Fury of Fate: A Dragonfury Short Story Page 3

  Another would be wow. Add YUM to the package and...uh-huh. She had a winner, ’cause holy Hannah on a swizzle stick, he was flat out gorgeous. Big, bad and sculpted, at least six and a half feet of male glory. Sexy as hell too, with black sun-glasses shielding his eyes. The wraparounds did wonders for his face, enhancing his angular features, accenting his dark red hair, giving him an edge that screamed “I’m great in bed.”

  Her libido purred in appreciation.

  Instant attraction lit the fuse. Curiosity collided with arousal. Sasha looked him over again. Faded jeans encasing long legs. Scuffed boots on his feet. White T-shirt stretched over a muscular chest and wide shoulders, beaten up leather jacket over the whole. Forcing her lungs to unlock, she took a deep breath and—sweet Mary. He smelled fantastic too, like exotic spice, dark fantasies and...oh mercy. Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Dangerous. He looked the part, and her imagination took flight. Naughty thoughts filtered in. Ones that circled around sex and the fact he was most certainly a stranger.

  The car alarm shrieked again.

  Still staring at him, Sasha extended her arm over the threshold and pressed the button. Headlights stopped flashing.

  Silence descended, cranking her tight, making her wonder and imagine and...ache from the inside out. Taut muscles pulled at her abdomen. Sensation spiraled out, sending shivers up her spine and tingles to interesting places. She swallowed past a bad case of dry mouth. Gaze pinned to hers, he dropped his hand and leaned toward her. Not a lot. The movement was slight, more subtle shift than true displacement. But Sasha knew what it meant. Along with what he wanted. Call it woman’s intuition, but...

  He was as interested in her as she was in him.

  Her gaze dropped to his lips. Great mouth. Full, masculine, made for kissing. Her heart picked up a beat, and then another. Sasha listened to the blood rush and blew out a pent-up breath. Should she...or shouldn’t she? An excellent question. One she’d never asked before when it came to sex. But as the silence expanded and the cold drifted in through the open door, Sasha wanted to be brave. Just this once. Maybe Lily was right. Maybe she needed to let loose and live a little. Maybe the man standing on her doorstep was what she needed. A sexual adventure wrapped up in sinew and bone, so...

  To hell with it. Time to take a risk along with a leap of faith.

  “Are you married?”

  Dark brows collided behind his Oakleys. “Nyet.”

  The Russian word rolled on his deep voice. Oh God. Hot as hell and a sexy accent. Cupid must love her, after all.

  She’d just hit the jackpot. “Good.”

  He opened his mouth—no doubt to ask if she’d lost her mind.

  Sasha didn’t give him a chance. With a quick step forward, she fisted her hands in his leather jacket and tugged. The move caught him off guard. She yanked again, and knuckles pressed to the wall of his chest, pulled him off balance. He stumbled over the threshold. She slammed the door in his wake. A growl—the sound low and lethal, yet somehow full of welcome—rumbled up his throat. Bolstered by his reaction, Sasha popped onto her tiptoes, and fingers sifting through his hair, licked his bottom lip. He tensed in surprise. Sasha refused to back down. She needed a taste. Of pleasure. Of passion. Of the desire she’d kept under wraps for far too long. After that, he could do as he pleased. Push her away. Pull her close. Make love to her until she fell into pleasure-bound oblivion.

  Totally up to him.

  Either way, she was desperate to feel. Something. Anything. His hard body against hers—his kiss...hot, wet and deep—would do the trick. So yeah, like it or not, one way or the other, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Dangerous was going to give her everything she asked for. And exactly what she wanted.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Off balance, Ivar stumbled over the threshold and into the female’s arms. Senses honed by years of war, he fell into habit and scanned the layout over the top of her head. Small kitchen. Open plan set up. No threat in sight. Thank fuck. He didn’t know what he would’ve done had the enemy been standing in the middle of her living room. Died, most likely ’cause...man. He couldn’t think straight. Not with her all over him. Sweet feminine curves—all the soft skin pressed up against him—negated brain function, shoving him in one direction. Toward blind lust. Into raging need. Distracting him with a hunger so intense he wanted to fall in with the plan. Consequences be damned.

  Not smart. Or anywhere near advisable.

