Page 48 of Princess Seeks Dragon

Chapter Fifteen: Flight

“Should I cook or something? I feel bad that I’m not contributing.”

“Don’t you guys have a cook?” Graham asks, flipping steaks in a cast iron pan.

“A maid, yes. A cook, no. My mom still loved to cook, and Ronnie said she was the greatest cook in the world. He liked to cook, too. They’d make big Sunday dinners every week, even if it was just for the three of us.” I finish setting the table and sit heavily in the chair. Working at the garden center is a good distraction. Looking at Graham is a good distraction. Thinking about what we did yesterday and might do again tonight is anepicdistraction.

But then there are these lulls in the action, and I picture my mother running from thugs with guns, or being tied to a chair like a damsel in some old movie. I wonder if Ronnie will go to jail one day and break my mother’s heart. Will she end up in prison, too, on some kind of aiding and abetting charge?

I picture them in tiny cells, never cooking together again. Never even seeing each other again, and a sob spasms out of my chest in a single harsh burst.

Graham is at my side in less time than it takes to reach for a napkin. “Love, what’s wrong?” he asks.

I appreciate the sweet, protective side that he shows, looking around like he’s challenging the whole world to make a move on his mate. “I’m worried about my parents. What might happen to them. I... I want to be mad at Ronnie for being in this mess, and I am, but I’m also more worried about the fact that if he gets caught or killed, it’ll break my mom’s heart. She had so little happiness until she met him. He worshipped her. He doted on me.” I wipe my eyes and let myself go limp against Graham’s shoulder as he scoots a chair close to mine and holds me. “You two are similar in some ways. You want a wife and family so badly. So did he. He had never been married before, never had a kid. It was like at sixty he got a whole new lease on life, and so did my mom.” My fingers curl into a fist and then slam on the table. “Fuck it. My running off ruined everything for them.”

“Wheest, woman, you have a big heart there, but let’s not throw out all sense. Your mum wouldn’t want you to be miserable to save her happiness. She wouldn’t be happy if you were in some paper marriage with a pretty boy who slept around. She already had a rough first marriage, isn’t that what you told me?”

I nod.

“Aye, well. She wouldn’t wish that on anyone, then. She’d want you to marry a man who would make you steak and jacket potatoes, then take you on a romantic sightseeing tour of the mountains.”

I perk up a little. “Sightseeing? Tonight? It’s already after seven.”

“Then it’s a good thing the steaks are done so we can be in the air by eight.”

“Oh, sure. I—wait, in the air?”

***

IWRAP MY TAIL AROUNDAngela’s waist, and this time, I can pick her up with it. I’m in my full dragon form once again, but this time, I’m not trying to hide it from her by turning in the middle of the night. This time, I lift her up gently and set her up high on my back, between my wings.

Angela shifts and shimmies on me, and I try to keep my thoughts on pure and innocent matters—but it doesn’t work. I can feel her gloriously curvy cheeks rubbing against my spine, feel her breasts on my back as she pulls herself into a comfortable position. I want to make love with my mate again. I want to feel her taking my cock and every drop of my cum like she did last night. If I breathe deep, I can still smell her arousal and my scent lathered all over her, the most powerful aphrodisiac ever known to dragonkind.

Finally, Angela finds a suitable spot, curled up between my wings and shoulders. “Oooh, I thought you’d be cool and cold, but you’re like a cozy blanket.”

“In this form, I do more than blow smoke; I can make fire. With a dragon, you’ll always have heat, a fire in the winter, a light in the dark.”

“You don’t have to sell me on you like some used car,” Angela laughs and rubs her fingers down my neck. She moans slightly, and I purr. “I love your scales.”

“That’s why you’re my perfect mate. Fools don’t appreciate them.” With a stretch of my neck and a beat of my wings, we rise. “Hold on and stay low. We’re not going to go too high—just enough to clear the trees.”

“Whoa, shouldn’t I have a saddle or reins or something?” Angela cries.

“The ridges that run along my neck might make good handholds,” I suggest, and Angela immediately clamps on.

It’s all I can do not to moan. The bony spurs she holds don’t usually feel soft, warm hands latched around them. She turns me into putty, this woman.

I’d best impress her so I can keep her.

***

“WE’RE GOING TO BUYthose aviator goggles when we land, okay?” Angela shouts over the rush of wind my beating wings create.

We fly low and slow, probably being mistaken for a small plane or hovering helicopter. “Goggles? Why?”

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