Page 27 of Storm of Blood and Shadow

He plunges from the edge of the cliff and wings away into the night. I curl up on the grass mattress on top of the flag, using my dress as a blanket, and I wait for him.

A soft, pulsating thrill stirs in my belly. Something thick and slippery is stroking between my legs, gliding wetly over my clit. I moan softly and move my thighs apart so I can feel that slick, huge tongue better…

My eyes fly open. I must have tossed away the dress in my sleep—I’m lying naked on the bed. The black dragon’s face hovers between my legs while his tongue slides through my wet folds.

“What are you doing?” I exclaim.

“You said I could taste you again later.” He returns to licking me enthusiastically.

“Shit…” It feels so good that I relax in spite of my surprise. “That’s not exactly what I… mmm… if I’m sleeping you should really… you shouldn’t… oh god, that feels amazing…”

I’m no better than the other girl, the one who lives in the blue dragon’s cave. Apparently I’m just as vulnerable to dragon tongue as she is.

Or maybe I’ve spent so many years being bright, being strong, maintaining my place in the troupe, supporting the people I care about, that when it’s finally all gone, it’s a relief. Being taken care of like this feels like a luxury, even though I’m lying on a flag, on a pile of grass, in a dragon’s cave.

It’s not such a bad place, after all. The rocks he heated radiate a warm golden glow, and the air smells floral and fragrant from the hundreds of spring blooms the dragon piled along the edges of the cave. I don’t know how long he spentcollecting the flowers. No wonder he seemed exhausted when he came to dinner.

Back home, my bed is a narrow couch in the living area, so that everyone else can have a decent place to sleep. I never told anyone in the troupe how my living conditions had declined. I didn’t explain why I never invited them over to my suite anymore. The seventeen months of the war provided a good excuse, of course, but truthfully, I lost my fine rooms long before that.

Anxiety about the children creeps into my mind. Are they fed? Are they safe? Does Lark have enough sense not to steal from the wrong person? Will Ethalie have the strength to carry her little ones through this time of turmoil? Will their father finally do something useful? Will Bryon learn to protect the family instead of exacerbating everyone’s worst qualities?

I realize that my eyelids are scrunched tight, my limbs locked with tension. Opening my eyes again, I consciously relax and watch Varex’s graceful snout, the glint of his teeth, and the swipes of his glistening tongue. His lashes are long, a thick fringe to protect his eyes when he’s flying. He blinks, his gaze lifting to mine. His eyes are such a deep, rich, luminous orange, so clear and lovely that I can barely breathe. Deep at the center of his vertical pupils is a faint purple glow, a hint of the lightning that encases his void magic.

Whatever he sees in my eyes must please him, because he says, “Darling,” and pauses the coaxing of his tongue to nuzzle the center of my chest. I lift both arms and hold his face, my hands gliding along his glossy scales.

“Don’t call me that,” I whisper. “I’m not your darling.”

Varex chuckles and lowers his muzzle between my thighs again. “Darling.” His tongue slithers over my clit, and I lift my hips impulsively.

“Darling,” he says again, before burying that naughty, slippery tongue in my body. He tastes me deep, deep, so deep my eyes roll back, and then he withdraws his tongue to say, “You need a constant rhythm, yes? Like the rhythm with which you stroked me.”

“Yes,” I breathe, and he begins tongue-fucking me, gleeful and merciless, thrusting in, withdrawing for a quick lash of his tongue across my clit, then entering again. The constant rapid stimulation drives me swiftly to the maddening edge, until I’m muffling my own screams, one hand clamped over my mouth. My other hand finds one of his curved front claws and grips it, anchoring myself while I twist and strain and fight for the orgasm. His tongue thrusts and darts faster over my pussy, demanding my pleasure.

When the climax finally comes, it’s worth the heat and the struggle, worth every sobbing gasp, worth the swollen sensitivity of my flesh. A surge of my wetness bathes the dragon’s muzzle, and he relishes it all.

“I’m done now,” I whimper, turning over on my belly. “No more tonight, please.”

He gives my ass one final lick. “If that is what you wish. But… may I rub my cock against your back? Would that displease you?”

I reach up and move all my tangled hair out of the way, leaving my entire back bare to him. “You may, as long as you promise to take me down to the cavern early in the morning so I can bathe.”

“I will.”

“Then do whatever you like to me.” I sigh, fully sated for the first time in ages.

Feeling the heat and bulk of the dragon settling over me is momentarily frightening, but he’s slimmer than many of the others, not quite so threatening in his size. I feel the hot, smoothlength of his cock press against my thighs, my bottom, my spine. He shifts back and forth, humping me like a dog in heat, his cock sliding firmly along my skin.

Unbelievably, I’m enjoying the sensation. Sometimes after an especially good performance, our troupe leader would take us all to a massage parlor to have our muscles thumped, heated, and pounded. I always felt wonderfully relaxed afterward. The rhythmic movement of the dragon’s cock along my back is different, but it’s similarly relaxing. His arousal slicks my skin, lubricating the glide of his length.

“Don’t come in my hair,” I murmur.

“Come?” he asks.

“When you come, you experience that sharp, sudden pleasure, and you release liquid, like before.”

“You mean my seed,” he says.

“Yes. It’s also called ‘cum.’ When you come, you release cum.” I hardly know what I’m saying… I’m far too relaxed and much too sleepy.

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