Tropical Dragons Series Box Set - Naomi Lucas Page 0,160

grumble, glancing down at myself.

I’m soaked. At least the blood has washed away, but I’m standing in a pool of water. Testing my limbs, I find nothing broken. There are only scratches and bruising. And even the bruising wasn’t that bad. My scales shielded me from much of the blows.

“I’m not hurt.”

“Good.”

With one last look around Iskursu’s home, I move to his side, approaching the fire. He tenses but doesn’t move away.

Instead, his tail drifts near me. I itch to run my fingertips over it. If Iskursu was a Titanoboa, then he’d be able to swallow me whole. Thankfully, he isn’t one.

He’s my naga boy.

And he’s staring at me. It’s making me twitchy. This sudden intensity from him reminds me of that day on the beach…

3

A Naga’s Heat

“You didn’t tell me why you brought me here,” I say.

“Haven’t I?”

I lick my lips. “I’m not hurt enough to need tending. You could’ve easily left me—”

I never finish what I planned to say. I can’t use my mouth. Iskursu’s lips are on mine.

Surprised, I go rigid. His mouth is soft, softer than in my fantasies, but intense and eager. My hands rise to press into his chest because he’s pushing against me. Lamely, I freeze. In my dreams, I am suave; now I am not.

His mouth grows demanding with my failure to respond. His hand comes up to cup my neck, and he grazes my pulse with his claws.

I shiver.

His tail presses into my back as his kiss begins to roughen. His tail forces me to arch. He pins me against him, pressing me between tail and chest.

Heat rushes through me. Red hot lust. I clench, imagining him claiming me with his two large pricks. Pricks that have haunted my dreams with feverish need.

No ordinary male could compare to my naga, especially not after I behold his swollen desire for me. Once, I didn’t know males from other species were gifted with such deviant sexual appendages, but ever since I saw Iskursu that way, I knew he was the only one for me.

I’m a dragon female. A human-dragon female. I have only my experiences to know what that means, but I demand the best and know no human male compares to Iskursu.

But this kiss from him is so sudden and unexpected. After a lifetime of seeking it, his kiss leaves me stunned and a little… confused.

“Iskursu,” I say, pulling back. His mouth stays, swallowing his name. My palms push against his chest and meet his hard scales. “Iskursu!” I gasp. The tip of his tail wanders down my back until it is pressed between us—between my legs.

It pulls up my skirt and finds my naked sex. His tail flicks against my thighs.

I jerk, gasping even louder. “Iskursu!”

But then his tailtip is delving to the most private parts of me, searching for where I’m clenching.

And waters, am I clenching. I want him to find my core, to fill it. My body softens, the resistances dimming, and now I don’t even care if it’s his tail that fills me. Just as long as I am filled. Another shiver courses through me. It’s big, even the tip, as thick as the rest of him, but I know I can take it. Nothing will stop me from taking it.

His sharp naga teeth grip my lip. His slitted eyes meet mine.

And for a moment, he pauses, and we stare at each other.

“Iskursu,” I whimper. His teeth let me go. He pulls back, and I sag in his embrace, frustrated by his hesitation—by his tail staying so near—but there is relief too.

“What, little Haime?”

“Why are you kissing me? Why now?” I ask it a little too quickly. I need to know. I have a need to continue but…what if he ruts me and then leaves?

His eyes narrow. “I did not like seeing you with Eshka. He is a treacherousss male.”

I inhale. All the while the tip of his tail is stroking me between my thighs.

He continues, “He tries to take what is mine.” His tailtip finds my sex and pushes my legs open, just enough to give him room. “And now he is dead.” He presses his tip—so slightly—into me.

Iskursu’s words make me shudder. He pushes a tiny bit deeper.

“You were jealous?” I squeak.

He cocks his head. “Jealous?” His tail stops.

I shake my head, panting, wiggling my hips for him to continue. “A feeling,” I gasp. “A feeling that maddens you when you see someone else have what you desperately want.” My voice pitches higher, the words tumbling