Chapter Seven
SEVEN
HUNTER
Hunter was delighted. He was thrilled to the tips of his toes. He was horny as hell, and now that he had an explicit all clear from Mabel, there was no way on earth he could refuse the lure of her eyes, and breasts, and those long, lush legs that he wanted wrapped around his hips.
“And so, we commence,” he said, wanting to strip her bare and bury himself in her heat.
She giggled, stepping back when he reached for her.
He froze, confused by her reaction.
“I’m not rejecting you,” she said, her smile growing as she stopped next to the bed. “I was laughing at the fact that sometimes your speech is so formal, like you were raised in the Middle Ages. It’s cute. I like it.”
“I was born almost five hundred years ago,” he allowed, wondering if she wanted to do a striptease for him, or if she’d prefer he disrobed her.
His penis, always interested when Mabel was around, headed straight for fully erect, making his trousers incredibly uncomfortable.
He ignored the discomfort to gently pull her up against his chest, the scent of her winding around him until it left him damned near drunk with lust. “You smell like spices.”
“That’s my deodorant. It’s ginger and carnation,” she said, breathless as he pressed kisses along her neck and jaw, drawing in her scent and committing it to memory. The feel of her tight against him just made his cock harder, but he ignored his baser needs in order to put her at ease.
It was clear to him that despite her bold talk, she was more than a little anxious about sexual intimacy, so he made a mental promise that he wouldn’t allow his desires to rush her.
Accordingly, he nibbled on a spot behind her ear that made her gasp and clutch his shirt, her legs buckling until he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her even tighter.
“Would you like me to strip you bare, then lick every square inch of you, or would you prefer to disrobe yourself, allowing me to watch as you expose yourself, teasing and tormenting me until I am on the verge of going mad with desire and need?”
Her resulting laugh turned to a moan of pleasure when he bit gently on a tendon in her neck, her hips moving against him in a manner that almost spelled his doom.
“I love that you talk during sex. So many men don’t want to, which is a shame, because I’m very much into communication. Oh, goddess, yes!”
He noted that she reacted enthusiastically to love bites along her neck and shoulders, and slid his hands up to cup her breasts.
“Sorry about those,” she said on an inhaled breath, her eyes misty with passion.
She pulled his shirt out from where it was tucked into his trousers, her hands sliding underneath the material to stroke a line of what felt like pure fire along his flesh.
“I inherited my mom’s hips, butt, and legs, but tiny boobs come from my dad’s family. ”
“I refuse to allow you to disparage these delightful morsels,” he said, growing emboldened when she arched her back, ensuring her breasts fit nicely into his hands. “They are perfect. They are warm. They are enticing. Do you mind if I ...”
He stopped speaking in order to whip her shirt off, a little surprised—and grateful—that she wasn’t wearing a bra.
“You can do anything you want,” she said on another moan when he bent over her breasts, his hands instantly possessing them, followed almost immediately by his mouth. She tasted like she smelled, spicy and sweet and so alluring she filled his mind. “So long as you let me do the same.”
“There are a few things I’d prefer you not do, but other than those, you may disport yourself upon me as you wish.”
“Butt stuff?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow when he helped her get his shirt off, followed almost immediately by his remaining clothing. “If so, I’m not into that, either.”
“I am relieved to hear that, since I am of the same mind.” He thought about stripping her, but felt it was better to let her set the pace. Instead, he took it upon himself to drive her wild by paying attention to her breasts and delectable belly. “Before we proceed, I feel obligated to ask—”
“I have an implant,” she said, and, to his utmost delight, did a shimmy against him as she peeled off her shoes and leggings, leaving nothing but a scrap of red fabric covering her woman’s parts.
“So we’re good there. Assuming you don’t have any venereal diseases, and I’m not sure if dragons can get them or not. ”
“There is a dragon variation, but it only strikes under extraordinary situations. Regardless, I do not have any diseases, dragon or otherwise. You will tell me if I do something that does not bring you to the trembling edge of a climax.”
“That’s a bold statement, but I’ll take you up on that,” she said with another laugh before peeling off her underwear, leaving him able to fully appreciate just how perfectly she was made.
“You are a goddess personified,” he said, taking a step back to admire her. “Perfection, in fact.”
