“Oh yes,” I coo as hard tingles start shooting down my body, “that’s much better. To you I must seem as light as a feather.”
“As light as an Earth woman,” he says. “Not the most famous of proverbs, but it’ll get there.”
We sit there for a minute. I was hoping Vyrathion would get it and maybe take charge, but he’s an alien and he may have no clue about seduction. I was never the best flirt. I guess this is new to both of us. I may have to get more obvious.
“My dress is still damp,” I tell him, as butterflies take off in my stomach. “Should I maybe take it off?”
The hard twitch of something right under me is answer enough.
“Yes,” the dragon says with a new rasp to his voice. “I was going to command you to, but apparently you see the necessity yourself.”
I take hold of the hem of the dress and try to wriggle out of it, but the humid dinosaur skin clings to me and resists the movement. “Can you maybe…”
Vyrathion sees the point. He grabs the shoulder parts of the dress and yanks upwards. The dress still refuses to slide much, so the effect is that he lifts me off his lap and makes me yelp.
“Hmm,” he ponders. “Did you glue it on?”
I half dangle from his hands, my head inside the dress where my chest used to be. “No. Set me down, please.”
He does, and using less force but more sliding, I manage to pull the dress over my head and hang it from one of the many branches and twigs inside this bonfire of a hut.
My underwear is also made from dinosaur parts, not tough skin but a finer, more silky material that I’ve always refused to be told the origins of. Those are also humid, and I’d love to take them off. But I’ve done my part for now. Let’s see if he will do his.
The dragon places two big, warm hands at my hips. Then he lifts me again, but much gentler and without yanking, just with immense, otherworldly strength. He lowers me to his lap again and sets me down with the softest touch I’ve seen from him. “I like you better when you’re warm.”
“Mhm,” I manage, because the way I’m sitting, the hardness in his pants hits me rightthereand it’s quite distracting. In the best way possible. “I’m still a little bit cold.”
He puts his arms around me and pulls me close, so that the hardness slides along my nearly naked crotch. “How about now?”
“Oh,” is all I can say because that touch set off some very interesting tingles.
He strokes one finger outside my stone-age bra. “I see what you mean. This is still not dry.” He moves the other hand further down and pinches the not-panties where they cross my hipbone. “And here! Terribly wet still. Yes, rain water is hard to dry. Everyone knows that. I think it should all come off.”
“How about your pants?” I stroke along one of his massive thighs, noticing that they’re dry. “They’re wet, too.”
“They’re not,” he growls, “but perhaps they would look just as good just hanging there.”
“We should check.” I get to my feet and watch as the huge dragon tries to take off his tight, silver pants in this small space. It’s a battle with many interesting sights until both his black boots and long pants hang in front of the entrance. And the dragon is naked.
The breath sticks in my throat. Because of all the things I’ve ever seen in my life, this has to be the most memorable.
The gold seams continue down his legs, and the outline of scales makes him both alien and irresistible.
My gaze drops lower, and my mouth goes dry. His cock is... not human. Thick, ridged, and longer than anything I’ve ever imagined, it rises from a base that flares with subtle, flexible scales. A faint, golden shimmer runs along pulsing veins that seem to shift and ripple under the skin.
Two smaller, tentacle-like tendrils curl gently at the sides, already reaching toward me as if they have a mind of their own. The head is broader and tapered, with a soft ridge that promisesfriction in all the right places. It twitches under my stare, a bead of iridescent fluid glistening at the tip.
“Vyrathion...” I whisper, equal parts awe and hunger.
He steps closer in the cramped hut, the rain drumming a wild rhythm on the leafy roof. One large hand cups my cheek, surprisingly gentle despite the raw power thrumming through him. “I will be careful, little female. Tell me if it’s too much.”
I nod, heart hammering, and reach for him. My fingers barely circle his girth. The scales are warm silk over steel, and the tendrils stroke my wrist with feather-light touches that send sparks straight to my core. He growls low, a dragon’s rumble that vibrates through my bones, and kisses me deeply. His tongue teases mine with that same careful restraint.
He lowers me onto the soft pile of leaves. His hands make quick work of my remaining garments, peeling it all away until I’m bare beneath him. Cool air kisses my skin, but his heat chases it away as he settles between my thighs. Those tendrils explore first— one circling my clit with slick, rhythmic pulses while the other teases my entrance, coaxing wetness from me in eager waves.
“Oh…,” I moan, hips arching, wanting the full experience.
Vyrathion watches my face as he positions himself. The broad head presses in slowly, stretching me with a delicious burn. The ridges catch and drag, each one sending jolts of pleasure deeper. I gasp, nails digging into his scaled back, and he pauses, breathing ragged.
