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When she makes a move to get up, I hold her in place. “Wait a moment. I don’t want everything I put inside you to spill out.”
“You’ll get to deposit more,” she replies. “Let me up. I have to piss.”
She asks me not to watch while she takes care of her physical needs, so I stand at the cave mouth and look out at the storm until she tells me she’s done.
When I turn around, she’s standing there naked, trying to straighten out her tangled yellow hair with her fingers.
“How does your hair always look perfectly sleek and silky?” she grumbles.
I lift a lock of it, frowning. “Is that not normal?”
“No, it’s not. I think it’s something Thelise did, a little perk she added to the spell. Maybe I can get her to work something similar on me, so I can have perpetually clean, perfect hair. Speaking of hair—I’m going to use that claw-knife to shave my legs and other parts. I used to do that at the palace, but I haven’t had a chance since you took me. I’m all hairy and gross.”
“I like you exactly as you are,” I tell her.
“Thanks, but this is something I do for me.” As she collects the knife, she looks up at me, notes the expression on my face. “What is it?”
“The claw-knife, as you call it, belonged to one of our dead. Such relics are revered, not generally used as tools. I said nothing when you used it for cooking, but this seems… disrespectful.”
Serylla surveys the claw and nods. “I see what you’re saying. I won’t use it if you don’t want me to.”
She’s being kind, thoughtful, and respectful, though I can tell she desperately wants to shave herself. I mull it over, considering that Tenebrix found his place in the sky months ago, and that, since he is one with the universe again, he won’t know or care what is done with his claw. Perhaps, in such times of upheaval and change, a small transgression might be allowed. Besides, the claw she has is not bone-tribute—there is no name carved into it. So it’s a spare that Jessiva found somewhere, which makes it more acceptable for it to be put to use.
“Go on,” I tell the Princess. “Tenebrix was a dragon with a ready laugh, always eager to hear a joke or try something new. I don’t believe he would mind.”
“Thank you.” She collects the bar of soap and sits down near the outlet of the stream. I watch, fascinated, as she soaps up her legs and armpits and shaves off the flecks of blond hair.
“You have a few new bruises,” I comment. “And I scratched your back. I’m sorry for that.”
“Don’t apologize! When you clawed me like that, it was exactly what I needed. As long as you keep it light and don’t go too deep, it’s fine. Now hush—I have to concentrate.” She parts her legs and coats her genitals with a film of soap before carefully shaving them as well. I hold my breath, terrified that she’ll hurt herself, but she appears fairly confident in the process.
“You’ve done this many times,” I comment.
“I could have had my maids do it,” she says. “But I always preferred to do such things myself.”
It’s strange—I was unbothered by the idea of her walking around naked on that first day, but now, the idea of anyone but me seeing her pussy sends a flare of hot jealousy through my chest. I don’t like the idea of her maids touching her there, and I hate picturing her with the two men she fucked before me. It’s a foolish, illogical kind of jealousy, one I must strive to curb.
“All done.” She rinses herself, parting the folds of her pussy and moving them casually aside as she washes away the soap and the bits of blond hair.
I swallow as my body tightens with sudden need. My heart thuds heavily, a compelling beat through my blood. My cock rises, thick and stiff. A hectic urgency constricts every muscle, roars in my brain, thunders in my chest.
Outside, lightning sears the night, turning everything in the cave blinding white for a moment. A boom of thunder cracks rock somewhere nearby, and Serylla cringes as stones go thundering down the mountain. At the same moment the rain picks up again, and the screaming wind flings sheets of it into the cave. The rain hisses against the dyre-stones, but it doesn’t quite reach the nest.
Serylla rises, picks up her white shift dress, and pulls it on over her head. I watch it curtain her lovely body, and I despise it for hiding her shape from me.
She walks over to the nest and hitches one leg up to climb in, presumably planning to sleep. The movement pulls the white fabric taut against the two round cheeks of her bottom.
And I lose my mind.
With a strangled cry of need, I pounce on her. My claws frantically gather the dress, shoving the fabric out of my way. Trembling with aching need, I push my cock into her slit.
The Princess yelps with the shock of my abrupt entry, but she doesn’t speak her three escape words, thank fuck. Even if she did, I’m not sure I could stop myself.
A thick groan escapes my throat as I plunge deep into her body. The way her luscious, wet insides tremble and clench around me—it’s the best sensation I’ve ever experienced. I can’t imagine that sex in dragon form feels this good.
I hold her by the hips and watch my cock glide in and out beneath the globes of her rear. Experimentally I tease the tiny puckered hole of her ass with the tip of my thumbnail while I fuck her, earning a breathy sigh of surprised delight as my reward. The tiny hole is for elimination, not breeding, but I’m fascinated with it, as I am with every part of her.
Tingling pleasure races along my cock with every fresh surge into my captive’s pussy. I’m shuddering, huffing desperate moans into the rain-washed air of the cave because I have never felt anything so perfectly, delicately exquisite—nothing this intensely delicious…
