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The room was very still as Smoky rested beside me. I stared at the ceiling, not knowing what to say.
"What are you thinking, love?" Smoky traced a finger down the side of my cheek, then bopped my nose. His eyes were luminous, glowing, and his words felt intimate in a way they never had before. Not just sexy-intimate, but heart-intimate.
I cleared my throat. What was I thinking? Good question. For one thing, I was starting to remember through my afterglow-hazed brain that he'd said something… something that… oh hell. I'm in love with you, Camille. And I choose you to be my mate. What was I supposed to do with that! Maybe if I ignored it, he'd forget he said it. Maybe it was just something he'd blurted out in the throes of passion. Didn't all men temporarily fall in love with the women they were fucking? Sex with Smoky had taken me beyond words, to a place I'd never been before. Hell, I could barely remember anything either one of us had said, let alone make sense of what was going on.
I pushed myself up, leaning back on my hands. My clothes were scattered around the room, along with Smoky's jeans and shirt. I stared down at my body, which was glowing with a rosy hue I seldom saw on my pale skin. Slowly, feeling almost shy, I turned toward him. Hands behind his head, he was whistling an aimless tune. His body was so long and lean and hard that he might be a sculpture. A sudden thought struck me, and I let out a giggle.
"What?" he asked, lazily squinting at me through half-closed eyes.
"I was just thinking, the David has nothing on you." It occurred to me that I'd be wise never to mention to Trillian just how well-endowed Smoky was, or I'd set off a testosterone war that wouldn't quit until one of them was dead. Size wasn't everything, but Smoky had both size and experience, and that would piss Trillian off to no end. But I wasn't complaining. That was for sure.
Smoky chuckled. "I'll take that as a compliment." He shifted, turning toward me, and ran a light hand over my thigh. My body responded, and I realized I was still hungry for him. As if he could read my thoughts, he reached for my hand. I hesitantly let him lead my fingers to his penis. With pent breath, I traced one finger down him, closing my eyes as the silky shaft responded to the touch of my hand. Within seconds, he was ready again and, with a low growl, grabbed me by my waist and lifted me astride his hips. As he stoked my fires back to life, I sank onto his hardened length.
We rose and fell in rhythm, matching pace, matching strides. He reached up to stroke my breast with one hand as his hair coiled around my wrists and braced my back to hold me steady and give me balance and strength.
Once again, I slid into the slipstream of his passion as we rode the storm.
"We'd better get dressed. You have an appointment with the Crow Lady," Smoky said, leisurely rolling out of bed. He might as well be smoking a cigarette, he looked so relaxed. A gilt mirror on the wall captured my reflection, and I blinked—talk about looking relaxed. I was oozing with that after-sex glow that infuses every good tryst.
As I leaned over to pick up my skirt and panties, Smoky reached out and gave me a sharp smack on the butt. I whirled, on pure reflex, my hand whistling through the air before the thought occurred to me it might not be such a good idea. But Smoky was quicker than me, and before I could graze his cheek, he wrapped his hand around my wrist and held me firm.
"Camille…" A warning. I could hear it in his voice.
If it had been Trillian or Morio, I would have gone right ahead and dove headfirst into the fray. But then again, neither Trillian nor Morio would smack my butt, not unless I wanted them to. They knew better.
I gazed into Smoky's face. Time to backpedal. Fast. The old standard about gorillas worked for dragons, too. Where do you let an eight hundred pound gorilla go? Anywhere he wants. What do you do if a two-ton dragon spanks you? Say, "Thank you very much."
But being me, I couldn't just let it drop. "Why the hell did you slap my ass? That sure wasn't a love pat. Do you get off on spanking? Because I don't. Well… at least not usually." I tensed, waiting, but he just laughed.
"Just a reminder for you to behave yourself. For now, you're my consort, and you will behave as such. Don't forget it. Now get dressed, and I'll fix you something to eat. There are… amenities… behind the screen," he added, pulling on a long white robe that I'd seen him wear around the land.
Cripes. I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Best to leave it alone. Maybe I'd just wait till I got home to remind him that it wasn't considered good manners to smack your consort on the butt that hard unless you were both into playing yes-sir, no-sir. Come to think of it, he probably was into it. Yep, once out that portal, I could say anything I wanted, but until then… he might not let me leave if I ticked him off.
He cleared his throat and whispered, "Braid." At that moment, his hair divided into three sections, and they began to plait themselves into the long braid I was used to seeing him wear.
"Man, that hair of yours can do just about everything, can't it?" I said without thinking.
He leisurely shrugged. "It's expedient. When we have more time, you can brush it for me."
I felt suddenly shy for some reason. "I'd like that."
"Let's just say my hair is a very vital part of me. Neither I nor it allow others to touch it. With the rare exception, that is," he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. Before he finished speaking, the strands had finished braiding themselves and hung straight, firmly woven. Smoky left the room, closing the door behind him.
As I watched him go, it occurred to me that while the reality had lived up to and overshadowed the fantasy part of life With dragon dude, I hadn't considered our interaction beyond the bedroom. Vaguely disconcerted, I picked up my clothes and tossed them on the bed.
I peeked behind the screen. There was a marble tub, but no sign of any running water. A toilet had been built over an odorless hole in the ground. The seat was spotless, ornately carved in polished oak. A bowl and matching pitcher sat on a vanity table. The pitcher was filled with rose-scented water, and soft, fresh towels were folded beside it, along with glycerin soap.
At least he was a good host. Since I could find no practical method of filling the tub, I took a sponge bath with a washcloth and soap.
When I emerged from the alcove, I found the bag containing my other clothing sitting on the bed. I shook out a long velvet gown, low-cut and black as the night sky, and slid into fresh panties, a Victoria's secret bra with the firmest support I could find, and the dress. I fastened the buckles on my ankle boots before peeking out of the bedroom.
Smoky was in the living room, waiting for me. His eyes slid over me, and he let out a slow breath. "Camille…" He swept me into his arms and met my lips in a delicate kiss. "You take my breath away," he whispered. "Is it any wonder I can't get you out of my thoughts?"
I swallowed the lump growing in my throat. Obsession was a scary thing. But it could also be a heady elixir, and Smoky's charm was a powerful spell. I felt like I was standing on a razor's edge, a web spun by three men, all of whom I loved—in one way or another—and I wanted each and every one of them in my life. Just neatly organized, not standing around beating their chests like some manic episode of Tarzan Gone Wild.
He tucked my hand in his and brought it to his lips, kissing each finger in turn. "Dinner is served," he said, extending his arm.
The lump in my throat began to melt as my reluctance began to slide. Would it be so terribly bad to be the consort of a dragon? Backtrack real fast, I thought. Playmate was one thing. Consort held far too many implications. I was a soldier's daughter, not some lady of the manor. Feeling distinctly out of place, I rested my hand on his elbow. He folded his other hand over mine, then escorted me through the door opposite.
