Free DragonGames by Jory Strong Page A

asked.
    “No.” She didn’t dare, though she opened
her eyes to watch him help himself to one, pouring what looked like Dragon’s
Flame from a crystal decanter on the desk before sitting at the poker table and
shuffling the cards.
    She became transfixed by the sight of his
hands, found it all too easy to imagine them on her skin, light against dark. A
shiver of need went through her and she pressed her thighs together.
    Heat crept up her neck and into her face at
remembering the flare of masculine nostrils as she’d made her way to the
office, as if the men who’d parted so she could pass had scented her arousal
and wondered just how wet her panties were.
    Tielo scooped the cards up. His gaze
lifted. Halted, his attention caught on the hand she hadn’t been aware of—her
own at the front of her dress, loosening the top buttons.
    “Take it off,” he said, dominant, intense,
making her channel spasm and her womb flutter.
    She licked her lips, made a vain effort to
tell herself she’d been trying to cool down, not unconsciously extending an
invitation.
    A silent laugh marked the lie. Cooling down
was an impossibility in Tielo’s presence.
    He was all man. What a dragon would be if it took a human form.
    Possessiveness stamped his expression. The
look he sent her made her feel like his woman, but rather than
diminishing, it emboldened, infusing her with feminine power.
    Without looking at the two cards he’d
dealt, she said, “If you win. I’ll take it off. As a side bet.”
    Play moved fast because of the challenge.
Anticipation heightened with flop and turn and finally the river card, so she
wasn’t sure who the winner would be, or who she wanted it to be.
    Her flush beat his nothing. He doubled that
victory by standing and slowly unbuttoning his shirt, then peeling it from his
body and tossing it casually onto what was probably Pierce’s desk.
    A whimper escaped. A needy sound to
accompany the throbbing heat centered in her pussy and clit.
    Her mouth watered and she caught herself
leaning forward, hungering to kiss his smooth chest, to use her tongue to trace
the dragon curled around a masculine nipple pierced with an onyx-studded
barbell.
    “It’s you,” she murmured, loving the deep
rumble of his laugh.
    “Yes, it’s me.”
    The torso and head of the beast were gold,
but its crest and the underside of its wings were silver. It was beautiful
artwork, capturing masculine mischievousness as well as predatory interest. She
wanted to press her lips to it, to torment the nipple at its center, flicking
the barbell before capturing and sucking as her hands stroked over taut abdomen
on their way to hard cock.
    He sat and another whimper escaped, this
one a sound of protest, of frustrated feminine need. But she rallied, saying,
“I’m surprised the dragon isn’t anatomically correct.”
    “You’ve seen a male in his first form?”
    There was a growl in his voice, as if he
were wondering if she’d come to Drake’s Lair before. His expression said that
imagining her with anyone else was unacceptable.
    Ditto. She didn’t want to think of him
playing private games with another female.
    “This is my first encounter with dragons.”
    She smiled at how thoroughly she’d been
sucked into the role-playing, understood better how it was with her sister’s
BDSM lifestyle.
    Waving in the direction of his chest, she
said, “There’s nothing to distinguish the males from the females.” Though she
was absolutely certain the beast on his skin was male.
    His laugh was low and deliciously wicked.
“Dragon cocks are sheathed inside the body. They emerge only during coupling.
There’s a reason virgins made an acceptable tribute from villagers who wanted
to keep their fields and buildings from being scorched. Mating between species
is possible, and extremely pleasurable.”
    He touched the tattoo, masculine fingers
capturing the barbell-studded nipple, playing with the piercing in the way she
wanted to.
    “Imagine what