A Reverse Harem Dragon Fantasy
from Ava Sinclair.
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Three dragon lords saved me. Now they plan to make me their own.
When the ShadowFell dragon destroyed my village, I alone survived the slaughter. A Drakoryan rescued me from where I clung to life in the bottom of a well. From the moment Lord Turin saw me, he was determined that he and his brothers would take me for a mate.
To do so would mean breaking the rules. Drakoryans bring mates to the empire only by special permission of the witches. But as war begins with the ShadowFell, everything has changed. The villagers from across the mountains have been brought here for protection. The time of sacrifice is at end, and the Lords of Za’vol are being allowed to take me as a specially designated mate – a War Bride.
I should be grateful that the Drakoryans saved me. But I know what they are. They are drake shifters. How can I accept their dragon side, when it was a dragon that robbed me of everyone and everything I held dear?
The Lords of Za’Vol are determined to mate with me, to form a lasting bond despite my fear of them. But I want something in return. I want to be brave, so brave that no man or beast can ever hurt me again. If the Drakoryans are to claim me, they must train me to fight.
“What do you know of coupling, Isla of Branlock?” His voice is thick with desire. His cock bobs towards my hand, as if encouraging me to reach for it. I think of my mother, who raised me and my sisters to be of good character, and how she would chide me for my boldness. Still, I was always curious, and prone to eavesdrop on the young wives who went to the well to draw water.
“I know that is a cock.” I nod towards the eager rod of flesh. “It goes between my legs. Some of the women of the village said the first time hurts.” I feel my brow furrow with sudden misgiving. “Will it be worse for me? The men of my village were not so large as you, so their cocks …”
He sits up, his eyes flashing. “What do you know of their cocks?”
I pull my hand away, angry at his tone. “Women talk. All I know I learned from listening.”
Turin sighs. “Forgive me. Dragons are jealous of what is theirs.” He lifts a hand to cup my face. “There may be pain, but it will be lessened if your body is properly prepared.”
He raises himself to his knees. His cock juts from his groin like a fleshy sword. Turin reaches for the hem of my shift and lifts it over my head. His eyes caress my naked body. He trails a finger from the top of my shoulder downward, mimicking how I touched him. I feel a tingle along the path of his finger. The soft throb between my legs increases. I am wet.
“That feeling is your woman’s desire.”
I look up at him curiously. “How do you know where my desire is hidden? It is easy to see on a man.”
He chuckles. “A Drakoryan’s sense of smell is as strong as his sight. I can scent your sweet arousal, Isla of Branlock, the ambrosia of your honeyed musk. It’s but a trickle now. Let me make it flow.”
Turin wraps an arm around my waist and lowers his huge head. I feel a sudden hot, wet pressure on the right nipple of my breast. Pleasure tears through me like a spear that lodges in my quivering core. I understand now. I feel a ripple low in my belly and a steady throb that corresponds with the pulses of his mouth. The room resounds with a woman’s lusty cry. I realize the cry is mine. My head is thrown back. My long hair tickles the back of my calves as I arch my body towards the huge man holding me. The pad of his forefinger slips through the seam of my pussy, stroking the swollen folds of my inner flower. At the apex of my cleft, Turin’s deft touch finds a spot that has me moving hungrily and mindlessly against his hand.
I want to ask him what he is doing, but the words don’t come. While the women of my village spoke of pleasure, nothing could have prepared me for this. Turin’s lips press against my neck. He moves around to clutch the pale mounds of my buttocks, squeezing and spreading them. A finger slips between to caress the rosebud of my anus.
His hands are everywhere. His mouth is, too. I am helpless again as he lays me on the bed, but this is not a fight I want to win. I think of Jayx’s words and realize he was right. In this moment, the burdens of my past are lifted as I find solace in pure, feral pleasure that drives everything from my mind, even if for just a moment.
Turin spreads my legs. He is between them, peering down. His finger presses against the entrance of my virgin pussy. He looks at me with slight concern. “You are well guarded here, too, my little warrior. You will have to be brave as I shatter this shield.”
What does he mean? He does not give me time to question it. Turin slides between my legs. I feel the head of his cock press against the sensitive bud of flesh. It nudges and moves like a finger, hot and quivering, teasing the need from within. He takes my hand and lowers it so that I grip the length of his cock. I feel the surface change from smooth to ridged under my hand. I feel his girth diminish, compressed under my touch.
“I don’t want to hurt you any more than I have to.” Those are the last words he speaks before pulls both my hands above my head, before the cock teasing the tiny pleasure center of flesh slips down and slides into my need-slick pussy. My vision goes red from a sharp, unexpected pain and I scream into the mouth that has found mine.
I’m angry. I feel betrayed. He hurt me. I pull my hands from his grasp and he rises up on his arms, absorbing my pain as I pummel his chest with my clenched fists.
“Sssshhh,” he says, even as he allows me to thrash him. “Wait, my little fighter. Wait.”
My blows grow less violent as the pain recedes to be replaced by the soft throb that made me open my legs in the first place. Hands that struck now move to claw at his back with renewed need. I am mewling like a hungry kitten as Turin begins to move, his deep, certain laugh mingling with my animal cries of desire.
There is a shadow of soreness, but it is eclipsed by the pleasure as his cock soothes me with its first strokes. I feel my hips move of their own accord, following his motions with clumsy sweetness. Turin is smiling down at me. His golden eyes are gray again, and filled with caring. I close mine, unable to take all of what he offers. It feels like too much.
Variety is the spice of life and Ava Sinclair writes a little something for everyone, from dark romance to menage to kinky AF age play. But the one thing that is consistent in her books are strong storylines, alpha males, and strong women whose hearts and bodies aren't given up without a fight.
Ava lives in southern Virginia, where she enjoys hoarding books, hiking, running, spoiling her cats, and spending time with her Eurasian eagle owl, Lucius.
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