The Fly House (The UtopYA Collection) (39 page)

He put his fingers into her mouth and she wrapped her lips gently around his knuckles.  He felt her tongue pull the meat from his skin and her subsequent groan vibrated in his nail beds. 

"Good, isn't it?" His voice was husky.  Maeve opened her eyes and nodded as he withdrew his fingers.

"So good..." Her voice had dropped to gravel.

Diem dumped the plate as he reached for her.  She dropped the roll.  He caught her in a kiss and eased her to the ground in front of the fire.  The earth was soft beneath them as he slipped off her shirt.  She pulled off his.  They became a jumble of hands, peeling each other's clothes away, tasting the skin beneath as if it were fruit. 

When they were naked, he laid her down on their clothes and kissed her long and deep, spreading her legs with his hips.  His erection grew strong between her thighs and Maeve purred with longing when he sat back and looked down on her sex. 

He decided to test her. 

And, just as he suspected, the purring didn't last once he flipped her onto her stomach.

She rolled over, onto her back again.  Diem laid down on her, plunging his tongue into her mouth, and with his forearm beneath her, he drew up and flipped her again.  This time, he pressed his chest down against her spine as he kissed the back of her neck. 

She thrust a sharp elbow into his ribs.

"No," she grunted.

"What's the matter?" He didn't take his lips from her skin. 

"I'm not doing it with you like this," she said.  "I want to see your face."

It was just as he suspected.  She would not allow herself to be vulnerable.  She needed to keep an eye on him. 

"Trust me," he whispered into her hair.

"I'm not doing it like an animal." Her tone was tight even as he tried to soothe her by pressing his lips beneath her ear. 

"But we are animals."

"I want to see your face," she said again.   

"Maybe you'd be surprised at how good it feels," he whispered. "Would you trust me?"

"It's not about trust," she said, struggling to get out from under him. "It's about you trying to make me your dog." 

"Oh no, it's about trust," Diem said, but he released his hold and let her roll onto her back.  He couldn't be disappointed if he tried; the scenery was best that way anyway.  She tried to argue, but he silenced her with just his tongue and then with his whole body.  They became one pulsing beast in the firelight, clashing with each other's rhythm.  Her words turned to moans as he released her lips. 

***

Maeve woke without Diem beside her.  The floor was warm as she crossed it in bare feet, but once she opened the door, the wintery blast hit her.  She was about to step back when Diem stood from the chair outside.

"Blessings," he said.  He scooted her back inside a step as he leaned in to snatch the blanket from the bed.  Wrapping it around her shoulders, he moved back onto the porch.  When Maeve followed, Diem swept her up, settling her on his lap.  She let him, covering her toes with the edge of the blanket. 

"That's excellent," Diem said, motioning toward Forge's lair.  Maeve's dragon was ambling across the grounds toward the porch and the heathen was twice the size she'd seen him yesterday.  Maeve had had to steel herself against jumping to her feet and running away as the animal lumbered toward them.  It had grown in both size and the appearance of fierceness, but as Maeve tensed, Diem rubbed a small circle on her back.  Trust climbed onto the porch and the dragon angled its nose down toward Maeve, pushing its flat forehead against her affectionately.

Maeve melted. 

"No doubt, he's yours," Diem said.  "If you put on your Cold Season clothes, I can teach you how to guide him."

Maeve was off his lap and dressed before he could ask again.  It was damn nice to be in pants again.  

"Put the guide here," Diem said, pointing to the soft plates at Trust's lower neck.  "Wedge the rein beneath these."

The dragon squealed as if it were in pain and Maeve pulled the rope away.  Diem shook his head, nudging her forward. 

"He's not hurt," Diem told her.  "Don't let him scare you.  A dragon will fight every attempt to be controlled, but if you want to be its master, you have to do it."

"He chose me.  He should trust me," she grumbled.

"Do you trust him?"  Diem said.  Maeve itched her arm, refusing to meet the man's gaze.  The whole training session made her insides feel like they were moving out of time with the Earth, but she knew she had to learn how to do this. 

If she was going to watch out for the Archivers, she had to know how to ride this dragon.  He had to obey her.  And she needed equal footing among the House humans.  Having a dragon was just another little bit of insurance that might help if the House humans turned on Diem and tried to give up her people after all. 

But the only way to train the dragon was to tell Diem the truth.  The truth was, she found herself suddenly terrified by this larger dragon.

"I think he might try to bite me or fry me by accident," she said.  The vulnerability, the truth, made her feel weak, but her gut settled slightly with the admission too.  It was wildly confusing.

"Good," Diem's face broke into a soft grin of relief.  He didn't gloat on her confession, instead he turned his attention back to the young dragon along with her.  "So you're saying you are worried about his mouth mainly."

"What else should I be afraid of?"

She caught Diem's glimpse at the dragon's formidable claws, but she was still more concerned about the flame bursting from the animal's mouth.  She was sure her dragon wasn't the
mauling type.  How she knew it, she couldn't say, but she knew it.

Diem watched her mulling it over and when she snapped back to action, his chin dipped with respect.  For what, she had no idea.  The whole training session seemed to revolve around her instincts rather than her intelligence.  It was unnerving.

Especially when Diem tossed the guide rein aside and told Maeve to climb onto the dragon.

"He's not big enough," Maeve said.  "He's not the size of your dragon."

"He's strong enough.  Get on and when you do, hang on tight with your knees."

"And do what?"

"Don't let him throw you off.  He's going to try, but you've got to hang on."

"Holy sh...what if I can't?"

Diem looked away, rubbing the crease on his forehead.  "He'll try to kill you."

Maeve laughed, expecting Diem to laugh with her.  He didn't. 

"There's no way I'm getting on him," she said.

"You've got to."

