Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 84949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
There's a sound like a broom sweeping over floors.
I look over at the dragon, even though I swore to myself I wouldn't. He's in the same curled up position he was before, except now, his tail is swishing back and forth over the concrete—the sweeping sound I heard. And his eyes are slits.
Golden slits.
That's encouraging. I touch my clit again, gasping as I do, and stare right at the dragon as I finger myself. I slide my finger lower, testing to see if I'm wet. My folds are slick with moisture, more than I've ever managed before, and I drag some of it back to my clit, circling around it with a wet fingertip. Hot need is building through my body, and I forget all about Mhal as I close my eyes and continue to rub myself, working my pussy. I've never had the leisure to take as much time as I want, so I do that now. When I get close to the edge, I skim away from my clit, teasing down to the entrance of my core, where I'm warm and slippery. I stroke a finger inside myself, and it feels good, but not as good as touching my clit, so my hand wanders back up there, to rub until I'm close to the edge again.
A scorching-hot hand touches my knee.
I yelp in surprise, rolling off the blanket and away, my hands covering my pussy. I sit up, shaking, and immediately feel stupid. I've been so focused on touching myself that I forgot where I am and why I'm doing it.
Sitting on the other side of the blanket is a big, golden man.
He watches me with hooded eyes that flare a deeper shade of gold than his skin, black swirling around the edges as if waiting to creep back in. He kneels on the floor, his big body lean and somehow arrogant, his hair a thick, wild tangled halo that floats around his head and shoulders.
"Mhal," I breathe, fascinated. "It's you."
It has to be him. He shifts his lithe body, turning to face me. He's taller and leaner than the other dragon-men that I've seen, with an arrogant cast to his face. His features are long, his nose large and his cheekbones high. It gives him a haughty look, one that's intensified by the small scars on his face. He's got the four parallel scars tracing across his ribs in his human form like he did in dragon-form, and he's…very naked. I avert my gaze from that part of him as it seems rude to stare at his dick. As I study him, he moves forward on hands and knees, slinking toward me.
I'd say that he's crawling, but it feels more like a predator slithering towards his prey.
And I'm his prey.
14
JENNY
“Hi," I manage. "I'm Jenny. Do you remember me?"
He says nothing, leaning over me, his thin nostrils flaring as if breathing in my scent. His face is right in mine, his breath brushing over my skin, and I do my best to remain completely still. I'm afraid if I move too quickly, he'll shift back into dragon form and all the progress will be gone.
"I'm going to take that as a no," I whisper. "But you must know me a little. Or you know my scent at least."
Mhal sniffs me again and then looks right at me, our noses practically touching. His gaze locks onto mine, his expression searching.
I fight against a wave of shyness and uncurl my hands from between my legs. I need to do something instead of sitting here like a lump. Hesitant, I reach one hand out toward his face. He touched my cheek in my dreams, so maybe he'll let me touch him now?
The dragon-man immediately grabs my wrist, his eyes flaring black. He stares at me for a moment, his expression accusing, as if I've violated some sort of personal space rule.
"Sorry," I whisper. I wiggle my fingers a little. He's not holding me tightly, and I don't think he means to hurt me. "I'm just trying to figure you out."
Mhal's nostrils flare again, and gold floods back into his eyes. He gazes at my fingers, and then licks them clean.
Okay.
That is dirty, and wrong…and so damn hot. I suck in a breath.
Mhal licks my fingers again, then takes one into his mouth and sucks on it, a look of sheer bliss on his face as he violates my hand. His grip is loose on my wrist—I could pull away at any moment. I just don't want to. I'm fascinated by his response, and by the way he looks so deeply aroused by my scent. I've never had a man suck on my fingers before, and it feels weird at first. When his tongue slicks against my skin, though, I swear I feel it between my thighs.