When Josiah defies a powerful man to save his sister, he is left as a sacrifice to the mountain dragon. To his shock, instead of being killed, he is given a chance of a new life.
Drawn to the dragon, Alaric, Josiah yearns for more than friendship and finds it could be possible. He could be part of triad mating with Alaric and his mate, Krystos, who is away serving as guard to the dragon king.
When Krystos returns, a tragic misunderstanding almost shatters them before they begin, yet Josiah will not give up the opportunity fate has offered.
But how can they claim him, a human?
Except, Josiah could be more than he appears. When Alaric is threatened while Krystos is pulled back into royal duty, it will be up to Josiah to save him.
If Josiah is strong enough to embrace what sleeps deep within his blood.
With all that I had learned, I dared to think that I would soon be able to call Alaric friend with no reservations still in my heart.
Yet, surprisingly, it was not the fear of his being dragon that caused those few misgivings. It was my own folly. The way I would catch myself studying the way his pants clung to his body, defining every muscled line. The rounded curves of his buttocks that made my hands itch to touch when he bent over to pick something off the floor.
The sharp definition of his chest and shoulders as he moved furniture around in my room to make it more my own.
And sometimes I would swear that he looked at me the same.
It was confusing and terribly exciting at the same time. If he gave me one word of encouragement I thought that I might just throw caution to the wind and offer myself for his pleasure.
Or just crook his finger in my direction.
Every night when he wished me a good night's rest I would perceive a faint yearning in his gaze and my breath would catch, as I wondered—hoped—that this night might be the one where he asked me to keep him company in his room.
But he never did.
This night I was tossing and turning in my bed, unable to sleep because of the fevered dreams of Alaric caressing me, kissing me, fucking me when I heard a strange noise coming from the other room.
I rose from my bed and started to investigate. Then I hesitated halfway across the chamber that separated our bedchambers. Yet, there it was again. Almost sounding like a pained groan. My breath caught.
Was he ill?
Another, deeper moan drifted to me and I knew I had to make sure he was alright. So I pulled the curtain slightly to one side, just enough that I could peek through and check on him.
My gaze went first to the bed that was much larger than mine but it was empty. I started searching the room, finally coming to a stop as my jaw dropped open in shock.
Alaric was not ill.
Oh my Gods above!
Across the room from me, Alaric sat on the edge of a heavy wooden, armless chair that sat against the wall, legs spread wide as he leaned back.
One hand was pinching his nipple, bringing it to a stiff point before transferring his attention to the other one. The remaining hand was pulling and squeezing on his large, furry balls. His long, thick cock jerking in time to his pulls, slapping his belly, leaving a thin rope of pre-cum as it bounced away. He was beautiful and mesmerizing.
I could not tear my gaze away. I licked my lips as I imagined walking over to him, dropping to my knees, and taking him so far down my throat that I would choke on him. My dick hardened to its full length, so aroused it was already leaking fluid.
When he stood, I froze in fear. Had he seen me spying on him? Was he going to be angry that I had not turned away from his display, invading his privacy? But I quickly realized that he had other plans.
There, in the middle of the seat, which had been hidden from my gaze was a cock. Carved, smooth and made of a marbled stone, it was slightly curved and almost as large as the one between Alaric's legs. I watched shamefully, lustfully, as Alaric dipped his fingers into a bowl on a small table and coated the stone cock in a shiny substance.
When he straddled the dick, pressing the tip to his ass, I shoved a hand in my mouth to prevent my moan of need from escaping. When he made a pained sound, I clenched my jaw, watching while he pressed down, swallowing the tip into his channel.
My other hand snaked its way down my body to rub against my rod, pushing aside my nightshirt, as Alaric reached above him to two metal posts that were fixed to the wall. I held back a whimper as he used those to push down, forcing his body to take the stone cock all the way in until his balls slapped the seat and he groaned in gratification.
Alaric started moving, hard and fast plunges that had pained pleasure written all over his face. I watched him fuck himself on the chair harder and harder, rubbing and squeezing my dick as I continued to muffle my cries into my other hand. Just when I knew I was going to hit that hot crest of desire, Alaric threw back his head as ropes of thick, creamy cum shot all over his belly and chest. The pleasure that covered his face was what had my cock spilling the wet heat of my orgasm, soaking the soft nightshirt as I swallowed down my moans.
Still shaking from the intensity of my release, I let go of the curtain and hurried back to my room on unsteady legs, hoping that I managed to flee quietly—embarrassed that I had watched such a private moment, yet knowing deep inside I was praying to experience it all over again.