Romance: Bought by the Dragon: BBW Dragon Shifter Romance Standalone (Paranormal Romance) (Studly Shifters Book 2) by Ashley Hunter
Authors: Ashley Hunter
Tags: Romance, Fantasy, Paranormal, Vampires, Ghosts, Demons & Devils, Angels, Werewolves & Shifters, Witches & Wizards
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never saw her again.” He blinked rapidly, still staring at nothing.
She wanted to hug him again. Seeing this magnificent man-dragon brought low by old pain, his shoulders slumping in spite of himself, made her heart hurt. She got up and went over to him, and stood there until he finally managed to straighten and look at her.
“Look,” she said hesitantly. “For what it’s worth, not all of us are like that. I’m not. I wouldn’t have done that to you. If you really want to find someone, you still can. There are women out there who are really nasty bitches, okay, I know that. My aunt’s one. But if I had met you...I mean, if I’d had the chance to go to school and then met you….”
A line appeared between his brows, but the depression seemed to lift a little as he listened.
She forced herself on, blushing. “I mean, if we had just, you know, met normally, and you had offered to get me the hell away from my aunt...I’d have gone with you. I would.”
His jaw dropped. Slowly, he reached out, his huge hand cupping the side of her face. “Jenna...you shouldn’t speak of things you don’t fully understand.”
She put her hand over his, wishing she could say or do something to make this better. She had been living with her own suffering for so long that she had forgotten that others suffered too. And he had, and he might even be suffering now.
“I may not fully understand dragons, but I know human women, and she was mean and unfair to you. You didn’t trick her because you have to live in secret. You aren’t a monster. And when she said no one could love you, she was just trying to pretend that what she was doing was normal and alright. But being a heartless bitch to a guy who loves you isn’t normal. And it’s not alright.”
His eyes flickered again, almost luminous...and suddenly she saw that gleam at the back of them that she had seen on that terrifying first night. Back when he had been pretending not to want her. “Jenna,” he murmured in a deeper voice that sounded almost tender.
“How did my father find a woman such as you, in spite of having no proper heart of his own to gauge a loving nature with? I do not understand it.” His hand slid down the side of her neck to her shoulder, and she shivered. She felt that, felt it fully, and realized, startled, that she wanted him to keep touching her.
He gazed down at her softly, and for a moment she thought he might kiss her. But then he shook himself out of it, let her go reluctantly, and forced himself to go tend the fire.
That night she dreamed of their time in his bedchamber again, of his hands on her body, of his gleaming eyes, of the feel of his manhood starting to push into her. His hands kept changing, flickering back and forth from pale and callused to black and scaly, the claws never breaking her skin but simply sliding delicately against her as he caressed her body.
He was trembling, and she realized as he hovered over her that this too was his first time. He could only mate with one woman, ever in his life. And even when he hated the whole affair, he had schooled and disciplined himself to seek to arouse and satisfy her needs as well as his own...for hours.
Aside from the emotions involved, she couldn’t have asked for better. It only made the situation that much more ironic: a missed opportunity, ruined by context and the machinations of their relatives.
In the dream she was no longer numb with terror; her memory of their conversations, of the gentle tug of desire she was starting to feel for him, of the tenderness that underlay it, all mixed with the dream-memories and changed everything. Suddenly she was panting and trembling, clutching him to her; begging him to go on. Taran, don’t be ashamed, her dream-self whispered. You can’t rape the willing...go on. Please, don’t stop.
But even as those moments played over and over in her head, going gradually from terrifying to delicious to excruciating in their incompleteness, a
She wanted to hug him again. Seeing this magnificent man-dragon brought low by old pain, his shoulders slumping in spite of himself, made her heart hurt. She got up and went over to him, and stood there until he finally managed to straighten and look at her.
“Look,” she said hesitantly. “For what it’s worth, not all of us are like that. I’m not. I wouldn’t have done that to you. If you really want to find someone, you still can. There are women out there who are really nasty bitches, okay, I know that. My aunt’s one. But if I had met you...I mean, if I’d had the chance to go to school and then met you….”
A line appeared between his brows, but the depression seemed to lift a little as he listened.
She forced herself on, blushing. “I mean, if we had just, you know, met normally, and you had offered to get me the hell away from my aunt...I’d have gone with you. I would.”
His jaw dropped. Slowly, he reached out, his huge hand cupping the side of her face. “Jenna...you shouldn’t speak of things you don’t fully understand.”
She put her hand over his, wishing she could say or do something to make this better. She had been living with her own suffering for so long that she had forgotten that others suffered too. And he had, and he might even be suffering now.
“I may not fully understand dragons, but I know human women, and she was mean and unfair to you. You didn’t trick her because you have to live in secret. You aren’t a monster. And when she said no one could love you, she was just trying to pretend that what she was doing was normal and alright. But being a heartless bitch to a guy who loves you isn’t normal. And it’s not alright.”
His eyes flickered again, almost luminous...and suddenly she saw that gleam at the back of them that she had seen on that terrifying first night. Back when he had been pretending not to want her. “Jenna,” he murmured in a deeper voice that sounded almost tender.
“How did my father find a woman such as you, in spite of having no proper heart of his own to gauge a loving nature with? I do not understand it.” His hand slid down the side of her neck to her shoulder, and she shivered. She felt that, felt it fully, and realized, startled, that she wanted him to keep touching her.
He gazed down at her softly, and for a moment she thought he might kiss her. But then he shook himself out of it, let her go reluctantly, and forced himself to go tend the fire.
That night she dreamed of their time in his bedchamber again, of his hands on her body, of his gleaming eyes, of the feel of his manhood starting to push into her. His hands kept changing, flickering back and forth from pale and callused to black and scaly, the claws never breaking her skin but simply sliding delicately against her as he caressed her body.
He was trembling, and she realized as he hovered over her that this too was his first time. He could only mate with one woman, ever in his life. And even when he hated the whole affair, he had schooled and disciplined himself to seek to arouse and satisfy her needs as well as his own...for hours.
Aside from the emotions involved, she couldn’t have asked for better. It only made the situation that much more ironic: a missed opportunity, ruined by context and the machinations of their relatives.
In the dream she was no longer numb with terror; her memory of their conversations, of the gentle tug of desire she was starting to feel for him, of the tenderness that underlay it, all mixed with the dream-memories and changed everything. Suddenly she was panting and trembling, clutching him to her; begging him to go on. Taran, don’t be ashamed, her dream-self whispered. You can’t rape the willing...go on. Please, don’t stop.
But even as those moments played over and over in her head, going gradually from terrifying to delicious to excruciating in their incompleteness, a
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