Loyalty: A Dragon Shifter Menage Serial (Seeking Her Mates Book 4) (3 page)

T
he train ride
was a little more pleasant than the voyage in the car had been, if only for the lack of a surly chauffeur.

The tickets, thanks to Merriman, were for First Class seats, and three companions managed to sit together in a private chamber in an empty car, sealed off from the rest of the world by a clear glass door which allowed them to speak freely without fear of being overheard. Lily had never enjoyed excluding Graeme from interior dialogues, and was pleased to be able to use her speaking voice.

“So,” she said as she sat down, prepared for several hours of quiet with her men. “It seems a silly question, but what are you both thinking? About this trip, this mission of ours, I mean.”

“Well,
I
am thinking that we find this leader person and take him down, which we should be able to accomplish in an hour, tops,” said Graeme, a twinkle in his eye as he revelled in the thought of overthrowing a great leader.

“The ambitious red dragon,” laughed Lily. “If only the world were so simple as it is in your head.”

“All right, I’ll be realistic: an hour and a half. Then we hit the pub.”

“And meanwhile
I’m
thinking that something doesn’t add up,” said Conor, his tone more serious than that of his mates. “How is it that there are all these cloaked types, friends of Merriman, running about in London and elsewhere, allegedly hunting Stranieri, and yet no one has found this elusive leader? No one is
that
good at hiding.”

“Maybe our side just wants peace,” said Lily. “And quiet. Maybe they don’t really want to find him, because it would mean a fight.”

“Pfft. What self-respecting shifter really wants peace and quiet? We’re not exactly homebodies,” said Graeme. “It’s in our blood to seek blood.”

“
You’re
not a homebody, perhaps. But some are.” Lily was thinking of Freya, her grandmother. “Some prefer a quiet life to the curse of constant battling.”

“Well, it also seems that some are members of long-lasting underground movements, and a little more quiet about it all,” said Conor. “Like Merriman, for example. For all that I tried to extract information from him, I mostly failed. But I do believe that he is ancient, as he says. And he would like to rid the world of these shifters—whoever they are—who are so bent on taking out the dragons of the world in every century, or at least rid them of that ambition. Merriman doesn’t love dragons, but nor does he hate them. He sees their good.”

“Which, I suppose, is noble of him,” Graeme added. “Given that it sounds as though he’s had his fair share of conflict with our species.”

“He is a good man,” said Lily quietly. Of that she was certain, regardless of all of the other questions that spun in circles in her mind about the odd man and his owl companion. “There’s a part of me that wishes he could have come along.”

“Well, he said he’d see us soon, and he’s a man of his word,” said Conor. “Though I think a Merry sighting is an omen of unpleasant things to come. Now come, let’s get off this topic of doom and talk about what we’ll do when we arrive at our hotel.”

His face took on the familiar mischievous look that so enthralled Lily and meant that no mind-reading was necessary. He had sex on the brain.

“
W
hy wait for hotel rooms
?” asked Graeme, who reached a hand towards the panes of glass separating the three from the narrow hallway outside their small compartment.

Opaque off-white blinds shot downwards in rapid succession, covering the windows and sliding door, and concealing the three shifters from view.

“Your skills are improving, Lord Ramsey,” said Lily. “I’m impressed, to say the least.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Graeme said, leaning in towards her. “Wait until you find out what I can do with my…”

“Someone will be by for tickets,” said Conor, breaking the mood with an unfortunate moment of reality. “And it’s probably not a great idea to be naked when they arrive.”

“Silly man, spoiling the fun,” Graeme laughed. “You have a point, I suppose. Fine, I’ll stand on first watch. When I return, though, I expect to have my way with our Firebird here.”

Lily feigned shock. “Using my poor, innocent body for sex,” she gasped. “Suppose I should turn you two down?”

“All right, Lady Lilliana,” said Conor, allowing himself to be taken in by the naughtiness of the situation. “Let me ask you point blank, as it’s the polite thing to do: Would you, my Lady, like to be fucked in our private, first-class chamber here, by not one, but
two
men who are awfully keen on you?”