  Ivar knew it. Kept telling himself being this close to another without any intel was a bad idea, but...hmm. She was incredible. So soft in his arms. So beautiful with her blonde hair messed up and desire shining in her dark brown eyes. Her mouth brushed the corner of his. He swallowed a sudden case of dry mouth and tried to hang on. To do the right thing—the smart thing—and back away. More information. He needed some right now. Before it all went to hell and she—

  Popping up on her tiptoes, the female nipped his bottom lip.

  Bliss whispered his name. His body went haywire, short circuiting, hardening so fast his mind went blank. Reflex made his hands tighten on her waist. “Shit. Hold on a second, just—”

  “Kiss me back.”

  Oh, Jesus. That voice. The husky timbre of her voice hit all the right notes, playing across his senses, stroking over nerve endings already frayed by her touch. Pleasure sank deep. Male appreciation spiked, spiraling into desire, killing more brain cells. She murmured, and inviting him to kiss her, buried her hands in his hair. Ecstasy followed in the wake of her caress, urging him to forget his training and step into the fray. Into her and accept what she offered. It would be so easy to do. Effortless, really. Beyond good to simply let go and be a male instead of the commander of warriors. At least, for a little while.

  Temptation urged him forward. Instinct held him back.

  Something was off. Way, way out in left field. Females didn’t invite him—or rather...drag him—into their homes. Not for sex or anything else. Most kept their distance, giving him a wide berth, only coming near when he encouraged them into his sphere. This one, though, hadn’t gotten the memo. She wasn’t afraid of him...at all. Her body language and scent said it all. She wanted him. Was already aroused and ready to take him every step of the way. Unprecedented. Surprising too, considering the lethal vibe he carried around like luggage. Not that she noticed. Or maybe that wasn’t it. Maybe she simply didn’t care. Some women enjoyed danger, the thrill of the hunt along with the idea of getting down and dirty with a bad boy.

  A good theory. One he could work with as she pressed her advantage, used his confusion against him, and kissed him again. With a hum, she licked into his mouth. Her taste hit him like a body shot. Ivar groaned and lost ground. Unable to say no—or push her away—he got in on the action and touched his tongue to hers. She purred, the sound full of satisfaction, and shoved him backward. His shoulder blades bumped the door at his back. Clever fingers stroking over his nape, she played with his hair, getting as close as clothes allowed. Which was...

  Fascinating. Enthralling. Beyond good or anything he’d felt while holding a female.

  The thought sent him sideways inside his own head, adding to his confusion. Something about her was...shit. He didn’t know exactly. But instinct warned him she was different from other females. A gift in many ways. Someone to be wary of in others. Particularly since the Meridian—the electrostatic bands that ringed the planet, the source of all living things—reacted, opening a channel deep inside him. Energy bled through the fissure, making his temples buzz and his fingertips tingle. Ivar frowned as the current amplified. Testing the sensation, he deepened the kiss.

  Awareness exploded, spilling into delight.

  She moaned. His heart picked up a beat. And then another, slamming the inside of his chest as he became addicted to the soft sounds she made. The instant the bliss-filled hum ended, he wanted to hear it again. And again. All of a sudden, close wasn’t close enough. He longed to be skin-to-skin with her. Wanted her to moan his name as he took himself to new heights in her arms. Such a
dangerous thought. His reaction to her—and the impulse that drove it—wasn’t safe. Not at all the norm when he touched a female.

  And far too messy.

  He craved order. Liked things neat. Preferred tidy, and by extension, mistrusted anything he couldn’t control. Danger lived in the outliers—in the wilds of human compulsion where impulse control became a problem. Clearly an issue for him at the moment. But God, she was a prime piece. So hot. So needy. So beautiful as she demanded without words that he please her. Temptation grabbed hold. Experience settled him down. He refused to lose himself in her heat.

  Not yet anyway.

  Walking into the unknown never ended well. He needed to understand first. Wanted to know why. The reason he’d gone from standing outside the door—from pissed off and prepared to scare the hell out of his neighbor—to, well this...deep seated desire driven by the female now kissing him blind. Which meant...

  Time to take control of the situation. And her.

  Planting his feet on the entryway rug, Ivar righted his balance and lifted his head. She protested with a murmur. Her grip on him tightened, the message clear...kiss me again. Another round of need roared through him. Ivar shook his head, and staring down at her from behind his wraparounds, leaned away. Eyes half hidden behind her lashes, she tugged harder. Baring his teeth, he reversed their positions, making her gasp as he shoved his thigh between her own, and pressed her back to the door.