She tried first to cover her woman’s parts, then her breasts. “I’m not anything even close to that, although thank you for the compliment. You’re pretty awesome, yourself. I particularly like your chest and arms.”
“Most women like my cock,” he said, returning to her breasts, his hands touching and teasing all the bits of her he could reach.
“And you are very goddess-like. Your breasts tempt me. Your hips sing a song that makes my nuts tighten. And your legs ... Christos, woman, your legs. Your legs haunt me at night. I want to touch them. To taste them. To wrap them around my waist while I thrust into you. I want to watch your eyes go soft and smoky as you find your pleasure. I want to feel you ride out an orgasm that makes you burst into song.”
“Deal,” she said, wiggling her hips against him, gently dragging her fingernails up first his ribs, then his back.
He shivered in unadulterated lust and passion and want ... until she cupped his cock, her hands soft, but her touch stirring his dragon fire, a fact that astounded him. No other lover had ever woken his fire.
“No,” he said, prying her hands off his cock. He sounded like he’d been gargling granite.
“No?” She looked down at him. “Are you that close?”
“Not yet, but I will be if you continue to touch me that way. And I wish to kiss my way up first one of your glorious legs, then the other, and finally, I wish to taste your essence.”
“Pretty talk,” she said, taking him by surprise by grasping his shoulders and pulling him onto the bed with her. “But action is better. So long as you let me have my turn kissing all of you.”
“I get to go first,” he said, feeling laughter rise within him. That was mildly shocking on its own—although he’d always enjoyed lovemaking, it wasn’t something that made him want to laugh. And yet, here was Mabel, amusing him with the wit that seemed as natural as breathing.
“Why?” she asked just before moaning when he took advantage of the fact that she had seated herself on his belly to pull her forward and capture one perfect breast in his mouth. “Holy hand grenades, Hunter! I hope you’re planning on doing the other boob because it gets jealous easily.”
“I would rather die than leave it unfulfilled,” he answered, his mind full of things he wanted to do to her, ways to make her moan and writhe with ecstasy.
He started making a mental list as she wiggled, her nails drawing intricate wards on his chest when he lathed his tongue over her nipples, driving the pressure inside him to burst out.
“So dramatic ... what ... Hunter! Did you just breathe fire on my boobs?” Her eyes were huge as she looked down at her chest.
He felt as stunned as was she. “Yes. I didn’t know that would happen. Ouroboros dragons aren’t often able to breathe fire, and seldom shift to dragon form, although my brother can do both. I will have to tell him—”
“Too many words!” she interrupted, bucking and twisting to slide off him. “Fire up my downstairs!”
He frowned for a second until he understood what she was asking, then obliged by moving so he could pull her silky, supple legs over his shoulders as he allowed the fire within him to spill out again.
She groaned, she clutched the sheets with both hands, and he swore her eyes just about rolled back in her head when he followed his fire with a finger sunk into her depths.
“You are so responsive,” he said, aware that he was perilously close to spilling his seed even without her touching him. “Would you like to try two fingers?”
“Yes!” she all but shrieked, thrusting her hips upward when he slid another finger into her. The feeling of her inner heat, and the muscles tightening around him, almost pushed him past what was bearable.
But this wasn’t about him, he reminded himself as he bent down to first breathe more fire on her woman’s parts, then taste her. For a reason he didn’t want to examine, his focus shifted from pure enjoyment, to ensuring that he gave her pleasure no other man could.
“You’re going to—oh my goddess, yes to the thumb, YES TO THE THUMB!—you’re going to push me over the edge if you don’t stop.”
“I want you pushed beyond anything you’ve known before,” he said, giving in to his desire to lick a fiery path along her thighs. He slid backward so he could move down her legs, past calves that were both feminine and extremely strong, down to her ankles.
“Wait!” she suddenly said in a near scream, sitting up.
He looked up from her ankle. “Did I hurt you? Was it my fire? You didn’t seem to suffer from it on your breasts, so I thought it would be fine elsewhere on you, although as I said, I’ve not had it show up with other sexual partners.”
“No, it’s not you, it’s ...” She hesitated, looking simultaneously aroused and wary.
“What?” he asked, badly wanting to get back to her legs.
She grimaced, then gestured past him. “I’m a ballet dancer. We have the world’s ugliest feet. I don’t want you looking closely at them.”