She leaned towards him, taking in his scent. Something in it had changed since the Ritual; he’d become enticing in an entirely new way which sent the beast inside her into a frenzy of excitement; she didn’t know whether to bite at him or kiss him.

“Mr. Dunbar, I would very much like to be fucked,” she growled. “Right here. Right now. I’m only appalled that it’s taking you so long to take off your trousers.”

“Well, that tears it,” said Graeme. “You’re sending me out into the hallway with a hard-on. Cruel.”

“Lucky for you,” said Lily, looking sideways at Graeme as she pulled Conor towards her, “I specialize in curing hard-ons.”

Graeme laughed and slid through the briefly opened door, standing casually in the narrow aisle outside, whistling and watching the passing landscape as his companions did whatever it was that needed doing, three feet or so behind him.

L
ily took
Conor by the collar and pulled him aggressively to her, his knees hitting the car’s floor with a thud as he thrust his muscled thighs between her legs, pushing them apart.

“What is it with you?” she asked. “Your change has made me want you even more, and I never thought that was possible.”

“I suppose you like big, hairy beasts,” he said, his fingers exploring her collarbone. “Rather like how I enjoy big, beautiful breasts.”

She wore a loosely-draped cotton shirt with a wide neck, which Conor wanted to tear away. Instead, he pulled at its waist, yanking it upwards and over her head.

Her bra was white, its fabric thin, and the dark of her nipples pierced through. Conor leaned down, his tongue teasing the right, the tender, aching tip rising, pushing through the fabric to reach out to him, asking already for more and more.

Lips pursed around the puckered nub, sucking, as his hands went to the button on her pants, opening them expertly before sliding her zipper downward.

When he’d saturated the area around the first nipple he tore at the other cup, freeing the second, already erect, waiting impatiently for his mouth.

Lily raised her hips, letting him slide her pants and panties down as she navigated, somehow keeping her knees close enough together to allow him to render her almost completely naked.

“How did this happen?” she asked. “You fully clothed, me…”

Conor leaned up and kissed her, interrupting the thought.

It’s as it should be,
he explained, his words penetrating her mind.
Because I want to suck, lick, kiss and pierce every bit of you with my tongue.

He showed her what he meant as he kissed her, his luscious tongue caressing her own as though to say, “Remember me? I’m the guy who likes to lick your pussy until you explode.”

Kisses rained down on her body, beginning with her neck as she raised her chin to grant him free access, and then her shoulders, her upper arms: soft, tender series of touches of the lips, his hands moving from her waist up to her breasts, which he cupped, supporting their roundness as his thumbs ran gently over her hard nipples.

Lily’s pelvis gyrated beneath him, her hips attempting to thrust themselves towards his, telling him how ready she was to receive some attention down there.

“Patience,” the voice said in her mind. “I’m working towards that juicy pussy of yours.”

Again, a tongue ran over one nipple and then the other, the thumbs working them over, caressing the wetness, spreading it around the areola and teasing the tip itself. Lily ached, her slit pulsing for his touch, for his fingers, tongue, cock.

As he peeled away her bra, letting it drop, Conor’s mouth worked its way down her belly; the soft whiteness that had always made her self-conscious, but which now seemed like a shrine at which the gorgeous man worshiped, her hands in his unkempt hair, his bright eyes focused on her smooth skin as he took her in, here giving her a gentle bite; there a kiss or a lick.

And finally, her thighs. He kissed the white surface, a hand sliding between her legs, its side landing softly on her delicate petals, prying them apart and smoothing her own wetness all over his own flesh before looking into her eyes.

She stared back into his and said only one word:
Please.

Conor’s thumb traced a line along her shaved flesh, caressing the area around her swelling clit, asking
Here?

That’s good. But more…

Here?
He slid the tip downwards on the other side, so that he’d outlined her opening, just barely avoiding contact with her clit.

A little to the left…

He dipped his thumb into her, a fountain pen dousing itself in ink, and then extracted it, drawing a line along her opening, upwards, until it made contact with the bundle of nerves that caused her back to arch under his touch, eyes slamming shut.

Yes.

He kneaded her gently, thumb digging in, reminding her just how sensitive she was as he moved in small spirals against her, his cock hardening to painful levels. Lord, he wanted to infiltrate her.

