Chapter Sixty-Three – The Dragon’s Favorite Strays

Chapter Sixty-Three

MURR

The sounds Dakota makes when I touch her breasts are incredible. Her scent is everywhere, full of arousal and need, but still smelling uniquely like her – human. My fangs throb again, instinct reminding me that when I give her my bite, our scents will mix.

She will smell like she belongs to me.

The thought makes me growl with need. I bury my face in her breasts, pushing aside the strange band she calls a ‘sporsbra’ and reveling in her flesh. Her breasts are perfect, small handfuls with tight tips and her skin is so soft that I rub my face against them, fascinated. I need these loose and free every day so I can touch her constantly.

Dakota moans, dragging my head towards the tip of one breast and arching her back to offer it to me. I mouth her nipple, waiting for her reaction. She makes another one of those delightful sounds, and I cup one breast in my hand as I nibble on the other.

Definitely need more of this.

Her hands move over me, frantic to share in the pleasure. She tugs aside the kilt and reaches for my cock, then immediately draws back with a hiss.

The pleasure bubble bursts. I watch as she blows on her hand as if to cool it.

“God, you’re hot,” she says, a confused look on her face. “Why is your pre-cum boiling hot?”

I’d forgotten that our temperatures are so different. Her skin feels cool to me at all times, but I didn’t think mine would be unpleasantly warm for her. It’s another reason to give her the bite. I will share my fires and her temperature will change to match mine, to make her able to accept my body and my seed. How to tell her that without the touch of my mind to hers, though? “Bite…make good.”

She bites her lip, eyeing me. “You’re sure?”

I nod. “Bite…join us together. Murr blood, your blood. All good.”

Dakota thinks for a moment longer, then nods agreement. “I trust you.” She licks the now-cooling wetness from her hand and a strange expression crosses her face. “Why do you taste like cinnamon candy?”

I shrug, not knowing the words. “Bad?”

“The opposite of bad.” Her hand returns to my skin, playing at my thighs and hovering near my cock. She wants to touch me, but holds back for fear of getting burned. She trails her hand back up my chest, then to my jaw. Dakota studies my face, stroking her thumb over my mouth. A moment later, she pushes her finger into my mouth, feeling my fangs. “When do I get your bite?”

Greedy. I like this. I lean in to kiss her again, and when I do, I reach for her waist, where the clothes are tightest, and tug on them. Dakota loosens the layers for me, and I sink my hand between her thighs, touching her where she’s hot and slick. My claws skim over her skin carefully, and this is another thing that must be modified. If I am to have a delicate, fragile human mate, my claws must go, because I need to touch her.

Need.

Dakota gasps and rocks against my hand. She wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me in, angling my mouth toward her throat in a silent invitation. She wants my bite, and she wants it now.

I stroke her slick folds with utmost care, making sure to use the pads of my fingers as I touch her. My lips brush over her cool neck and I pick out the perfect spot to bite her. Not too high up, somewhere lower, where my bite will be constantly exposed. I graze her skin with my fangs and she holds me tighter. “You’re sure no one’s going to come out and see us?”

If they did, I would growl at them until they retreated. I understand her anxiety, however. “No scent,” I promise. “No scent but Dakota.”

“Then give me your bite,” she pants. “I want this. I want you.”

With that, I sink my teeth into her neck.

She stiffens under me, gasping. I’m dimly aware of her body clenching against my hand, everything tightening. It’s too late for me to draw back. My mouth floods with venom, and I push my teeth deeper, her blood adding to the heated copper tang. The sheer relief of claiming her boils over and I erupt, spilling my seed against the leg of her clothing. Dakota gives another sharp intake of breath, but she never lets go of me. She continues to hold onto me as I inject the bond-creating venom into her bloodstream.

Because she trusts me. Because I assured her that the bite was good.

She will be a fierce, strong mate, even if we do not have a mental link, and I could not be more proud.

When the last droplet has been wrung from my fangs, my head is foggy with the aftermath. My teeth slide free from her damaged skin and I lick the bite to seal it so it can heal. As I lick her, she no longer feels as cool, and her scent is changing.

“Was…was that everything?” Dakota asks, dazed. Her hand continues to play with my mane.

I lift my head and touch her flushed cheek. My thoughts stab at hers anyhow, desperate to make the connection. Nothing. It’s not as disappointing as it could be, because her scent is all around me, morphing into something even more delightful than before.

“Wife,” I say, pleased. I smile at her…

…and then everything goes dark.