Gulping, I turn away, heaving the male along. The cliffs go inland from here.
It feels like an eternity has passed, but we finally make it to the grassy rise before the cave’s entrance.
The lightning has lessened without me noticing.
Another deep, straining moan reaches my ears.
Stopping for a moment, I drop down beside the male and check his wounds. My hands still at their discovery. The bleeding has stopped… The shallow ones are nearly closed. Licking my lips in wonder, I take his hands again and lug him up the final rise.
When the rain stops falling, I know we’re under the cave entrance’s cover. I collapse at the male’s side. Catching my breath, my muscles crying, I peer out into the storm and realize it’s almost nightfall.
The storm’s been raging for hours.
He groans; I moan. Everything hurts. Now that we’re safe, the pain hits me tenfold, and minutes pass before I can even consider moving.
The warmth in my body worsens instead of cools. Pressing my hands to my chest—I gasp—swearing there’s smoke rising from my mouth. Eyes widening, wiping them several more times just in case, I exhale again, but this time there’s no smoke. Moving my hands to my neck, my pulse vibrates erratically under my fingers.
What in the waters was that?
Storms, dragons, a beastly male… and as if the male knows my thoughts, he groans. I turn my head to the side, taking in his outline.
A huge beastly male, I correct.
Sitting up slowly, I lean over him and my sex clenches. Frustration guts me. I shouldn’t feel desire, not now, not like this, but my body has its own way of handling the stress of the situation. My sex clamps again, harder this time.
I nearly died several times over. I curse.
But then again, I nearly die every day while out hunting. The fact that I haven’t proves my prowess to the tribe, my ability to provide, take care of others, and lead.
Staring at the dragon male, I remember his prowess and strength on the beach, his glowing, knowledgeable gaze and that enormous body that filled the sky… It all returns to mind at once, exciting me. My body startles. He was so strong. Still is. I take in his dangerous-looking horns.
Horns, yes. Sharp, long, and pointy, they’re jutting from above and behind his ears. The same color as his scales were.
Are, I correct myself. He still has scales.
His shaft has teardrop scales that look like velvet.
A deeper heat grows inside me. Aida, you pervert. I shake my head.
He has long white-blonde hair with pale blue streaks throughout, but it’s hard to be sure with how wet it is, the way it’s damp against his skin.
Then there’s his body, long and toned with muscles only the strongest hunters have, but bigger still. Because he’s long—taller than anyone I have ever known. Taller than me by a head or so, taller still if I include his horns.
Gaze traveling down to his tail, I barely comprehend it. Mermaids along the coast have brightly colored fishtails, and the dangerous jungle nagas have snake tails, but this male is no mermaid or naga. He has legs. Legs with thighs and calves that beg me to run my hands over them because they are sculpted to perfection.
And though I try hard not to look at his cock, I can’t help but see it out of the corner of my eye. My strange internal heat bursts when I finally allow myself another glimpse of it.
A blush rises on my cheeks. Oh, waters, is he endowed.
I know he is because the elder males and females of my tribe—those who are or once mated—talk about rutting often, often with giggles and jokes, telling stories of when they were young and there were more partners to be had.
I’ve heard them all, even the fake ones of phantom men coming from the Forbidden Jungle to ravish our women late at night, or those of male merfolk who loved to slide their tongues between our female’s legs—because mermaids only have a cold hole, they complained…
Or some of the tales the grandmothers would relish telling: the dumb, burly giants, lugging heavy clubs between their thighs, that their mothers and grandmothers had once encountered in the wastes and played with.
The dragon male’s velvety scaled cock could be considered a club too. A club that’s smooth and rigid like the rest of him, partially blue, partially silver, with veins pulsing and a tip that’s twice the girth of his shaft. And his girth…
My hands twitch. I don’t know if I could grip him, not with how bulbous his shaft is… though I’m curious to try.
My sex flutters again, unwittingly, feeling emptier and needier than ever before. I grump and run my hands over my face. I need this dragon man now. Right now. My chest tightens as something primal threatens to take me over.
Another streak of guilt hits me. I force my gaze from his cock and steady myself. Again. What is wrong with me?
Pressing my thighs together, I rub my face harder, only looking again at him when I know I’ve gathered control—I won’t jump him while he’s unconscious. Untoward sexual encounters are a sinful act among all the tribes and are harshly punished.
His tail twitches, catching my attention.
It couldn’t have been comfortable having it dragged through the sand. Biting my bottom lip, I check his wounds again, peeling back the makeshift bandages.
They’re still raw and deep, but like the shallower gashes, they’re practically healing before my eyes. I notice nowhere on his body—which is nearly silvery white—is there a slight bruise or tiny scratch, not even a rash from being hauled through sand and over small rocks. I’m thankful for this.
Glancing at myself, I know I’m bruised before even seeing them form on my dusky skin.
“Aida! You’re safe—oh my…” I hear Milaye’s voice from down the cave passage before I see her. She comes to a sudden stop several feet away, eyes widening on my dragon male. “Oh