I’m going to do a few things to you, Lilliana. I’m going to get down between your thighs and shove my mouth into your perfect pussy. I will fuck you a little with my tongue, which will make you squirm. And then I’ll lick you, and suck a little on this…
with those words, he deepened the pressure of his thumb’s tip.
I’m going to read your mind, feel you approach your orgasm as though it were my own. And when you come, I am going to have to peel off my trousers and fuck you with the cock that’s now in agony, dreaming about your tightness.

Lily couldn’t think of words to express a response. Instead her eyes, their many colours dancing in a spectrum of light, invited him to do with her anything that he willed. Words, for once, were unnecessary.

Conor knelt between her knees, the gentle rocking of the train causing his body to sway in shallow waves as he showed her what he’d described.

At first his tongue dabbled as his fingers pulled at her lips, exposing her delicacy to him, and as she looked down at his wild hair, his closed eyes and his expert tongue, she felt herself tighten and swell under his touch.

Only the tip of his tongue touched her, almost timidly, once, twice, as her entire body shuddered, every nerve center aimed at this one place. And so he did it again, enjoying her helplessness as he tasted her once more, this time flattening his tongue against her, lapping at her delicious opening, his tip slightly penetrating her to remind her of what was coming once he’d satisfied her.

Her fingers went to his thick hair, twisting themselves in and holding his head, not forcing, but maintaining, as though to insist upon more of the same perfection.

And he obliged, moaning with pleasure at her taste and texture; her perfect wetness, the dewy petals which responded so well and so loyally to his touch.

He nuzzled her now with his lips, taunting her flesh as she squirmed in her seat. She revelled in her own nakedness, in the knowledge that her other lover was just outside the door, awaiting his turn, and no doubt finding ways to turn away anyone who wanted entry. Entry to her domain would be for the two men only; they had proven themselves worthy.

It was when Conor’s lips tugged at her that she began to surrender to the sensation, to feel herself submerged in liquid, floating, as though moving to another time and place isolated from every concern in the universe. If only life could remain so carefree…

Gently he pulled on her, his lips taking her in, his tongue stroking her rapidly, and then his fingers were working her again, sliding over her slick chasm, seeking entry. She welcomed them by tightening as they penetrated her, squeezing them together as her body neared climax.

“Don’t hate me if I come,” she breathed, her words a hoarse whisper. “I want you so much…”

In response Conor slowed his pace, easing his fingers out and in again as he stroked at her bud, relentlessly urging her towards orgasm, both for what it would mean for her and for him.

As he felt her muscles grasp him in the first swell, he kept his mouth on her and pulled his fingers out, reaching quietly down to undo his trousers. His thick shaft was threatening to burst through, and needed badly to find its home inside her.

As he ate her, he managed to pull them off, down over his feet, throwing his shoes into a corner. She came in waves, wanting to laugh at his acrobatics but helpless to even consider movement; he had her trapped inside her own body, each surge increasing in intensity.

This time Conor didn’t ask permission; he got onto his knees and plunged inside her as she continued to come, the next pulse engulfing his swollen cock as he thrust inside, her body milking his already.

He groaned at the sensation, warning his tight balls not to betray him by releasing too soon. She was so, so tight for him; so ready.

He lifted her feet over his shoulders and rose, crouching before her, plunging into her once more as she stifled a cry.

“Hard,” she said. “You can take me so hard.”

With that he pulled back and launched himself into her once again, eyes locked on hers. Much as her body was perfection it was her face that truly aroused him; that was the cause of all of the blood in his own body rushing to the cock which ached inside her, wanted to unleash its heat within that beautiful form.

It was the intelligence in her eyes; the mischief, the humour, the determination in her that he…loved.

Yes, loved.

He pounded her now, fast and furious, rebelling against the word as though physical power would subdue it, take away its strength. Love meant potential pain. Love meant loss. This moment was about pleasure; pure, animal pleasure, the creature inside him letting a tremendous roar as the dragon’s fingers came around to his back and raked at his flesh, her nails leaving parallel red evidence of their passion.