9. Talon
9
TALON
I was sitting in the armchair and staring at the flames when the door opened and closed behind me. Footsteps were light on the rug, and then a pair of soft hands moved to my bare shoulders and massaged the tense muscles.
Natalie dug her thumbs hard into the skin and traced the separation of the muscles before her hands slid down my arms to squeeze my biceps. As she dipped down, her lips found my neck, and she pressed a few kisses there.
The massage felt good, but not her affection. “Not tonight.” I thrust my shoulders back to push her touch off me. My eyes stayed on the fire, picturing her pissed-off expression.
She righted herself behind the armchair and turned quiet. “You haven’t called for me in a week.”
“And I didn’t call for you tonight.”
Angry with my dismissal, she came around the armchair and sat on the footstool in front of me, blocking my gaze from the flames. “Have I done something, Your Highness?”
My eyes locked on her face. “No.”
“You always call for me.”
I had several whores who tended to my needs. In exchange for their service, they were given grand accommodations in the castle, access to my chef, a comfortable life for fulfilling my fantasies.
But I didn’t give a shit about any of them.
She waited for me to say something.
But my mouth remained shut, my fingers at my jawline.
“Is there something wrong?”
“There’s always something wrong.”
“Is it…” Her eyes flinched slightly, like she didn’t want to speak her mind, for once. “The woman down the hall…?”
I could see the jealousy in her gaze. The possessiveness. She considered herself to be my favorite lover because there was nothing she was unwilling to do for me. But whether her devotion stemmed from affection or ambition, I didn’t know. Any woman would kill to be my queen, to be the second most powerful person on this continent, to bear my son to rule the kingdom when I was gone.
But no woman would ever claim that title.
My gaze continued to bore into hers. “Leave my chambers, Natalie.”
“So, it is the woman down the hall?”
“I never said it was.”
“But you aren’t denying it.”
“Because I don’t owe you an explanation. I’m not yours, Natalie.”
She flinched at my words as if they were a slap to the face. She even winced momentarily.
“I can fuck whoever I want. Leave if that bothers you.”
She hadn’t looked at me since I’d snapped at her. Her eyes always found something else to regard, like the hem of her dress or the rug underneath her feet. In an attempt to collect herself, she smoothed out her dress and rose to her feet, carrying herself with a stiff spine as she walked away.
I listened for the door, hearing it open and shut again.
She was gone.
I reached for the decanter of scotch on the table and filled my glass before I took a long drink.
You’re angry. Khazmuda’s powerful voice entered my mind.
I’m always angry.
Angrier than usual, then.
I continued to drink my scotch as I stared at the fire.
What troubles you?
If I wanted to discuss it, I would have mentioned it…
Talk to me that way, and you may never talk to me again.
I closed my eyes in agitation.
I’m not one of your whores, Talon.
I know. I apologize, Khazmuda. I’m just…frustrated.
With Calista, I assume?
Yes . I took another drink.
Why does she frustrate you?
Because she’s fucking stubborn. I set the glass on the table and stared at the flames. I hadn’t left the castle since I’d returned from the Arid Sands. It was nice to be home, but I missed the skies, I missed the wind in my face as I rode upon my powerful dragon.
And you aren’t?
I smirked at his taunt. It’s not the same.
How has she been stubborn?
I didn’t talk about this sort of thing with Khazmuda. We discussed everything, but my private life had always been off the table. As close as we were, a conversation like that would be awkward. I want her…but she refuses me.
Why does that bother you? Move on.
It bothers me because I still want her.
Why want a woman who doesn’t want you? I would never desire a dragon if she didn’t desire me too.
Because I think she does desire me…but won’t allow herself to have me.
If that were true, then there would be no reason for her to reject you. Khazmuda understood my words, understood my emotions, but since he was a dragon, he only understood the world in a literal sense. Some of my thoughts were inexplicable to him because he was a different species.
It’s complicated… She’s scared.
She’s the most fearless woman I’ve ever met.
I’d felt no pity for her when I’d discovered her year-long enslavement to General Titan. I didn’t care that she’d been a prisoner for seven years in the desert. But that changed once I saw the depth of her scar tissue. She’s scared after what General Titan did to her.
Now, Khazmuda seemed to understand because there was a long pause. I understand now.
It’s an obstacle I can’t climb. It’s a foe I can’t defeat.
Khazmuda was quiet for a long time. You said she’s scared.
Yes.
Then make her feel safe.
I don’t know how to do that. I had no idea how to comfort a woman who’d suffered such a horrible fate, who’d been imprisoned to a vicious man with no escape.
You do, Talon.
I stared at the fire.
Because you made me feel safe.
I walked into her bedroom the following night, seeing the boards over the windows she hadn’t tried to remove. It seemed like she’d learned her lesson after she’d almost died in her last escape attempt, but I’d doubled the guards in this sector just in case she was stupid enough to try.
She was asleep on the couch, the book she was reading flat on her chest.
I stood there and stared, seeing how pretty she looked when her eyes were closed. Her face was relaxed, her lips were slightly parted, and her cheeks were a little rosy from the low-burning fire. The flames were about to burn down to simmering coals, so I placed another log on top, watching the hot ash erupt into the air.
I turned back to her, wondering if the sound stirred her, but she was still dead asleep.
Just before I decided to leave, she repositioned herself, the book sliding off her chest and hitting the floor.
