Artúr groaned as he rolled over and snuggled against the warm naked body curled up on the mattress next to him. He probably shouldn’t have drunk so damn much the night before but the party had been going so well, and the drinks flowing like water.
His head was pounding. Oh wait. That was the door.
With the thought of killing whoever was making his head throb, Artúr rolled to the side of the bed and got to his feet. He winced when his bare feet touched the cold stone floor. He missed the furs he had at home. Artúr stumbled to the large wooden door and flung it open, ready to take the head off of whoever had interrupted his sleep.
“Can I help you?” he asked as he took in the two extremely large royal guards standing in his doorway. Well, they kind of stood just beyond it. They wouldn’t fit in his doorway at the same time. Artúr wasn’t even sure they would fit through the doorway one at a time.
What did they feed these guys?
Oh, right…cows…entire cows.
“Laird Artúr,” one of the guards said in a booming voice that made Artúr wince, “the king has requested your presence in the throne room.”
Artúr blinked. “Now?”
It wasn’t even light out yet. Artúr was pretty sure he had just gone to sleep. And he had really been enjoying himself. The cute little server he had taken to his bed last night was still tucked in his bed, which was exactly where Artúr wanted to be.
When the guard just continued to look down at him with a deadpan expression, Artúr rolled his eyes. These guys had no mercy, or sense of humor. “Do I have time to take a shower?” It wasn’t against the law to appear before the king smelling of sex, but it was kind of rude.
The guard leaned forward and sniffed, his lip curling back in a disgusted grimace. Considering he was standing there stark-ass naked with a gorgeous little blond in his bed, what had created that smell shouldn’t have been surprising.
“Ten minutes,” the guard said.
Or course they would. Both guards turned and took up positions in front of the door. Artúr stared at them for a moment before remembering he only had ten minutes. He shut the door and turned, rubbing his hand down his face as he tried to pull together the inebriated brain cells in his head.
Called before the king.
While the previous night was a little bit of a blur, Artúr was pretty sure he hadn’t done anything that would bring his clan shame or land him in the dungeon. And, while he wasn’t the king’s favorite, he wasn’t his enemy either.
Things had been tense in the highlands, but they were tense everywhere. Relations between humans and dragons had been tense for centuries. It was nothing new. And even if they were tense, there had been no real battles between the two races in several years.
After taking over as laird after his father’s death, he had worked very hard to bring about a truce between his clan and the dragon clutch that shared his highland territory. So far, except for a few small skirmishes by idiots with too much time on their hands and alcohol in their systems, things had been relatively quiet.
Artúr was really hoping to keep it that way.
He walked into the bathroom and climbed into the tub, thankful for the wonderful copper tubing that brought hot water into his bath with the turn of knob. The king was a freaking genius for having these things put in.
Artúr scrubbed down, doing the quickest wash job he had done since military school. Shit, shower, and shave. He had been an expert at getting it done in under ten minutes. Of course, that had been over fifteen years ago. He preferred long hot soaks in the tub nowadays.
Artúr dried himself off just enough so that his clothes wouldn’t stick to his body and then walked back into the bedroom, heading straight to his traveling bag. Thankfully, he had packed for a few days when he had been ordered to attend the king’s coronation—a month-long affair.
He grabbed out a clean pair of black leather pants with matching black leather vest. The white shirt he wore underneath the vest was tight around his torso but loose in the arms, tapering down to his wrists. Artúr finished off his outfit with black leather boots that came up to just below his knees and his silver ceremonial dagger in a sheath at his hip.
Artúr ran his fingers through his hair as he headed for the door, pulled it open, and stepped out. He cast one last regretful look at the gorgeous little man still sleeping in his bed and then shut the door. He would so much rather be back in bed with the sexy little server right now. Attending the king first thing in the morning was not his idea of a good time. Still, an order was an order, and if he was going to be restrained, he preferred to do it with a lover and not the guy in charge of the dungeon…unless he was really cute.
Artúr waved his hand, gesturing down the hallway. “Lead the way.”
Artúr moaned and shifted under the thick blanket. He was having the most amazing dream, but somehow he knew he was waking up from it. He didn’t want it to end. Warm moisture surrounded his cock as suction slowly built, sending his body into a whirlwind of pleasure that he hoped never to recover from.
Shivers coursing throughout Artúr’s body as tingles of sheer delight spread across his skin from the warmth of Dainéal’s body. His legs fell to the side as his head rolled back. This was too much. Dainéal’s tongue was teasing his cock as the dragon lapped at his shaft, running his mouth along the length.
“Shit!” Artúr shouted when Dainéal began to hum around his dick. The vibrations were felt all the way to his toes. Dainéal’s unnaturally long, forked tongue flickered over the very tip of Artúr’s cock, his lips creating a vacuum seal around his shaft, nearly making him come.
Dainéal murmured Artúr’s name around his cock, sending Artúr into a wild frenzy of lust. He began to fuck Dainéal’s mouth in earnest, watching as the head of his cock slid down the dragon’s throat over and over again. Artúr’s legs shook, his body stiffening as his orgasm drew ever closer.
Was it too early to come?
His back arched, and he cried out when Dainéal slid his fingers into Artúr’s ass, making his cum erupt in spurts of white ribbons. Artúr’s head rolled back, his mouth hanging open as his orgasm took over. He was powerless and mindless right now as the feeling of lightning shot through his body.
Artúr blinked, trying to clear his cloudy vision.
“Wha—Oh, mother of pearl!” Artúr’s entire body clenched as he was impaled on the glorious studded dick from his dreams, one that inquisitively poked and prodded in all the right places. The arched ridges that encircled the thick shaft scraped along Artúr’s sweet spot with every thrust.
The astonishing length and impressive girth took Artúr’s breath away. It had been way too many years since he had felt something of that size in his ass.
Glancing up, Artúr saw that Dainéal’s vivid blue eyes burned with an intense hunger that took Artúr’s breath away. The dragon was going to eat him alive.
Artúr closed his eyes and pushed back. One hard thrust buried the thick, steel-hard erection into Artúr’s body to the hilt. Artúr could feel his heart struggling to keep up with the demands his arousal was placing on it as Dainéal began to move inside of him.
“I’m going to fuck you until I come in your hot, tight ass,” Dainéal whispered into Artúr’s ear.
“God, yes!” His throbbing cock bobbed gracefully, the cool air sweeping around its heat, teasing Artúr further. He arched his back higher as a breathless moan escaped his lips “So deep…inside. God, Dainéal…I can feel you.”
Dainéal pounded Artúr’s ass harder. Artúr’s body arched into the dragon’s as Dainéal plunged into him over and over again, thesmall nubs that lined the length of Dainéal’s cock caressing him, enticing him, drawing a moan from deep within his soul. Every inch of his body was hypersensitive and greedy for the man’s touch. Artúr couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t hold Dainéal tight enough. He was desperate, a coil of need tightening inside of him.
Artúr tightened his inner muscles as the ridges that ran from the root of Dainéal’s shaft up to his belly button rubbed along the sensitive sac beneath his cock. There was so much stimulation Artúr didn’t know how much longer he would last.
“Dainéal…oh my…fuck…Dainéal…” It had been so long since he had felt this level of ecstasy. No one he had been with over the last fifteen years had given Artúr this much gratification.
And Dainéal was driving him insane with pleasure as it washed over Artúr’s body. His balls drew up tight against his body, and he knew it wouldn’t be long. Not when Dainéal was fucking him so thoroughly.
“Artúr!” Dainéal cried. “Can’t stop, can’t…”
“Do it!” Artúr said when he saw that Dainéal’s canines had dropped down.