lifting his head defiantly. “That was different. The war is over. You are not an enemy soldier.”

“Just a prisoner of war,” I reply.

“And my future mate, the mother of my hatchlings.”

With those words, reality crashes back in, shattering the barrier I built, rushing into our haven like a cold wind.

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