The Dragon From Paris: A Sexy Dragon Romance Page 10

  And Mrs. Callahan wouldn’t get a chance to kill Clarissa, which she was going to say was the most important part, from a purely subjective standpoint.

  When she dared to look again, everything was calm once more, save for the smell of smoke. The sprinklers would probably activate soon, and it seemed unnecessary to still be lingering by the time that happened.

  Everything after that seemed to pass in a blur, as Clarissa closed the distance between them and scrambled up onto Abel’s back, and he launched himself out the window again as she clung tightly to his neck. It was only a brief flight after that before they landed in front of his house, and Clarissa scrambled down just as quickly so he could transform.

  By the time he looked human once again, Clarissa already had his front door open and was stepping inside. She left the door open, and she heard it close a moment later as Abel followed her in.

  With a drawn-out sigh, so heavy that her shoulders moved with it, she sagged back against the wall and let her head gently thump back against it.

  “That didn’t go as planned,” she observed eventually, and she couldn’t help but to smile weakly when Abel snorted out a sardonic laugh.

  “Not quite,” he agreed, using one hand to take hold of her chin and turn her head, inspecting her carefully.

  “She didn’t actually touch me,” Clarissa pointed out, but she let him fuss regardless. She had just been chased through an office building by a snake woman. She sort of appreciated his fussing, if she was being honest with herself. He didn’t bother to reply, and he stepped back a pace once he was satisfied that she was safe and unharmed.

  For a moment, they were quiet, watching each other in silence. For a beat, and then another, and then almost as one they surged forwards, their mouths clashing together with force that seemed to rattle their teeth as they clicked together. They were clumsy at first, too hurried by half, but they slowed after a moment and fell into a proper rhythm, tongues sliding together.

  Their hands began to wander, plucking at buttons and tugging at hemlines, until Abel’s shirt had been freed from his pants and unbuttoned, hanging open so Clarissa could run her hands over his abs. Abel was still in the process of unbuttoning her blouse, and soon enough he pushed it off her shoulders before he reached behind her to unclip her bra. It fell to the floor a moment later, and she sighed against his mouth as he caressed her breasts, kneading the supple flesh with both hands. She stood up on her toes to deepen the kiss, and his hands slid down her sides to curl around her hips, urging her even closer, though it seemed impossible for there to be any less space between them.

  Though their movements weren’t particularly fast, there was a certain urgency to them all the while. The kiss finally broke and Clarissa’s hands fell to her skirt, so she could shove it down her thighs, letting it fall to the floor to pool around her feet. She kicked her shoes off finally, and they clattered away in different directions, and at last Clarissa and Abel had to step away from each other as Clarissa tugged her tights and her panties off and Abel began fussing clumsily with the fly of his pants until he had them opened.

  He was naked by the time Clarissa had her tights pulled halfway down her legs, and her movements slowed as she stared at him, taking in every detail. She had seen him naked before -- —multiple times -- but it was a sight she was pretty sure she was never actually going to grow accustomed to, and she hoped she never did.

  When at last she tossed her tights away, balled up into a rumpled beige heap, Abel wasted no time in grabbing her around the middle and pulling her flush against him once again, his neck bending as he leaned down to kiss her once more. She could feel his steadily growing erection pressing against her, and he sucked in a breath as she curled a hand around it and stroked it, once, very slowly.

  They broke away once again, just enough that there was space to breathe between them. Nose to nose, they watched each other for a moment, before he curled both hands around the backs of her legs and hoisted her up, off the floor. Her back met the wall and his lips and tongue and teeth began trailing along the side of her throat, and she tipped her head back and to the side to let him have his way more freely.

  She dragged her hands along his sides, nails scratching along the way, until she could clutch at the back of his neck and shoulders, as if she was already getting ready to hold on for dear life. She knew what was coming, after all, and though she welcomed it she knew it was best to brace for it before she got swept away.

  His lips found hers once again, teeth clicking together with their haste before they found a better angle. It was short-lived, though, before Clarissa curled one hand in his hair just long enough to give it a sharp tug, letting him know that it was time to get on with it. Without words, but abundantly clear all the same.

  He spared a moment for a final kiss, brief and playful, followed by a breath of laughter as she tried biting his lower lip in retaliation, only to miss by a hair’s breadth as he withdrew.

  His hold on her tightened after that, and she swore she stopped breathing for a moment as she waited for him to move.

  He hitched her up slightly higher in his hold, and she sighed out an unsteady breath as she felt his erection brush past the lips of her labia. There was remarkably little fumbling as he lined himself up with her entrance, but she didn’t have long to be impressed by that before he pressed his hips forward, the head of his cock slipping between the lips of her sex and past her entrance.

  Clarissa moaned, her head falling back against the wall as she released the low, wanton sound, almost desperate as it escaped it, as if she had been waiting for her entire life for just that

  moment.

  Abel continued pressing forward, slow but steady, until Clarissa’s back was arched like a bow and every inch of his cock was sheathed within her. Only then did he pause, and only for the briefest moment. Clarissa had time to draw in a ragged breath before he pulled out, until only the head of his cock remained sheathed, and then he thrust back in, slow and steady once again.

