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“I’ve heard that dragons make strange sounds during mating, as well.” His voice comes from between my bent knees, and I gasp a little, startled by how quickly he moved into position. Other than the gleam of his yellow eyes, I can only see the faintest outline of his bulk in the dark.
“Be gentle, please be gentle,” I whimper. “No teeth, only your tongue.”
“Only my tongue,” he promises. His voice is so big, so deep, so rich with darkness and throaty fire that I quiver with anticipation. I grip my knees, holding my legs pinned back, trembling. Waiting.
His tongue slithers over my sex, and I lose my mind. A sharp cry of utter ecstasy breaks from my mouth.
He withdraws. “Was that wrong?”
“No, no, it was perfect. Do it again. Over and over. Oh fuck!” I gasp as his enormous tongue strokes me. It’s forked, god, it’s forked and it’s wriggling, probing along the lips of my sex, gliding along my slit. “God, yes… Taste me, play with me…”
I’m shaking, more alive with need than I have ever been in my entire life. I’ve had sex with men twice—once with a nobleman’s quiet, studious son whom I could trust not to boast about it, and once with the male servant of a visiting prince from the south. I regretted that second one. And I may regret this as well, but I’m not physically or mentally capable of changing my mind now. I want pleasure too badly.
His tongue withdraws again, and I whimper in protest. “Why did you stop?” Sudden uncertainty clutches my heart. “Do I taste bad to you?”
“You are the most delicious thing I’ve had the pleasure of savoring,” he says. “But I wanted to ask you to show me the part you spoke of. The small bud you mentioned.”
“My clit,” I whisper. “It’s here.” I place my fingertip on it.
His tongue flows along my pussy again, gliding up to the place I’ve indicated. He splits his tongue and curls the tip of one part over my clit, while the other part strokes me gently.
“Oh god,” I choke out.
His tongue vanishes. “You mention god frequently. What god do you worship?”
“This is definitely not the time for a religious discussion.”
“Very well.” He licks me again, a quick brush this time, and I vent a soft scream. I’m hypersensitive, sweating, agonized, starving for the climax. He keeps playing with me, licking and stroking until I think I will go mad, but I can’t get the pressure I need.
“Put your tongue inside me,” I plead. “Here. Please, here. Deep, deep.”
His tongue plunges into my entrance, writhing deep inside me. I scoot toward him, grip two of the spikes on his jaw, and pull myself right against his muzzle. With his tongue rippling in my core, and the ridge of his scaly lip pressed firmly over my clit, I come. It’s the crashing climax of a beautiful song, a crescendo of magnificent music, and I whimper with sheer breathless ecstasy while the dragon’s long jaws nestle between my legs and his tongue flexes inside my pussy.
He rumbles low in his chest, and the vibration races into my body through that glorious tongue, teasing out every last bit of pleasure from the orgasm. I’m left nearly senseless, entirely sated, and helplessly limp as his tongue emerges. He lifts his head, his yellow eyes shining down at me.
“I felt you tremble inside. I tasted the difference in your flavor when you reached the climax you spoke of—the orgasm. Do you feel comforted?”
“I feel amazing,” I murmur.
“Rothkuri said his female responded well to licking.” Satisfaction colors the dragon’s tone. “I’m pleased I found the right spot. We will do this often, to keep you docile.”
To keep me… docile?
I’m on my feet in a second—a little wobbly from the orgasm and the springy surface of the nest—but fury holds me upright. “We will not be doing this again. And it’s not some magic spell to make me docile.”
“But—”
“You had to ruin it, didn’t you? You couldn’t let me enjoy the moment, you had to say something horrible and condescending. I will never let you taste me again!”
The glow from the dragon’s nostrils intensifies. “I don’t understand why you’re angry.”
“Of course you don’t. You’re just a dragon.”
“Fuck, you’re impossible,” he snarls, and he vomits a sudden blast of fire at the ceiling of the cave.
I shriek and crouch down in the nest. His fire is hotter than normal—I can tell by the way my skin tightens immediately, by the way the rocks overhead continue to glow red-hot for several seconds. In that bloody light he is terrifying, his long neck and triangular head crowned by those two vicious horns.
“What do you want from me?” he bellows.