  Her lips parted on an adorable little “O”. Shoulder blades flat against the wood panel, controlled now by him, she tipped her chin up. One hand still buried in his hair, the other slid around to stroke along his jaw. “You taste good. Come back.”

  “Tell me your name first.”

  Mischief sparked in her eyes. She shook head. “No names. Let’s keep it anonymous, okay?”

  Ivar’s eyes narrowed behind his Oakleys. No, not okay. Nothing about his encounter with her would be anonymous. Whether she knew it or not, he would know everything about her before he finished. So yeah. He wanted her name before he went any further. First. Last. Every hope and dream attached to her too...along with the reason she’d dragged him inside her home.

  Holding her immobile, he took off his sunglasses. Her breath caught. He held steady, refusing to look away even though he knew what she was seeing. Pink irises, unusual enough in the Dragonkind gene pool, almost non-existent in the human world. Well, except in lab rats and albinos.

  Of which, he was neither.

  “Your eyes,” she whispered, her gaze steady on his. Needing to see her reaction, Ivar let her look. Most ran scared when they saw his eyes. The blonde, however, surprised him. Instead of trying to get away, she lifted her hand, and touch gentle, traced the curve of his eyebrow with her fingertip. “But you’re not an albino.”

  Smart as well as beautiful. A stirring combination, one that made him want her more. “How do you know?”

  “Steady pigment. Normal skin color,” she said, awe in her voice, something close to scientific interest in her eyes. Changing course, she caressed the day old stubble on his jaw. Red whiskers, the same color as the hair on his head. “You’re a genetic anomaly.”

  In her world, maybe. He was 100 percent normal in his. “Do you care?”

  “No.”

  “Then tell me why I’m here.”

  “Guess.”

  “Lay it out for me instead.” A touch cruel, perhaps, but he wanted to hear her say it. Needed her to admit her need and ask him to assuage it. But as she squirmed, struggling to find the right words, silence stretched between them. She opened, then closed her mouth...twice. Amused by her speechlessness, Ivar took pity and raised a brow. “You looking for a fast fuck with a complete stranger?”

  The crude language made her flinch.

  Shock flared in her eyes a second before her face heated. Crimson spread in a glorious wave across her cheekbones. Ivar went still as he watched her. Instinct spiked. All kinds of assumptions followed. His mouth curved. Well, would you look at that? Little Ms. Aggressive was just a teensy bit shy. Which told him more than he needed to know. Good girl gone bad. She carried all the markers. He could smell it on her, the need to go rogue, if only for one night.

  “Tell me true, kitten.” Shifting against her, he glanced over his shoulder. With a flick, he tossed his Oakleys across the kitchen. The pair landed on the countertop, then slid, colliding with her purse as he returned his attention to her. Wide brown eyes met his. “Is that what you want from me? Are you going to open up and let me all the way in...deep, deep inside?”

  Her blush deepened, but she didn’t back down. She nodded instead.

  “No anonymity, then. Give me your name.”

  “Sasha.”

  “Pretty name,” he murmured, giving into a smile. He couldn’t help it. She was perfect. So beautiful with her pale skin and dark eyes. And her name. God, it was perfect too. Of Russian origin, a name he could say with relish. One that reminded him of home and happier times, of things long forgotten until now. Cupping her cheek, he caressed her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, then leaned in and kissed her. A gentle touch. Hardly a kiss at all. The mere brush of his mouth against hers. “Ivar.”

  “Nice to meet you, Ivar.” Tone naughty, his name rolled off her tongue. Pleasure skittered down his spine. Lips curved up at the corners, she shifted on his thigh, and undulating against him, showed him what she wanted. “Now, if you don’t mind...”

  Ivar didn’t. Not even a little. He was all in. Willing to play the game, completely committed to her pleasure as long as he received some in return. “Fast or slow the first time, Sasha?”

  She blinked in surprise. “The first time?”

  “You invited me in, kitten,” he said, giving her fair warning. “I’m not leaving until I get my fill, so...fast or slow?”

  A fine tremor rolled through her. “Fast.”

  “As you wish.”

