Light My Fire by G. A. Aiken
“Good.” She leaned in. “I finally found way to shut you up.”
Elina kissed the dragon, the heat of his mouth surprising her. Even though it probably shouldn’t. He was a dragon, after all. Fire breather and all that.
Yet with a human or not, Elina had never been so aroused before. So ready to take what she wanted without thought to consequences or what others in her tribe would think.
Ever since she’d passed fifteen summers, Elina had been graced with lovers. Men born into the tribes who she thought were attractive enough to bother with. None of them would ever be her husband. Glebovicha had made sure of that, but those not bound to another were usually hers for a night or three. But they had all been human . . . belonging to one of the many Steppes Tribes.
Celyn was none of those things and, more importantly, he was a corrupt, immoral Southlander. Something that, at the moment, didn’t bother Elina in the least.
Strong hands slid around her waist and eased up her spine. Celyn leaned forward, while gently pushing Elina back.
She tried to use her hands to stop him, but he growled against her mouth, “Keep those fingers deep in your pussy.”
Elina didn’t take orders from men—or, in this case, males—in bed. But when she tried to pull her fingers away, his hand caught hers and held it in place . . . until he pushed them deeper.
“Fuck yourself with your fingers,” he ordered her. And, when she hesitated, “Do it.”
She went ahead and did as he told her to, and was quickly rewarded when he moved out of their kiss and licked his way down her throat, then chest, until he reached her breasts. He curled his tongue around her nipple and enclosed most of her breast inside his mouth. The heat increased against her sensitive skin while his tongue twisted and tugged. The triple sensations of what he was doing to her breast, what she was doing with her own fingers, and him holding her hand in place, leaving her very little choice, had Elina screaming out into the night as her body shook from the strength of overwhelming sensations.
The orgasm seemed to last forever, rolling through her until she was too weak to do much more than whimper.
That’s when the dragon roughly flipped her onto her stomach. She placed her hands against the ground, trying to push her body up, but a firm hand against her back shoved her down and pinned her there.
Celyn pressed his free hand against her pelvis and lifted her hips up. His fingers slid around, searching for and finding her pussy. He slid three fingers in and she heard him sigh, “Gods, so tight.” Then his fingers were gone and she felt the head of his cock press against her.
That’s when she began to put up a fight. Or at least tried to. The head alone was huge, and she wasn’t sure she wanted all of his cock shoved inside her. Then again, she wasn’t sure she didn’t. She actually enjoyed that he gave her no quarter. That he was as strong in bed as she was.
She tested him, but she knew enough about him never to say the word “no.” That was, she sensed, the one thing that would stop all of this. She didn’t want it to stop. She just wanted it to be a bit of a challenge.
Fuck that. Who was she kidding? Elina wanted a fight.
When it came to sex, Elina liked to know she was bedding an equal, not some weak-willed male who would take whatever she gave.
And she was more than pleased when she realized that Celyn the Charming was not that male.
When he tried to fuck her, suddenly the limp doll Elina had become turned back into the vicious little spitfire who had gotten naked in front of him and straddled him like a horse she wanted to break.
She pushed herself up, then swung back with one fist, trying to push him off while attempting to get to her feet.
Celyn caught that fist and held it. But he waited. To hear her say the one word that would stop everything. He waited to hear “no” and he only needed to hear it once. He would never force Elina or any female to do anything she didn’t want . . . unless Elina wanted him to.
But that “no” never came. She just tried to pull her arm away while still pushing her body up so that she had some leverage.
Celyn, however, wasn’t about to give her that leverage. He caught hold of her one free hand, then reached around and gripped the other. With a good pull, he had control and Elina, still on her knees, had control of nothing. The only thing that kept her face from hitting the ground was him.
She continued to struggle, but he pulled her arms back and then gripped both her slim wrists in one hand. With Elina securely held, Celyn again pressed his cock against her pussy, which, he was happy to note, was wetter and hotter than it had been before. And it had been so very wet and hot before.
He pressed his cock against her and, with a rather undignified grunt, he shoved home.
Elina let out a cry; then she began to curse him. At least, he was guessing she was cursing him since she now spoke the language of the tribes and he didn’t understand a bloody word she said.
Yet, there was still absolutely no sign of the one word he needed to hear if he was going to stop this. And he thanked the gods every second as he began to take her with long, powerful, and incredibly hard strokes.
Although Elina still struggled to get her arms free, her hips were slamming back against his as he took her with, even he had to admit, absolutely no charm whatsoever.
It was true. He’d always known it. When it came to sex, no matter how much Celyn might fight it, he was and always would be a Cadwaladr. Which meant one thing . . . he liked a bit of fight from his bed partners. He wanted them to go down swinging. He wanted to wake up in the mornings scratched, scarred, and sore.
And, much to his eternal surprise, Elina was one of those partners. She snarled, she screamed, she threatened, she said things in her own language that he was positive he never wanted to know the meaning of. She, in short, put up one hell of a fight . . . but she never said no. Or stop.
