14. Drake

FOURTEEN

DRAKE

T he king didn't know how much more he could take. Thalia was lovely beyond measure, and his dragon had nearly burned a hole through his skull with longing.

Her touch was like lightning on his skin, her scent, a breeze of intoxication. He couldn't stay composed in the way he truly wanted to because everything inside him was begging with the need to devour every inch of her arresting essence.

Sorcha had been right. She was luscious from top to bottom. And he didn't merely crave her carnally. No, he was possessed by something far more fluid than the fleeting superfluousness of lust.

He meant it when he told her that he lacked sufficient vocabulary. He'd rather wax lyrical over her body and soul like a painter brushing over a canvas, or a musician feathering his fingers over his treasured instrument.

The king hadn't ever thought of any other being in that manner before. The peculiar foreign feeling made him want to set an entire city ablaze and dance drunkenly, all at once.

Their conversation at The Claw was easy and smooth. Thalia was amazed by the full flavoring of Benedict's cooking, expressing herself vividly. She was bubbly, not a trace of the somber protector he'd met that first day at the village hut in sight.

But he was drawn to her then just as he was drawn to her beneath the veneered canopy of stars. The moon peeked its head out irregularly, casting the Creation Witch in a glow that felt otherworldly. He sat there, his chin perched on his palm, indelibly captivated.

Thalia had been regaling him with the lore of her village life when she caught him studying her like an oil painting.

"I'm sorry, I'm rambling," she said, bringing her hand to her mouth humorously. "I think it's this wine you've been plying me with."

Drake chuckled, beside himself with admiration for her frank nature. They had finished their meals and were offered a white cake with infused floral notes of lavender and complemented by the sweetness of honey.

He fingered the stem of the glass clumsily, which made Thalia burst into her own fit of hysterical laughter.

"I don't see the effect," he said, smiling.

Benedict brought them more wine and took their empty plates. On their third glass, Thalia lifted her chair and sat next to him, folding her legs so one of her bare feet could drape over his thigh. She had kicked off her arched footwear.

The king sobered when she guided his hand to it, naked of the tights she generally wore beneath her attire. His dragon paced inside him, full of undirected energy.

"You know the thing about women's shoes…all garments, actually…"

He began to massage the ball of her foot. Her skin was soft as lamb's fur, and she let out a provocative moan, cutting off her sentence bluntly.

Drake's cock twitched in his trousers. He couldn't stand touching only a single part of her. He greedily wanted it all.

"Does that feel good?" he whispered into her ear, resting next to his elbow.

He could see the way her breath had started to heave and snuck in a wily glimpse of her perfect breasts. He imagined their silkiness, the way the soft moonlight would caress the peachy buds of her nipples…

"I do," she said breathlessly. "I really, really do."

Drake dragged his head toward the restaurant to assure himself that Benedict had signed off for the night. The café owner knew beforehand that there was a romance blossoming between them, and the man was smart enough to know when he was being intrusive. The blinds were closed, and the torchlight had been extinguished.

The king took his chance, inspired slightly by the flow of fine wine, but more so, encouraged by the aching necessity to take her as his own.

He started to slide his hand up from the ball of her foot, dipping beneath the skirt of her dress and trailing along the velvety wilderness of her calf, then her knee. He watched her for any signs of invalidation, but all she did was bite her lower lip and gaze up at him.

"Thalia," he said in a gravelly voice. "I am not sure how much longer I can take this. I know you don't understand the fated mate sense, but you need to know how much I want you."

After pausing on her bare knee, Drake traveled up the delicious terrain of Thalia's thigh. Her chin rested on his arm when she lifted her head, boldly and charismatically egging him on with the arousing dampening of her lips.

"Go on then," she said, the whole world going still with her unblinking, sultry murmur. "Tell me how much you want me."

The king growled, and for a moment, Thalia's eyes widened like cup saucers. But she wasn't afraid, she was galvanized. Drake could feel her heart raging through her breastbone.

