Dragon Romance: Dragon Fire (Paranormal Shapeshifter Hero Protector Firefighter Romance) (Fantasy Shifter Werewolf BBW Pregnancy Women’s Fiction Short Stories) (77 page)

I keep my hands and mouth busy for at least fifteen minutes. Slowly, she changes from a woman being taken, to a woman who’s given herself up for the taking. Her eyelids close almost all the way. I can still see her pupils, but it doesn’t matter. She’s not in there anymore. She’s living in her breasts, nipples and pussy and the sensations I giving her.

She’s breathing like the bellows in an old time blacksmith’s shop; very deep, very complete and very slow.

She twitches and groans. I get one arm under her butt and tilt her forward on my shoulder. She happily rests on my shoulder as I carry her to the bed. Midway, I hear a very small, faint voice say, “Stop. Hold me.”

As I bring my arm around her, she folds her arms against her chest and snuggles against me. I’m glad my bearish self has the capacity to be gentle and slow when it’s required. I actually rock back and forth. She gives me a little whine that’s part satisfaction and part submissiveness every time she exhales.

After a minute still in the middle of the floor, she breathes, “Thank you. Let’s go to bed.”

Not just yet, little missy. I sit on the edge of the bed and let her fall to her knees on the floor between my legs. She’s a little confused until she sees my cock.

She gives a little start as if she just noticed I have one and scrambles up to take it in her mouth.

There is no greater compliment or evidence of arousal than a woman taking the man’s cock in her mouth. I know some women don’t like it. That doesn’t change anything.

She sucks strongly. I can feel it with every nerve ending in my body. She adds her hands to the action. I’ve never felt anything this good.

Sooner than I want to, I pull her up to me and roll her onto the bed. I put her under me. My bear side wants this woman. It wants her underneath; spread out, accepting and open. This is when I truly take her for my own. My bear isn’t a sensitive, new age man. He doesn’t cry at movies or know how to set a table.

She looks up at me. Her eyes are open. Her face is happy and content. She’s where she wants to be. I’m going to do to her what she wants me to do.

I don’t hesitate. I spread her lower lips and push my hips forward. I feel her pussy part in front of me. She groans and twists as I fill her in one sure penetration.

She looks at the wall to the side of us, but her eyes have lost their use again. Her entire being is centered inside her sheath. (Sorry, ‘vagina’ is not a graceful word. I don’t use it.)

My cock touches the end of her tunnel. I lift her knees up to her shoulders and say, “Hold these.” She hooks her hands under her knees and brings them further up her body and spreads them to the side until they almost touch the bed. She’s completely open to my lust. My bear doesn’t love yet, he lusts.

I lean forward to get more of my cock inside her. She groans. There’s pain mixed in with the pleasure. My bear notices it but doesn’t care. It isn’t relevant to him. I push forward again and feel her insides stretch. She groans deeply again. I push again.

My pubic bone rests against hers. I can rub directly against her delightful clit. Every time I ravage it with my hard bone, she shakes and grunts. I keep doing it.

We get to the main event. Her tunnel is drenched in her own liquids. It’s open enough to let me penetrate and withdraw with ease. I know if I lift my body up slightly, my cock will pull against the upper part of her tunnel, stimulating her clitoris. I build up a nice rhythm. She matches it.

Remember what I said about finding something the woman likes and continuing it without change? We’re there. I keep us in this zone for as long as I can. I can’t see a clock, but I wouldn’t be surprised if we stayed in the same cadence for twenty minutes.

And then it hits her without warning. She cries out and stops moving. Her back arches and she rolls back on the top of her head. Her eyes follow until only the white shows. Her arms thrash around without coordination or purpose, and her body twitches and lunges from side to side.

I can tell she’s having trouble breathing. Her muscles are all clenched and won’t allow her to expand her chest.

Her legs straighten above me and her feet curl inward.

A new smell fills the room. Women give off a different scent before, during and after their orgasm. Hers is strong, and the most feminine thing I’ve ever encountered.

