Chapter 11
Carly
Desmon had set a thousand tiny little fires ablaze all over my body. My mind was reeling with need and desire, and I’d given up trying to resist him about a hundred nibbles ago.
I leaned back against the carved stone as he trailed kisses down past my belly button. He lifted his head, and when he licked his lips, I noticed he was no longer fully human. His tongue was forked! And his teeth were sharper than usual! They reminded me of his dragon’s.
But instead of worrying about whether he’d nick me, my brain insisted on imagining how that tongue would feel all over my skin. He dragged the sharp tips of his fangs down my body, and I shuddered. Who knew I had a thing for fangs! I was learning a lot about myself today.
My knees were already shaking when he lifted my ankle.
“Just one lick.” The words came out in a low rumble that had my arms covered in goosebumps.
I sure as fuck hoped it wouldn’t be just one. But I didn’t have the opportunity to say as much because Desmon chose that moment to cover my mound with his mouth and lick all the way from the opening to my clit.
I let out a squeak at the firm and ever-so-slightly raspy texture. It was not quite as rough as a cat’s tongue, but it still had some grip, and I felt everything. And to my utter delight, Desmon had indeed lied about just one lick. He started to lap up my cream like he was starving.
The sexiest part was that he was clearly enjoying every moment as he savored me. He wasn’t lowkey wondering when he could stop. This was what he wanted to do, where he wanted to be.
Then, he put the forked tip of his tongue to use. He swirled it around my clit, each fork moving expertly, applying pressure to both sides, sometimes twisting and other times squeezing. Thick fingers found my entrance, dripping with wetness, and plunged in—first one, then two.
It wasn’t long before I was gripping his hair and biting my lip as the pressure built. The moans echoing through the spacious, luxurious bathroom were shameless and wild, and I dimly realized they came from me.
Desmon lifted his head, but continued thrusting his digits into her. “So beautiful. One more,” he coaxed. “Can you take one more for me?”
Oh, god! As if two thick fingers weren’t enough.
He lowered his mouth to me again, even as a third finger pressed into my tight hole. I was so full. Molten heat started in my core and began to spread. All it took was several more twists of his talented tongue and I was spilling over the edge. I screamed, my pussy creaming all over his hand.
“Such a good girl.”
He reached up to thread his fingers through my hair and firmly pulled me toward him as he captured my lips in a needy kiss. I tasted myself on his tongue as I parted my lips and welcomed him in. He claimed every inch of my mouth and lips, and by the time he drew away I was panting with the need for more.
“You are the perfect treasure,” he murmured.
At least, I think that was what he said; my brain had yet to recover from my orgasm.
I was limp and sated as Desmon cleaned me up and turned off the shower. He walked me over to a little alcove in the corner, and a warm breeze blew over us from vents at the top and sides, drying us off.
Ooh, that was nice. I was now mostly dry except for my hair, but he still wrapped a warm fuzzy towel around me before doing the same with my head. He even managed to keep the towel in place, something I always struggled with.
“Don’t move,” he said, sitting me on another rock carved in the shape of a seat.
He returned with a hair dryer, plugged it in, and started drying my hair. I hadn’t been coddled like this before, and I rather liked it. Not to mention, Desmon had a magical tongue, and I wanted more of it.
With my hair mostly dry, Desmon poured shimmering, gold-colored oil into his hand from a bottle that looked like it should hold rare, limited-edition whiskey instead of skincare products and started massaging it into my skin. It smelled absolutely divine, a heady mix of musk and florals that somehow remained masculine.
The gold flecks in it melted into my skin and made it shimmer. I closed my eyes and moaned blissfully as he smoothed the oil over my shoulders.
Desmon replied with a soft growl. “Later, My Treasure, I will give you a full body massage.”
My heart raced at the endearment, even as a little voice in my head started screaming about red flags and things being too good to be true. I knew I should listen to it and heed the warning. But forget that. Right now, I really just wanted to enjoy myself.
