Now it was her turn to plant her kisses on my shoulders and chest, her fingers still stroking my back in ways that made my scales shudder with delight. My cock jutted upward, swaying and quivering almost imperceptibly, like the stalk of a hungry flower seeking out rays of sunlight.
She glanced down at it, smiled, and pulled her hands away from my back, folding them around my eager shaft instead. She stopped to stroke and tickle every ridge on it, as though committing their shapes and patterns to memory.
My breath came in ragged rasps. Every part of my body felt hot and damp, covered in glistening beads of sweat, as though I'd been standing in a tropical arboretum for hours on end. I was delirious with desire, and I knew she sensed my need, my longing for her. It glowed fiercely in her eyes.
She shifted her position, and for a moment, I thought she would attempt to mount me again – to prove her dominance once more, to demonstrate that she was no one's slave or prisoner, and never would be again. She had long since earned that right.
But no.
Instead, Natalie leaned backward until her back was against the floor, spreading her legs. Offering herself to me. Showing me that she was mine, willingly and voluntarily. She was so wet for me that her juices were already pooling beneath her.
I loomed over her, looking deep into her eyes as our hips collided. She called my name, once, twice, then over and over, invoking it with every new thrust. She put her hands over her head, inviting me to hold onto her wrists, to possess her as fully and completely as I could. I did, holding her down, lowering my chest against hers until our bodies felt inseparably joined.
There was no stillness this time. I couldn't exercise any control or restraint. I could only give in to my ravenous hunger for her, plunging into her so deeply that her cries rose in pitch to become wordless screams of pure passion. Her buttocks left the floor again and again, her pelvis crashing and grinding against mine.
I felt light-headed, the room swirling around us dizzyingly. There was a surge of power which burst through my whole being like a geyser. I felt my muscles expand and contract savagely beneath my skin. Was I losing control? Would I burst forth into my full dragon form without being able to help it? The thought scared me, but it exhilarated me too.
Then our mutual climax sizzled through us both, like a pair of laser blasts meeting in midair and erupting in a shower of sparks.
We remained like that for a while, clutching each other and gasping for air between kisses.
Then she pulled away, giving me a saucy wink. “Wow, you sure do know how to make a girl work up an appetite! Do you think the mess hall will be open?”
We peeled ourselves off the floor, shrugged our space suits back on, and went to the mess hall holding hands. I can't remember how many times we stopped to steal a kiss.
In truth, I lost count.
25
Natalie
The doors of the mess hall slid open before us, revealing the senior officers of the Gyygnar, the Wyvern, and the other remaining Hielsrane vessels. Tarion sat at the head of the table, with Lehar and Lara to his right. To his left was a thin blonde woman with pale skin and large, intense eyes. When she looked up and saw me, those eyes widened even more, as though she thought she recognized me from somewhere but couldn't quite be sure.
That's almost certainly Carissa, the woman Lara warned me about, I thought. Guess I'd better watch my step around her.
During my years in the mines, I'd gotten pretty good at sizing new people up as I met them, in order to determine their potential threat levels. That kind of training and instinct doesn't fade away quickly, if at all. As I looked Carissa over, I noted that she was wiry – not obviously muscular, but probably no pushover either, when it came down to it. Her stature was small, so her limbs weren't particularly long, which meant reach wouldn't be a problem. Since she was seated, I couldn't get a good read on her overall posture to determine whether she was a trained fighter.
Those eyes, though. There was a manic quality in them that I'd seen enough times in others to be wary of. Those eyes didn't say she was crazy as a rule, but they said she could easily turn crazy, when the occasion warranted.
And in a brawl, the right kind of frenzy and abandon could be far deadlier than any advantages in weight or formal training.
I shook my head lightly. This was a ridiculous line of thought. I was stepping into a celebration hall, not a fighting arena.
...So why did it feel so much like the reverse?
I noticed that there was a row of green bottles standing in a line in the center of the table from one end to the other, and groaned inwardly. I was fairly certain I wouldn't be able to stomach one more sip of that vile nectar these dragons seemed to love so much, even to be polite – or even on a dare, for that matter.
“Ah, Natalie!” Tarion stood, holding his arms wide in greeting. “Welcome to our revels! I'm delighted to see that Dashel ordered that hideous metal collar removed.”
Carissa stood up suddenly, with a furious look on her face as though she'd just been slapped. “'Natalie?' 'Collar?!' You fucking bitch, I'll kill you—!”
She launched herself across the table at me, her eyes seeming to roll over black like a shark about to sink its teeth into its prey.
Well, I thought, good thing I didn't let myself relax around her too much, huh?
I shifted my legs