Her hips bump up forcefully against me. She’s lunging them off the bed up into my hips. Each time she does it, my cock pushes hard against the end of her sheath. She cries out each time because it hurts, and because she needs it.

She trembles and jerks without coordination for another minute. I can see her eyes come to me from time to time. I can see why. She’s looking at me for confirmation that I’m taking care of her, that she isn’t just a hole in a side of beef to me. No matter that state of the relationship; in this situation, the woman abandons ownership of her body to the man inside her. He must take active possession of her and carry her forward, in safety, to the next stage of lovemaking.

She settles down. She glows and touches my cheek. I’m thoroughly satisfied with my performance. My bear is quite nice, very physical and aggressive, but caring. Good job.

However, there is something that needs to happen. My cock is hard as cement, straight as a steel rod and about to burst. I look down at her and she nods. At the same time, I feel her internal muscles squeeze around me. It feels like she’s trying to milk the semen from my body.

I have no objection to that. I pump several more times and penetrate her as hard and deep as I can. I must have rammed the end of her tunnel painfully. Her expression doesn’t change.

I feel my spunk flow through my cock like water through a fire hose, rushing against the end of her tunnel, and up through her. I pump for thirty seconds, at least.

I’ve never delivered this much semen in my life.

Every bit of energy inside my body feels like it’s leaving, along with my semen. My muscles turn to jelly. I can’t support myself any more. I have to let myself down on top of her.

I’m gratified and relieved when she welcomes me with her arms and legs.

I weigh 240 pounds. She couldn’t weigh over 120. She makes a very satisfied sound when I’m pressing on her. I’m not strong enough to hold myself up. She’s being pushed into the mattress with a weight double her own. I look at her to see if she’s uncomfortable. She beams like the morning sun. Her arms stroke my back and hold my neck and head. I can feel her cheek caressing mine.

We lie like that for a long time. She gets a bigger and bigger smile. She sees me notice it and says, quietly and calmly. “This is my favorite part. You’re holding me completely. I can still feel you inside me, and I can smell you. I like the smell of a man.”

I’m weak and depleted. But I manage to say, “Good. I’m glad.”

She finally pushes me off and goes to the bathroom. When she comes out, she shoves me on my back and snuggles under my arm with her cheek on my chest. You’ll notice she’s pushing and shoving. This time it’s different. She is simply a woman who knows what her emotions need and moves her man until she gets it.

We rest like that for an hour. We don’t have the television on. We don’t talk. We don’t even move, except for the time she changes position. She likes to lie on top of me with her legs spread on either side and listen to my heart.

After we’ve rested up, I become aware of her nipples on my chest and her pussy rubbing my cock. As soon as I get hard, we do it again.

It takes a full twenty four hours to satisfy my bear. The next day, having had no sleep at all, we stand in the middle of the room where I howled at the ceiling. We’re covered with sweat and our own fluids and completely, totally exhausted. I’d given her five orgasms and three more loads of semen. I’m back to fully human.

I walked around her, counting bruises. She happily shows me all of them and tells me what part of my body made them. She seems very proud of them.

She’s chattering away like we’re old friends. I take her in my arms and hold her. She smiles up at me. I can’t take it any more. I say, “What changed? I’m very happy with the new you, but I’m curious. You’re being really nice to me. You weren’t before. What happened?”

She pulls me over to the couch and has me sit down. She sits down next to me and rubs my naked leg with her hand. She says, “Tell me what happened at Latakia on December 13
th
last year.”

I know that date. I still have nightmares about that date. “That’s when we wandered off course and almost died.” She looks expectant, like she knows what’s coming and wants to have it out in the open. More than that, she looks like she’ll enjoy hearing about it again.

I said, “I had a squad of brand new SEALS, just out of training. We were supposed to be practicing coming ashore on a peaceful beach near the Syrian/Turkish border. The ship dropped us off at the wrong spot. We were coming ashore on a completely Syrian beach at a time when the Syrians were very angry with us. We dragged our rubber boats up the sand, and soldiers on the hillside fired down on our position.”