Earlier, self-doubt had had me spouting all that negative self-talk about my body I’d promised myself I’d never say again. The thing is, at the end of the day, I liked my body. It wasn’t perfect, but it served me well. I just would have never thought someone like Desmon would too.
The way he’d shot that down so quick had me falling for him even more. And that was beyond terrifying!
But instead of freaking out, I tried to channel my inner calm. Back in New York, my coworkers had marveled at how chill I was and how I could stay calm and collected, even that time some guy decided to take a crap right in the museum foyer. I’d turned keeping my cool into an art.
I hadn’t always been like this. When I was younger I had a personality to match my blazing red hair and enough nervous energy to set a field on fire. I’d spent my entire childhood and teenage years trying to control things I couldn’t control, and managed to make myself sick in the process.
Then, in the last year of college, I’d had a meltdown from a group project gone wrong—incompetent idiots, the lot of them—before deciding none of it was worth messing up my health over, and I was killing myself with stress. When I graduated, I promised myself, things would change.
The fact that my old coworkers knew me as a calm, collected type meant I was doing a great job at fooling everyone else, even if on the inside, I was still an anxious, angry mess. My therapist friend Dana, whom I’d met at a pottery class on campus, said it all came from being moved place to place as a kid, only ever staying just long enough to make friends before leaving again.
These days, I schedule time to freak out about things. Between 8 PM and 8:50 PM every night, when I was alone with no one but Q-Tip, I allow myself to complain all I want. During this fifty-minute bunny talk session, I go all out and call people all the mean names, and trust me, they get mean. But after today, I might need another one-on-one session with Dana. This was way above poor Q-Tip’s pay grade.
It wasn’t long before I found myself dressed in one of Desmon’s silky shirts and sitting in his library, telling a manticore, a wizard, and a dragon everything my two kidnappers had told me earlier today about the key and the mysterious dragon lady. By the way they reacted, they’d clearly dealt with this dragon before. They weren’t surprised one bit.
“I’m sorry I’ve put you in danger,” Desmon said.
“It’s okay. You didn’t know. Leonard had everyone fooled. He was so nice to me before. But I guess the danger is over now.”
Desmon shook his head. “Unfortunately, danger from the janitor isn’t what I meant. When I came to your aid, I inadvertently showed Gillisandra that you are worth something to me.”
My heart sped up. Not at the announcement that I was in danger from a freaking dragoness , but because he was admitting in front of Seth and Mateo that I was worth something to him, and therefore something was happening between us. For some reason, I still thought he would be hiding that part, keeping me his dirty little secret. But there was no embarrassment or apology in his words, just genuine concern for my safety.
“Dragons do not usually care much about the humans and monsters around them,” he continued. “A dragon’s normal reaction would be to leave anyone unimportant to their fate. And if it was possible that person could become a liability to their ongoing bets, the dragon wouldn’t hesitate to remove them from the equation. The fact that I came for you has now put a target on your back. I am sorry.”
Oh. I hadn’t looked at it that way, but I guess it made sense, if dragons were really as snooty as he said. Was he saying that he would have just let me die if I wasn’t anyone special? Did that, by extension, mean I was special, at least to him? My heart did that happy little flippy-floppy thing again, and I told it to calm down while I focused on a single word in his reply.
“What do you mean by bets ?”
Desmon exchanged a look with Mateo and Seth. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later. Suffice to say, from now on you will have to stay here with me.”
Woah! My mind reeled; everything was moving so fast. Desmon was trying to move me into his home? This was too much.
“I can’t—“
“I’ve already arranged for some of your things to be brought over,” Desmon said.
“Well, your clothes, laptop, toothbrush and spare glasses, anyway,” Seth clarified. “Everything else was a huge mess, but I figured we got everything you and your bunny would need for the next few days.”
“It’s for the best,” Mateo said. “Your apartment is not very secure. I would need to keep a guard posted there for your safety. It is much more comfortable here.” When I didn’t immediately agree, he added, “Besides, there’s glass all over your carpet.”