"I want to drink all of you like a fresh beverage on a scalding day," he snarled, riding his fingers up along the daring curve of her rear. "I want to consume you like you are my last meal. I am burning for you, Thalia. Like the stars above."

Her breath hitched in her throat, her lips parting with a voluptuous lilt. His hand hovered over her underwear, tortuously light.

Thalia knew the game he was playing. And he was wickedly excited by how her legs had begun to part throughout their flirtation. She'd also had enough, and it was nothing short of extraordinary.

She took him by the collar with one hand and tugged at his wandering appendage with the other.

"I want you, just like that," she grunted eager and wild. "I want you to take me, Drake. My King ."

Her smile was exceedingly naughty, and it made Drake's legs feel rubbery. He kissed her, and before she began to unravel for him, he darted upward, dipping his hand into hers.

"What my mate wants, my mate will get," he proclaimed.

They ran rapturously into the dark, leaving the table lonely. Drake told Thalia to stand back in the rolling lands behind the town while he shifted. He had never done so with such vigor in his entire life.

"My Gods," she muttered blissfully.

This is faster. I can't stand not having you.

She gave him another suggestive look, then mounted his neck the way she had that first time at the inn. Drake blasted into the air like a sudden snow squall.

The Great Mountain King sailed over the glassy mountains and rugged hillsides of his realm. He bleated to the guards with a small puff of fiery smoke to alert them of his presence. He could feel Thalia's bare thighs clenched over his scales, driving him to the brink of insanity.

He got to the terrace outside his private chambers, landed, and let Thalia slip off his back before shifting into human form. She was flushed with exhilaration, her cheeks that precious rosy hue, when she turned to find him, utterly nude.

"Drake," she said, panting and bright-eyed. "My King."

Her eyes wandered his body as the rain began to patter against the stone. Drake didn't really notice as his flesh was coated in a glossy film of heat that made him feel like the last embers of a dying fire.

She approached him, admiring him with her pretty eyes from head to toe. The king was proud of his wiry, solid form. She didn't seem stunned by the sight of his liberally sized cock, standing at attention and taut in the misty air.

"You are beautiful ," she muttered.

Thalia put her hands on his cut abs, but the king needed more. He hooked a hand under her chin as the rain started to smash against his hot skin, and met her gaze with his own.

"You are the beautiful one, Thalia. You are a goddess I am going to worship. No need to call me king. You are mine ."

He crushed her with his mouth, and they descended into tantalizingly steady intimacy.

They had all night to traverse the universe of each other's forms, so he explored her carefully, running his hands along the swanlike curve of her neck, then down along the round bends of her bust. They kissed slowly as the rain drenched them, with the king's fingers fluttering along Thalia's waist.

He held her tightly against him and shuffled her beneath the overhang to shield her from the downpour. He then ushered her into a sitting position on an iron patio chair, their lips peeled away for only a fraction of a second.

His voice was haunting in the shadows of the castle, lowering to his knees to roll up the skirt of Thalia's dress.

"Lay back, my darling. Your king is going to make you feel like magic ."

Thalia grinned, lost in the haze of lust.

The king was as hard as the armored steel his men used during battle as he pushed the sheath of Thalia's underpants aside. She was wet and glistening for him.

He licked her from bottom to top, then curled his lips around her most swollen and sensitive spot. Then he sucked with great skill.

Thalia threw her head back with salacious bliss.

The king snuck a hand up and through the many layers of her clothing and was grateful to find she was unbound at the chest. He cupped one of her breasts firmly, then circled a finger around the hard nub.

She was far tastier and softer than he could have ever dreamed.

"My King, My King, My King," Thalia pleaded with him, trembling and drowning in passion. "I mean Drake, Drake, please don't stop, please, I…"

The king slipped two fingers inside her warm opening and began to thrust. She approved with a silent quaking of her hips, her mouth gaped in muted ecstasy.

Thalia's climax resounded through the kingdom like a battle cry.