I have to pause. All of the sounds and smells of that day wash over me. It isn’t pleasant. “I knew my squad hadn’t faced any live fire yet. They’d been training, and nothing else. The first time you receive real bullets, your brain shuts down. It doesn’t matter who you are. If you haven’t experienced that level of noise and danger, you can’t function.”

I can’t talk any more. My throat closes up. She holds my hand. I take some deep breaths and continue, “I made sure all of my men had cover and went from position to position encouraging them and helping use their weapons effectively. Our radioman contacted our ship and brought in an air strike. We got in our rubber boats and went home. I didn’t think I’d done anything special. I was lucky not to be killed, but I didn’t think much more about it.”

She leans over and kisses me. “Until they gave you the Silver Star.”

“The Major let you read my file.”

“You shouldn’t be shy to talk about your service record,” she says. She turns on the sofa so she can face me. “In high school, not only were you tall and skinny, you were in the chess club, the debate team and the French club. How was I supposed to know you’d changed?”

I say, “Oh,” and take a deep breath. “I don’t tell anybody my wartime exploits because most people don’t believe me.” I give her a little kiss. “For the first time, I’m glad somebody found out. It changed your mind about me. I always thought you were pretty, but...”

She looks down. She’s ashamed. I’d never seen that before. She says, “I didn’t treat you very well. There was a reason for that. I come from a military family. My father was very strict and had ideas about how boys were supposed to act. His ideas were wrong. Not his heart. He loved us, but he taught us to look down on anyone who wasn’t physically strong or couldn’t defend themselves. When I joined the Navy, I brought those ideas with me. When I looked at you, I remembered the high school kid who wouldn’t survive a fight with a bully. You were soft back then and that’s what my dad looked down on. I couldn’t get that out of my head. I know this is wrong too, but my dad is still making me think the way he does.”

“I understand. It’s brutal, but according to the military mind, it’s understandable. Before I bulked up, I couldn’t fight. You realized I wasn’t like that any more, that I’d become the strong, effective man you wanted, and your opinion of me changed.”

“I’m sorry. I know that makes me seem like a bad person. I know I tend to dismiss anybody who doesn’t measure up to my standards. I don’t like myself when I’m like that. I don’t know what to do about it.”

“We’ll figure something out. For right now, let’s just relax a little. Letting my bear go wears me out.”

“Letting your bear go wears me out and gives me bruises and muscle aches!”

I pull her close. “Was it alright, though? Was it too bad?”

She swings her leg over mine and sits on my legs facing me. She bends over, holds my face in her hands and kisses me comprehensively. “It was wonderful. I don’t think we can do that every night. Our bodies won’t take it. But, I liked being the possession of an aggressive, dangerous man and being taken like some slave girl captured in a raid. We’ll do it again.”

The next day, the Major gives us a briefing. He says, “We’ve got new intel and it’s not pleasant. It starts with something we found on the computer Lieutenant Baldwin tapped into. The man wrote home and mentioned the ‘Mother of all Bombs’ and the ‘Cercle de la mort’, which is French for ‘circle of death’; a rising terrorist organization.

“In 2003, the United States developed a super bomb called the ‘Massive Ordnance Air Blast’, or MOAB. It turned out to have limited tactical use, and we only made twelve of them. They are unbelievably powerful, equal to eleven thousand tons of TNT. That’s enough to wipe out everything within a thousand yards. When I say ‘wipe out’, I’m using the biblical meaning which is that one stone will not sit atop another. Complete devastation.”

He pauses. I told you how uncomfortable these pauses make me. He gives us bad news then hesitates before he gives us even worse news.

He continues, “We gave the bombs to the United Nations, hoping they could find a use for them. Well, one of the bombs is missing. It was stored in a supposedly secure facility in Vancouver. They’re small enough to be transported by truck. Our intel tells us that the circle of death is in possession of that stolen bomb right now.”