“I will send someone to clean that up,” Desmon interjected.
I narrowed my eyes at the three of them. They’d made all the decisions for me without even once asking for my opinion? I knew it was to keep me safe, but it still pissed me off. Just one, “Hey, it might get dangerous at your place, why don’t you stay here instead?” would’ve been nice. Suddenly, the whole go with the flow thing wasn’t working for me anymore. I put my hands on my hips.
“Did it occur to any of you to run this by me first?”
“That apartment is not acceptable. I will not permit you to live in such squalor.” It was impossible to miss the look of disgust on Desmon’s face.
Hey now! Did Mister High and Mighty just insult my apartment? I mean…yeah, it was in a shitty neighborhood…and it was a mess when he saw it…but I worked really freaking hard to afford that place.
“Well, in that case, Your Highness,” I said in my most saccharine voice, mock curtseying to Desmon, “I guess I’ll just go to the apartment mall and select a nicer apartment that better meets your expectations.”
To Mateo’s credit, he kept a neutral face…barely. Seth, however, cracked up.
“I like her!” he exclaimed with a sputter. “About time someone else besides me had the guts to sass you, Your Highness.” He slapped Desmon on the back.
Desmon did not look amused.
The door to the library opened and in walked an older woman with blonde hair scattered with white streaks and twisted up into a loose bun. She held Q-Tip in her arms.
“Q-Tip!” I skipped over to the woman, glad to have a distraction from being reminded that I was basically dirt poor. As long as I had my favorite bun, I was rich.
I held out my arms, but Q-Tip did not automatically leap into them. That was odd. He was usually horrible with strangers and was only a total momma’s boy with me. But he seemed perfectly happy to relax in this woman’s arms.
“Hello, my dear. You must be Carly. I’m Elana. And what did you just call your delightful rabbit?”
This must be Seth’s mother, the one who’d wanted to name my bunny Rabbit DeNiro.
“Q-Tip. It’s because his tail isn’t fluffy like a cotton ball. It’s more shaped like a cotton bud. So yeah…Q-Tip”
“Well, little Q-Tip is settling in very nicely. I have him set up in one of the rooms with some of your things. I called the ranch and had the stableman send over some of the gourmet blend hay he feeds Desmon’s stallions. Q-Tip loves it.”
No wonder Q-Tip wasn’t eager to jump back into my arms: he was getting pampered within an inch of his life and being treated like bunny royalty here.
“Come, I’ll show you your room.”
Well, if it wasn’t safe for me out there, and they were treating Q-Tip well, then I guess I was staying. I was still pissed off that Desmon had insulted my apartment, though.
I followed the woman to the second floor, where she opened the third door on the left. The room was elegantly furnished with a queen-sized bed, a sitting area with two chairs, and, most importantly, plenty of space for Q-Tip to roam. My cheap particle board dresser was sitting next to an ornate walnut armoire. Elana had set Q-Tip’s area up in one corner, and his favorite mushroom home was there along with his food bowl, water fountain, and litter box.
I grimaced at the hay and “raisins,” aka bunny poop, already on the nice rug she’d put down under Q-Tip’s enclosure to protect the floor. I guess they didn’t bring the sheets of linoleum over from the apartment. “That carpet’s going to get ruined.”
“That’s all right. It’s not one of the good rugs. I’ll let you get settled in.” She set Q-Tip down in his playpen, then gestured to a basket on the table. “Here are some personal care products I thought you might want while you’re here. The bathroom is just two doors down on your right.”
The basket held an assortment of items, including shower gel, shampoo and conditioner, a face cloth, feminine hygiene products, and a brush. There were also foil packets of what I recognized as beauty enchantment spells, basically instant makeup. I’d worn one for graduation. I’d looked spectacular but hated the way it felt.
“Thank you.”
“I’m so glad Desmon finally brought home a nice girl! He’s a good man and deserves someone special.”
She gave me a hug and swept out the door before I could correct her.