The nightgown she wore had risen up her thighs, and when she opened her knees, the dress parted in the perfect way…showing her panties.
Her white panties.
I stared like I’d never seen up a woman’s dress before, like I’d never seen flesh so soft and fair, seen dark hair poke out from the material over her pelvis. I preferred a woman with a bare honeypot, but I didn’t mind the hair at all.
I stood there for minutes, just staring, my pants snug in the crotch.
I knew I should return to my bedchambers and pretend her pussy was in my palm, but I was desperate for the real thing, the tightness, the slickness. I was desperate for her to feel good, to know that sex could be the best damn thing, to quiver and moan for me in a way she’d never forget.
I stayed put, my breathing elevated, my eyes locked on the panties that would feel so soft against my fingertips.
I’d asked her to consider me—and now I would make her consider me.
I kneeled on the rug beside her and pushed the book away. My body leaned over hers, and I rested my arm on the armrest just above her head. Her hair was a mess on the pillow that supported her head. With deep and even breaths, she breathed like she had no idea I was there.
My fingers gripped the fabric of her dress and pulled up…gently. It slowly rose over her body, sliding up her legs until her panties were in full view. I pulled until the material became snug at her belly button.
She continued to sleep, oblivious to the air that touched her previously covered skin.
I stared at her flat stomach, my mouth dry in desire, my breathing elevated with both adrenaline and arousal. My hand came close to my face, and I licked my fingertips, my cock twitching in my boxers because the excitement made me rock hard.
My fingers touched her soft belly, gently traveled down, and then slipped underneath the waistband of her crisp white panties. They looked brand-new, like she’d slipped them on after a warm shower. My fingers were immediately enveloped in the heat trapped in the cotton. I slid across the soft curls and inched closer to the nub I was desperate to touch. It became warmer the closer I drew near.
My fingers landed on her nub, and I gave a gentle push, feeling my breath release like I’d been holding it.
She instantly arched her back but stayed fast asleep.
I gently rubbed her, watching her face for a reaction, wondering if she would wake up or come in her sleep.
She shifted and moved every few seconds, and she even pressed her pelvis back into me.
My fingers rubbed her in a circular motion, pushing harder with my fingertips, wanting to watch her come against my hand.
Her breathing increased. Her knees came apart. She started to grind against my hand.
I leaned farther over her, our faces close together, my hand applying more pressure, her body moving with mine.
She gave a moan, and the sound of her own pleasure seemed to pull her from sleep. Her eyes opened, landing directly on mine, her hips still automatically grinding into my fingertips. This was the moment I expected her to shove me off and lunge at my throat, but she was either too anxious to come or thought this was all a dream.
Her cheeks were tinted red in desire, and her eyes were both sleepy and desperate. It was a different look from her rage and her defeat, making her look like a whole new person. This was her, without the walls and the suspicion, without the trauma and the scars.
My head dipped, and I caught her lips.
Her lips parted and accepted my hot kiss like her mouth was just as hungry. Her hand even dug into my hair and fisted the strands, her hips grinding into my hand, her wetness seeping from her folds and covering my fingertips, soiling her clean panties.
I hadn’t been this turned on in a long time.
When her hand trailed down the nape of my neck and clawed at my back as her tongue speared into my mouth, I knew she was there. We panted into each other’s mouths like we were fucking rather than touching and kissing. Her pussy kept pushing into my hand like she wanted more, another shove to get off.
I kissed her hot mouth as my fingers worked together to apply all the pressure right against her nub, my mouth taking her desperate kisses and giving her my tongue. The flames warmed my back and heated up the room to a sweltering temperature.
Her kisses halted, and she suddenly gripped me tight.
I pulled away to look at her face, to watch the moisture form in her eyes as the pleasure seeped into her bones. My dick was about to explode from my pants and dive into the pussy that was primed for me.
She started to moan, a quiet whimper, a croak from her throat because she’d been dead asleep just minutes ago. But her cries broke through the rasp of her dry throat, and she came against my fingers, bucking against me, her nails digging deep into my flesh as she gripped my arm.
When her mouth opened with a moan, I wanted to shove my dick inside. Make her choke and cry. But I let her finish, let her enjoy how good it felt before I thought about myself.
When it passed, she took a deep breath and looked into my eyes. The moisture started to fade as well as the sleepiness. The longer she stared, the harder her gaze became, as if she was slowly realizing what had just happened.
I pulled my fingers out of her panties.
Alarm jumped into her face, and she bolted upright, hitting the back of the couch as the panic took hold. “What the fuck?”
She must have thought the whole thing was a dream.
She panted as she stared at me with furious eyes. “What the fuck?”
I leaned back, still on my knees on the floor, my fingertips slick from her little nub. “You liked it when you thought it was a dream, so what does it matter if it was real?”
“It matters because I had no say in the matter!”
“You liked it.”
“That’s beside the point?—”
“You kissed me, and you liked it.”
“Fuck. You.”
“I’ve given you a reason to consider me.”
“Get the fuck out.” She climbed over the armrest to get to her feet, using the piece of furniture to separate us.
I was harder than I’d ever been and so desperate to take her on the bed, to hold her down so I could show her I could make her feel good all over again. Her hips would rock with mine and she would cry, but they would be tears of pleasure, not pain. But I restrained myself, knowing it would get me nowhere when she was upset like this. “I’m not sorry.”
She fixed her dress as she backed away. Her arms circled her chest.
“You liked it, so I’m not fucking sorry.”