Chapter 12 Theron
THERON
I watch her leave, her lush behind twitching and her broad hips swaying as she hurries down the street, headed in the direction of the temple of the Nature Goddess.
I can still taste her juices, salty/sweet, on my tongue…
can still feel her tight little pussy squeezing my fingers.
I can still see her spread out on my lap with her robe open and her beautiful, curvy body on display just for me.
Fuck—I can’t wait any longer. As soon as she rounds the corner and I can’t see her anymore, I bang the door shut and go back to the bed. I lay on my back, yank down my trousers, and take my shaft in my hand.
I’ve been aching for what feels like hours now—though I know it’s not that long. My Drake is aching too—and eager to be part of this. When I look down, I see it’s his shaft I have in my hand.
Long and thick, it’s covered with tiny silver scales and humped with ridges along the top and underside. The crown is almost as broad as my fist—difficult to fit into any woman who hasn’t been properly prepared first.
Not that I’ve ever let a lover see this part of my Drake—I keep him hidden as much as possible since most people fear him.
But also, he’s never shown this kind of interest in a woman before.
None of my lovers has ever gotten much of a response from him.
But when I was near Elowen, I felt his interest—and the immediate feeling of possession and ownership flowing from him.
You have to be careful with dragons—they’re prone to hoarding, especially when they think something is precious. And the feelings I’m getting from my Drake right now tell me he thinks Elowen is more than precious.
I wonder if he thinks that because her pale blue eyes are like sapphires and her curly red hair is as shiny as rubies. But when I have that idea, I feel a rumble of negation from him. Elowen is precious because she’s ours, he lets me know—she must be kept safe at all costs.
This surprises me even more. My Drake is what they call an “Ash Drake” or a “Clouded Drake.” Meaning his scales are tarnished and he doesn’t have the ability to express himself or speak his thoughts and feelings which can make him dangerous because he can’t be reasoned with.
These feelings of possessive protectiveness I’m getting from him about the curvy little priestess are the clearest I’ve ever gotten from him.
“You really like her, huh?” I murmur, still stroking the thick, scaly shaft in my hand.
I get back a single word from him.
MINE.
Fuck. I stop stroking for a moment. He talked—he actually spoke! All my life I’ve been ashamed of being a second-class Shifter—one tied to an Ash Drake. But somehow being with Elowen—even though I didn’t actually fuck her except with my fingers—has made the being inside me able to talk.
Well, he said one word—but that’s more than I’ve ever heard from him before.
What is it about the little priestess? What’s so special about her?
I don’t speak this thought aloud, but my Drake apparently hears it. I get back a picture from him of Elowen looking up with her pale blue eyes and her soft pink lips. Then I get another picture of her spread across my lap, panting and needy and me pumping my fingers deep in her tight pussy.
Fuck…I close my eyes and start to stroke the huge shaft again. Even though it’s my Drake’s, we share the pleasure—just as we share it when I stroke my own shaft.
I jerk off thinking of the little priestess moaning for me as I sucked her nipples and made her come.
I come with her name on my lips and as I shoot burning hot seed across my belly, I wonder if I’ll ever see her again.