Morgan lowers the meat into her lap and studies me with the same expression she uses whenever she suspects I am being difficult on purpose. “And?”
“I had dragged him across three mountain ranges in order to wear him out, to make him tired. And he was. So the fight was short and fierce.”
Morgan shakes her head slowly. “And you killed him.”
I shrug. “Fights between dragons always end in at least one death.” My gaze drifts toward her before returning to the fire. “As opposed to mating, which both parties sometimes survive.”
She rips more meat off. “So that’s how you became Vyrathion the Wild?”
“I told another dragon about it, and so the tale of my victory was spread. I was not the first dragon to challenge Buparex, but I was the first to wake him up and then tire him out. The other dragons find it a wild idea. To me, it was simply necessary. I wanted his hoard. And I got it.”
Done with her meal, Morgan wipes her hands. “Even the gong?”
“Because of its role in that action, I keep it in a place where I may enjoy looking at it when I lie on my hoard.”
“The best decorations are those that mean something to us,” she states and gets to her feet. Then, to my astonishment, she comes over and sits down on my lap. “Now, wild dragon. I liked your story. And I like that you’re still here.” She traces the scales on my chest with one finger. “And I like that you brought me the fire and the meat. And I like what we did in the tree. Whatever you say, I know you liked it too.”
“I don’t deny it,” I state.
Her finger slowly slides down my front. “Now I wonder if we can do something that we both like.”
Force and hardness roar to my midsection. “Perhaps we can, Morgan the alien female.”
18
- Morgan-
I smile, heart racing, as my finger traces lower and presses against the massive bulge in his silver pants. Heat pools between my legs at the feel of him already so hard for me.
“Yes,” he growls, voice rough with desire. “We can do something we both like. Very much.”
I rise onto my knees, straddling his lap in the small, dry hut while rain pounds the leafy roof outside. With eager hands I help free his alien cock. It’s magnificent—thick, ridged, glowing faintly along pulsing veins. Those two flexible tendrils curl toward me, seeking my heat.
Bracing my hands on his broad, scaled shoulders, I position myself over him. Vyrathion’s large, warm hands slide under my butt, supporting my weight with effortless strength. “Careful, woman,” he murmurs, though his eyes burn with need.
I sink down slowly. The broad head stretches me open, ridges dragging deliciously against my slick walls as I take him inch byinch. A long moan escapes me. He’s so big, yet he fits perfectly, filling every empty place inside me until I’m seated fully in his lap, his flared base pressed tight against me.
“Ohhh… Vyrathion,” I gasp, trembling with pleasure.
His strong hands lift and lower me in a steady rhythm. I ride him, each descent sending sparks of ecstasy through my body as those ridges stroke every sensitive spot. The tendrils work their magic—one flicking rapidly over my swollen clit, the other teasing all around, heightening everything. Our wet sounds mix with the rain, loud and intimate in the tiny shelter.
I bounce faster on his lap, breasts jiggling with every thrust. He leans in, capturing a nipple with his hot mouth, sucking and grazing it until I cry out. The pleasure builds fast and intense. My nails dig into his shoulders as I chase it, hips rolling desperately.
“Harder, please…” I beg.
Vyrathion growls and drives up to meet me, hands squeezing my butt as he fucks me deeper. The coil inside me snaps. I come hard, walls clenching rhythmically around his massive cock, pleasure crashing through me in powerful waves. “I love you!” I shout, half delirious with ecstasy.
He roars something I can’t understand, burying himself deep as he follows. Thick, glowing spurts of his seed flood me, pulse after hot pulse, while the tendrils throb in time, drawing out my orgasm until I’m boneless and gasping against his chest.
We stay locked together, breathing hard. His hands still cup my butt possessively, holding me close as he presses tender kisses to my hair, my temple, my lips.
“Again?” he rumbles, already stirring inside me.
I smile, kissing him deeply, the rain still drumming steadily outside our little haven. “Yes,” I whisper. “Again.”
- - -
Vyrathion keeps caressing me and I never want it to stop.