So he fucked her, hard, while she fought. And he kept his own orgasm at bay—as bloody hard as that was—until he ripped that climax from her.
Her screams didn’t scare off the birds, but he sensed they now had an audience of animals, watching the superior beings do what they mostly did during mating season.
Celyn continued to fuck her through that orgasm and when he could tell she was fighting off another one, her body too sensitive to go through it again, he pulled back his hand and slapped her ass. Her pussy clenched his cock like a vise and they both exploded, his head back, flames bursting from his throat, a few of the viewing birds singed before they managed to take to the air.
Wrung dry, the pair landed hard on the ground, Celyn now spooning Elina from behind.
Trying to catch their breath, they lay there for so long that Celyn lost track of time. That is, until Elina noted, “You are still hard inside me.”
Celyn nodded, then realized she couldn’t see that. “Aye,” he finally answered.
“How is that possible?”
“I am dragon,” he answered honestly. “Anything is possible. We’re that amazing.”
“Are you?” she asked, seconds before her elbow came back and rammed into his face.
“Ow! You mad cow!”
Suddenly Celyn was flat on his back and Elina was on top of him, his cock inside her again, her small hand trying to wrap itself around his throat.
“Then show me,” she ordered him. “Show me how amazing the dragon is.”
It was the way she rolled her tongue when she said “dragon” that had Celyn gripping Elina by her shoulders and throwing her to her back. He held her down by pinning her arms above her head and unceremoniously shoved his cock inside her.
“I can show you whatever you want,” he told her as he fucked her hard. “I’m just not sure you can take it all.”
“I am Daughter of Steppes,” she reminded him, seconds before she managed to pull one of her hands away and dragged her nails across his chest, leaving bloody claw marks. “I can take anything.”
Celyn really hoped that was true. Because they h
Chapter Twenty-One
“Get up, lazy dragon. We must ride.”
“No,” Celyn told her flatly, turning onto his side. “Take a turn with your hand and leave me be.”
“I mean ride our horses . . . out of here.”
Celyn opened his eyes, then quickly closed them again when the rays of the two suns nearly blinded him.
Gods, he felt like he’d been drinking all night. But he hadn’t. Although he almost wished he’d been doing that instead. He’d feel less pain . . . and probably less used.
Something hit him in the head, and he opened his eyes again—more carefully this time—to see a pigskin of water and several strips of meat lying near him.
“Thanks,” Celyn croaked out, shocked at how rough his voice sounded.
What had this female done to him? She was human. Human! Not a She-dragon. Definitely not a centaur, whose skills in bed were legendary. But a mere, weak-skinned human. And yet she hadn’t faltered once. She hadn’t told him to stop or told him that was enough. Not once! Even when he was praying she would.
It seemed that riding all day on the Steppes created females that could sustain all sorts of things.
Celyn sat up, wincing as parts of his body snapped and popped back into place. His horse made a little judgmental clucking sound with his teeth, but when Celyn glared at him, he quickly turned his head away and went back to eating the grass by the creek.
Picking up one of the slices of meat, Celyn ate and tried desperately to remember what he’d done with his leggings. He glanced over at Elina and saw her pouring herself something hot from the pit fire.
“What’s that?” he asked. Gods, his voice still sounded like a road made of crushed glass.
“Tea.”
That sounded perfect right now. “Can I have a bit?”
“It is not for you.”
Celyn bit off another piece of meat. “Why not?”
“You cannot have little dragon babies.”
Celyn choked, that piece of meat stuck somewhere in his throat.
Elina walked over to him and, while holding her cup of tea in one hand, she pounded his back with the other until the meat dislodged.
“Thanks,” he squeaked.
She stepped back, with both hands now around the battered metal teacup. She gently blew on the tea to cool it. “You might forget that things have changed, Dolt, between our kinds. But I have not. And I am much too young for anyone’s babies. Especially my own.”
Celyn felt a sharp bolt of panic. He’d never asked Elina her age; he’d merely assumed she was of age. At least thirty winters. Right?
He tried to sound nonchalant. Tried desperately. “So how old are you?”
“Such a rude question,” she teased. “Southlanders and their rude questions.”
“Just . . . answer.”
“Fine. I am one hundred and forty-five passing summers.”
Confused, Celyn asked, “Do you have several summers a year or something?”
“No.”
“Then stop fooling around and answer me.”
She sipped her tea and gazed at him over the cup.
“Well?” he pushed.
“I am unsure what you want me to say.”
Celyn blinked. “You’re one hundred and forty-five years old?”
“I said passing summers.”
“Is there a difference?”
“No.”
“Then—” Celyn stopped short. He would not argue with her over wording. Not when he was still hungover from their amazing festival of fucking the night before.
He took a breath and started again. “Summers in the Steppes happen once a year?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve been alive for one hundred and forty-five of them.”
“Yes.”
“So . . . you’re old. Why don’t you look old?”