"I don't 'got to' anything," Maeve said, but as she turned to walk away—where she was going, she had no clue—he caught her by the arm. 

"You still have to do this," he said.  "I'll be here.  If he tries to throw you, I'll intercede."

There was no confidence in her that 'intercede' meant that he could definitely stop the dragon from goring her to death.  She scowled at the idea.

"I don't think for a moment that you'll let go," Diem said.  There was a challenge to his smirk that set the fire beneath Maeve.  He stuck her in an impossible position
—making her a coward if she walked away, while she was paralyzed at the thought of climbing on the thing that would try to kill her.  What stirred her to action was the coddling in his tone as he encouraged her again.  "Come on.  I'm right here if you can't handle him."

His pity was what she needed to turn to steel.  Who the hell did he think he was?  She didn't need him.  She leaned in close and whispered it.

"Fuck you, Diem.  I don't need your help." 

"You're going to pay for that later," he assured her with a chuckle.  There wasn't a drop of fear in her now, just determination.  She was getting on that dragon and hanging onto that bitch no matter what happened.  The only way Trust could throw her was if her fingers came off first.

The snort blast from Trust didn't deter her, even though it heated her calves right through her boots. 

"Fuck you too," she grumbled to the dragon as she grabbed hold of his neck and slung her leg over the top.  It took a moment for the dragon to realize he was collared, between her thighs.  She clamped her knees to him just in time.  Trust shot into the sky like a rocket fueled by nitrous oxide.  Maeve was thrown back, her spine glued to the dragon's, her head flat at the base of his tail. 

The pressure of the wind tore at the grip of her knees.  She felt herself slip.

"Oh no you don't, bitch..." She clamped her kneecaps to his gelatinous plates, pressing in hard enough that the dragon let out a roar.  Not a squeak or a little burp, but a full roar that was as loud as Forge.  Maeve didn't let go.  When he leveled out, she sat up feeling a little dizzy, but elated. 

Until he bucked.

His spine snapped like a snake shook from the tip of its tail.  The wave of his body bucked beneath her, separating her rear from his back and loosening the grip of her legs. 

"Son of a bitch!" Maeve shrieked.  She dove forward and collared him.  Her arms around his neck, the edges of his plates cut into her biceps, but she didn't let go.  The dragon flung its neck from side to side and on the third swing, Maeve's legs came loose.  She dangled from the animal's neck in midair.  One hard shake and a backward scoop of his wings and he'd be free. 

And she'd be falling to Earth like a jelly-filled brick.

Maeve still wasn't frightened.  She was too pissed for that. 

She threw a leg up over Trust's neck and heaved herself back into the crook between the dragon's neck and body.  She wanted to wring the heathen's neck.  As if in response, the dragon shook again.

Maeve threw her body against him this time.  She wound her limbs around him, feeling the plates sticking into the skin of her arms and legs.  She closed her eyes and held on.  She'd hang on until he stopped.  He had to stop.  He had to—

The dragon stopped.  Carefully, Maeve shifted back into the riding position. 

Trust leveled out as Maeve's breathing returned to normal.  Her double heartbeat became one strong thump at a time.  With the slightest pressure on her knees, she found she could guide Trust easily.  A slide downward and he dove; pulling up her knees as his nose tilted, flying them toward the sky.  It was like steering with a joystick between her knees.  She marveled at how smooth he flew, how her direction kept him straight and level.  As they soared through the clouds, Maeve breathed deep.  She wasn't sure she'd ever felt so connected to anything in all her life.

It was hours before she finally guided Trust back down to the ground.  Diem sat on the ground below, leaning against a
gorne stump, watching as the dragon land with a feather touch. 

"It was..." Maeve began, but the dragon gave a heave.  The snap came from his tail up his back, one last effort to remove her and Maeve wasn't ready for it.  Diem hollered as she pitched forward, over the dragon's head, only managing to grab hold of the tiny tip of Trust's ear as she went, but she held on.  Once she landed, her arm was bent backward over her head.  She was still hanging on as she twirled to face the dragon as she kept his ear pinched between her fingertips.  The dragon squealed, but she didn't let go. 

Maeve pushed the dragon's head down with her free hand.  Diem was saying something behind her, but she blocked his voice out.  Staring straight into Trust's eyes, Maeve didn't blink until the dragon did.  Then she growled to the creature, "I'm getting back on and you're going to let me off right, you hear?"

The dragon didn't move.  She kept hold of its ear as she moved around the side and climbed back on.  Once seated, she pressed her knees firmly into his sides and gave a calm, low whistle.  This time, Trust stayed still as a rock as she dismounted.

"Incredible," Diem breathed.  Maeve walked to him and he took her arms, coating them with a thin glaze of medicine that sealed the wounds from the dragon's plates.

"What?" she said haughtily as she applied the medicine to the cuts on her legs.  "You think you're the only one in the world who can train a dragon?"

The moment she was finished, he picked her up with a whoop and threw her over his shoulder.  He carried her into the shack and kicked the door shut with his foot.  He laid her on his bed, on her stomach, dropping down on his knees.  Without pause, he reached for her, a soft fingertip teasing her through her clothing.

"All I could think of was you riding that dragon naked," he whispered.  "Riding me naked...my hands on you, my mouth on you, and my flex in you."

Any tension that remained in Maeve's body gave way to the exhilaration of what she'd just done, mixed with the sensations of Diem's strong and capable hands on her and his husky voice in her ear.  He'd been thinking of her body.  The thought throbbed between her legs.  She didn't try to fight him when he pulled off her new pants and lifted set on her knees in front of him.  He didn't give her a chance to argue, as he brought his mouth against her sex. 

She forgot to fight as his tongue entered her.  His breath was hot and she rocked against him, pushing him deeper.  He moaned, flicking his tongue inside her, soft and hot.