  He murmured the words against her mouth. His tone said acquiesce. His touch, however, said something else. Dominant to the core, Ivar took over. Kissing her deep, he fisted his hands in her skirt. A quick tug pulled it up her torso. A firmer yank drew the soft material over her head and...Jesus help him. She’d dressed to kill tonight. Silky dress. Sexy high-heeled boots. But the most incredible sight lay underneath—silk and lace holding creamy skin and abundant curves. So soft. So warm and sweet. A gift wrapped up in black satin topped with pretty pink bows.

  Throat gone tight, Ivar fingered the one perched between her breasts, then traced the lace over the top of her gorgeous curve. Caressing her with a gentle stroke, he dipped inside the demi-cup, gauging her sensitivity, fighting to stay in control as her nipple tightened beneath the satin. Her breath caught on his name. Hearing it sent him into a tailspin. God forgive him, but she was right. The first time was going to be fast. Crazy and wild...far too fucking fast.

  But he couldn’t help it.

  He wanted her too much to back off. Or slow down. He couldn’t control it, so he sank into sensation instead. The work of moments, he stripped her bare—tossing the dress over his shoulder, unclasping her bra, releasing her long enough to drag the frilly panties down her thighs. The second he freed her, he pressed her back to the wall. Moaning in welcome, Sasha wrapped her legs around his hips, and setting her mouth to his, slid her hands down his chest. She shoved at his jacket. Eager to please, Ivar shrugged it off his shoulders. Heavy leather hit the floor as she attacked his T-shirt. Raising his arms, he helped her tug it over his head. Her hands touched down, stroking over his skin, fracturing what little remained of his control. A quick adjustment. An easy shift, and he yanked the button-fly of his jeans open, cupped her bottom and—

  “Ivar!”

  Sasha gasped as he thrust deep. Bliss stuck like a mailed fist. Ivar groaned. Oh Jesus. Fucking hell. Sasha was more than perfect. She was unbelievable. So incredible she cracked him wide open, tearing at his restraint as he sank between her thighs, and she struggled to accept him. All of him, every last inch he fed h
er. Clenching his teeth, he forced himself to slow down. She was so tight. Much smaller than he’d expected and...God. He didn’t want to hurt her. Or rush her into acceptance. Which left him with only one option—wait for her to adjust to his invasion. A strange reaction. Especially coming from him. Caring wasn’t part of his MO. He took what he wanted...always hit hard and moved fast.

  Show no mercy. Give no quarter. His approach in a nutshell.

  But as Sasha trembled in his arms, something odd happened. He didn’t want the sex to be that way this time. Not with her. Instead of fast and hard, he wanted to treat her well. To be kind and patient for a change. To give her all the pleasure she deserved, and he wasn’t accustomed to providing. A novelty wrapped up in a new experience. One Ivar couldn’t deny. So instead of taking care of himself, he held still, ignoring the urge to move. Brushing the blonde tendrils away from her temple, he cradled her close and set his mouth to the corner of hers.

  “Sasha.”

  Eyes squeezed shut, she quivered against him.

  “Easy,” he murmured, kissing her gently, coaxing her into acceptance. He needed her to move first. The second she relaxed—shifted the slightest bit—he’d know she was ready for him and the ride...for every ounce of ecstasy he wanted to give her. “Look at me, kitten.”

  “Give me a minute. I’m just...and you’re really...”

  “Big?”

  “Egomaniac,” she whispered, a smile in her voice. “Typical man.”

  “Satisfaction guaranteed,” he said, teasing her while he tested her tension.

  Almost there. It wouldn’t be long now. Thread by taut thread, Sasha let go, relaxing against him, making his heart swell and his pride for her grow as she put herself in his care.

  “I hope so,” she said with a wiggle, adjusting their fit. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have dragged you inside.”

  Ivar huffed in amusement. Tightening her grip on him, Sasha squirmed again. He clenched his teeth and bore down, killing the urge to move. Not yet. Jesus...not yet. She needed more time, but as she opened her eyes, giving him what he wanted—loads of eye contact—Ivar almost lost it. Sasha didn’t help him gain control. Breathing hard, looking sexy as hell, she tipped her chin, demanding another kiss. He shook his head, refusing to give her one. He couldn’t and hope to stay in control. The second her mouth touched his, it would be over and...