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Every moment of today, he’s done that.
When I needed to let go, he was commanding and firm, taking everything off my shoulders and carrying it himself, right down to all the little details. But now, when I’m all up in my feelings, he’s gentle.
Earlier he was the fire-breathing dragon who captures the princess and takes her to his lair. Now, he’s the lonely beast who curls around me and wants to horde me for himself.
I whimper at the swell of emotion, at how much I want this to last.
“Don’t let me go. Please, don’t let me go.” I repeat it over and over, like a mantra, like a prayer, like a petition to a king. “Don’t ever let me go.”
He nuzzles his cheek against mine. “I don’t intend to.”
Conquering my lips in a kiss that builds, he pulls me out of the fear and anticipatory grief I was spiraling into. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, and I want to moan, but can’t. I feel it in my nipples and on my clit, the sensation too much and not enough.
Quickly, he breaks away, pulls out of me, and stands beside the couch. “On your knees.”
I scramble to comply, knowing this is what I need.
“Taste yourself on my cock.”
I’ve never done anything like that before. The thought of tasting myself never even crossed my mind. But his command is like catnip to my pussy. I lean over and wrap my mouth around him, taking a long draw.
I bob on his cock, and he digs his hands into my hair. He tugs gently, guiding me in the rhythm that he wants. I relax completely into his grip. His palm at the back of my head holds me still as he thrusts into my mouth. I don’t have to do anything, just enjoy him. Enjoy the way he uses my mouth for his pleasure. The way he claims me.
When his muscles start to shake, he yanks my hair, pulling me off of him with a pop.
“Crawl for me,” he commands. “To the ottoman.”
I put a little extra sway in my hips as I turn my ass towards him and crawl on my hands and knees across the room to the brown leather ottoman in front of the window.
Looking over my shoulder, I see him watching me with that hungry flicker in his eyes. As soon as I reach it, he’s behind me again. He takes my hands and gently places them on the top of the leather. Then he spreads my legs, pulling my dress up to my waist.
His shaft rubs between my legs and against my clit, then invades me from behind. Thrust after punishing thrust makes my brain finally go blank. He pounds into me and the room vanishes, my thoughts quiet. With one hand, he works my clit, with the other he fondles my breasts, trading back and forth between the two.
“That’s it, my queen. Give yourself over to me.”
The rhythm becomes all-encompassing. Pulling me deeper into my body, into sensation, into the present moment. With each penetrating thrust, I surrender more, letting him play my body, existing in this moment without anticipating what’s next, or having an agenda. Just sensation. So much sensation.
“You’re mine,” he roars.
High on my own endorphins, I believe him. My muscles tense and spasm. I fly apart as I orgasm. Soar into something so primal, so feral the room goes white. The roar of my blood in my veins is a wind, chasing everything away.
He keeps up his pace, carrying me higher and higher until I’m flung out of my body.
I cry his name, and he hums his approval. He slams into me as I climax, cock dancing against my g-spot, sending me into a second wave of pleasure.
“That’s my girl. Take my cum. Take all of it.”
His arms band around my waist, holding me tight. The firm pressure anchors me to my body as I'm carried through wave after wave of bliss.
As soon as I fully relax, he pulls out of me, scoops me into his arms, and carries me up to his bedroom. The one where I changed earlier.
He stops momentarily in front of the fireplace, opens his mouth, and breathes fire into the grate. It bursts into bright flames that make the gold fixtures in the room sparkle and shine.
He just breathed fire, but it doesn’t even faze me. What is this between us that makes me believe the impossible so easily? That makes me trust him even while seeing how dangerous he is with my own eyes?
Setting me down, so I’m facing the massive mirror, he steps behind me, holding me around the waist. We look good together. Like we fit. Even though he’s a dragon and I’m a human. Even though we come from entirely different circles and have completely different backgrounds and histories. Even though his hair is as white as a cloud and mine as dark as the night.
“Wait, how old are you?” I ask.