“Why don’t you look old?” she snapped back.
“Because I’m a dragon. We live to be nearly a thousand years old.”
“And I am Rider,” she snarled. “We live to be nearly twelve hundred years old. Even now,” she went on, “the woman who gave birth to my great-great-great-grandmother gets up every morning at suns-rise and hunts down male deer for her breakfast. She used to carry the carcasses on her back, but now that she’s so old, she drags them to her hut by their antlers.”
Celyn stared at the female for a very long moment before he finally said, “Oh. All right then.”
Elina shook her head and finished her tea in one gulp.
And that’s when Celyn exploded. “Are you saying I’m not good enough to be the father of your offspring?”
Eyes wide, Elina gawked at him. “What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know!” Desperate, Celyn looked around. “Gods, woman! What have you done to me?”
Elina shrugged. “I do not know, but I think you need to calm fuck down.”
For a dragon that never seemed capable of shutting up, Celyn the Charming had very little to say as they made their way through small towns and past farms.
To be honest, Elina didn’t know if she should be insulted or complimented by the dragon this morning. She’d never seen him so confused before. Although she did have to admit, she was entertained by it all.
But as morning turned to afternoon, she should have remembered that she was traveling with the chattiest dragon the gods had ever created and even massive confusion would not shut him up forever.
“So how old is your mother?”
“Six hundred and sixty-eight, I think.”
“You don’t know?”
“We do not talk much.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“For what? You do not make her not talk to me.”
“I know. It just couldn’t have been easy for you. Growing up in your tribe.”
“Tribe life is not easy for anyone. But at least I was born female. I hate to think what my life would be like if I had not been.”
That made the dragon chuckle. “You don’t hear that very often from Southlander women.”
“I do not know why,” Elina answered honestly. “I would never want to be man. That cock hanging between your legs all day. You have no control of emotions. If we leave you to yourselves, you destroy without thought; rage without reason; and attempt to fuck anything that wants you to leave them be.”
“We’re not all like that.”
“But most. And your lack of control makes all of you essentially weak, even though your upper bodies have so much strength. It is sad.”
“If you think so little of us, why do you bother having us around?”
“We need you to have the babies. And . . .”
“And?”
“That is all I can think of.”
The dragon’s eyes crossed. “The way you think of males, it’s a wonder you fucked me at all.”
Elina shrugged. “You were there.”
Celyn’s horse suddenly reared up when he pulled on the reins. “I was there?” he snarled.
“That is how we fucked . . . because you were there.”
“So you would have fucked anybody who was with you last night?”
“No. I fucked you because I wanted to fuck you.” Elina thought about it, then added. “I will probably fuck you tonight as well. You were quite satisfying.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Why does that upset you?”
“I have no idea.” He placed the palms of his hands against his eyes. “I think you’re making me insane.”
“Me? That is first.”
He lowered his hands and glowered at her. “You don’t have to sound so proud of yourself.”
“No . . . but I will.” She smiled and the dragon did the same. “Believe it or not, Dolt, I choose my lovers carefully. One is fool not to in these dangerous times. But at end of day, I fuck you because I want to fuck you.”
He sighed sadly.
Elina reared back in her saddle a bit. “Tell me you joke.”
“I do joke,” he laughed. “But it was worth it to see the look on your face.”
He and his travel-cow started off again and Elina followed, fighting her desire to shoot him in the back with an arrow as the laughter went on and on.
They continued across the Southlands until they reached the territorial lines between the Outerplains. That’s where they halted their horses and sat . . . staring.
“You look worried,” Celyn finally stated.
“I always look like this.”
“No. You usually just look concerned . . . or a little angry. This expression . . . definitely worried.”
“I am fine. And we should go. We should reach the Conchobar Mountains pass by nightfall so that we can head through first thing in the morning.”
Celyn blinked. “What are you talking about? The mountain pass is right there.”
“There are two passes through Conchobar Mountains.”
“That’s right. I forgot.”
“One here,” she went on, “that goes into Annaig Valley. The second is the one that will place us inside Steppes territory. That is one we will take.”
“Or,” Celyn suggested, “we can take this pass and go into Annaig Valley.”
“Why would we do that?”
“Mostly for the hells of it. I call it the sweep-through.”
“A sweep-through? What battle tactic is that?”
“It’s not a battle tactic. It’s what my sister Brannie and I used to do when Mum and Da had parties in Da’s house. He had a lot of intellectual friends back then. And let me tell you . . . intellectuals can drink. So we would come downstairs like we were just wandering by to say good night or chat a bit with my da’s human friends. And by the time we got back upstairs, we would have eight bottles of wine, two whole turkeys, several loaves of bread, and some sweets.”
“You want us to sweep through Annaig Valley so you can steal wine and food?”
“No. Just to get a look. If we do it casually enough, I doubt anyone will notice. We won’t even go near the city of Levenez; which, in my estimation, would be the most dangerous place to go.”