  Clarissa whined, a low and desperate note, and her legs tightened around him as she tried to urge him onwards, trying to encourage him to pick up the pace, as if he had somehow misconstrued some part of her behavior as reluctance, despite every atom of her being practically begging him for more.

  But she knew he hadn’t misunderstood anything; she could tell that he knew she wanted it, and he was holding back because of that, seeing how long she could hold out until she begged for more.

  Her train of thought abruptly derailed as he slowly withdrew once again, just as slowly pushing back in again. She wasn’t sure how he managed to keep such a steady rhythm when she felt like she was unraveling with every thrust. She never even had time to find the words to ask him to go faster, to give her more, as each thrust seemed to break her thoughts into pieces, scattering her words into the abyss so all she could manage was a series of increasingly desperate whimpers as she clutched at him like a drowning victim might clutch at a lifesaver.

  “P-pl—ooh.” Again, her words fled before she could ask for what she wanted, and Abel smirked as he drew out once more. She wanted to be annoyed, but as he thrust back in and her back arched, the urge fled, replaced only by the desperate need for him to keep going and to go faster.

  Her next whine as Abel maintained that pace despite the sweat beginning to bead along his forehead was more like a keen, and it wasn’t until she was nearly sobbing with each measured,

  purposeful thrust that she managed to force out, “M—oooh, mo-more, please, faster.”

  As if she had uttered some sort of magic spell, Abel paused for just a second as he adjusted his hold on her and shifted his stance, before he did exactly as she asked. Clarissa could do little more than clutch at him desperately, her nails digging crescent marks into his skin as he picked up the pace, pounding into her as if he wanted to force a hole through the wall using her as a

  battering ram, and she wouldn’t even mind if it happened so long as he kept going.

 
; She wasn’t going to last long at the pace he picked up and she knew it, and just based on the way his expression screwed up in concentration, she had to assume that he wasn’t going to last much longer than she was, and she felt a tiny thrill of pleasure at that thought, at the idea that she got him just as worked up as he got her.

  She didn’t have long to dwell on that thought, though, before she hit the peak and plunged over the ledge of climax, every muscle tensing, taut as a bowstring as she came, her nails raking white lines into his skin. Her mouth dropped open on a noise that could only be describe as a scream and her head thumped back against the wall with enough force that it probably should have hurt, though in the moment she hardly even noticed.

  Abel kept thrusting, his grip on her tightening to the point that Clarissa knew she would have bruises on the backs of her legs by the time they were done. His rhythm faltered more and more with each thrust as she clenched around him. Clarissa had hardly even begun to loosen up again by the time he came, thrusting shallowly as he did.

  Gradually he slowed to a halt, his softening cock slipping free of her damp heat as he did, and finally there was stillness as the rest of the world slowly reasserted itself around them.

  It took a long moment before he set her back on her feet, and as she let her weight sag back against the wall, he pressed his palms flat to it on either side of her head, letting it hold him up. It was quiet, save for the sounds of their heaving breath and their pulses racing in their ears.

  It was Clarissa who eventually broke the silence with a quiet, slightly helpless laugh. “Well,” she sighed after a moment, “that was a day.”

  Abel snorted and shook his head, letting his forehead thump down against her shoulder. “Only a day?” he wondered dryly, slightly muffled. “Feels more like it’s been two or three.”

  “You’re telling me,” she groused good-naturedly. “You didn’t have twenty-some feet of…whatever she was—naga? Whatever. You didn’t have twenty-some feet of snake person playing a game of hardcore hide and seek with you.”

  “Fair enough,” he agreed mildly, scooping her off her feet. She didn’t bother to question it, and his goal became clear soon enough as he carried her over to the couch and dropped down on it, sprawling out on it with her draped over his chest.

  They lapsed into comfortable silence after that. She could feel his breathing beginning to even out as his chest moved beneath her cheek, and once his breathing leveled out into sleep, she cast a glance towards his face. For a moment, she simply watched him, eyes tracing over the details of his features.

  Soon enough, her eyelids began to get heavier, drifting shut slowly. She drifted into an easy sleep after that, still curled up against Abel’s chest, pressed between his side and the back of the couch. They were both still naked, but he seemed to radiate heat like a furnace, and she knew she wouldn’t get cold.

  It was a surprisingly calm ending to what had been a hectic and terrifying day. She wasn’t going to complain.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Clarissa’s phone rang only twice before Lacy picked up with a cheerful, “Clarissa!” It always felt good to be greeted so cheerfully. As if it had been eighteen years since they last spoke, rather than just a few days. “How goes all that deep thinking about life, the universe, and everything?”

  “You mean my deep thinking about a guy?” Clarissa wondered wryly.

  “That’s what I said,” Lacy scoffed, and Clarissa could just imagine her rolling her eyes and waving the topic away with a flippant gesture.

  “It’s going well,” Clarissa assured her easily, pacing across the hotel room as she spoke, her strides easy and unhurried. “I like him a lot,” she added, her voice dropping to a low mumble.

  Lacy cooed out a wondering, “Oooh,” like she was a teenage girl begging for gossip all over again, though she laughed it off after a second. “Yeah, I kind of figured,” she replied. “I mean, you sounded pretty intent on him last time, and it’s not really like you to get that worked up over something that’s not really important to you.” There was a pause, and then finally Lacy’s need for gossip ran out. “So, what’s his name?”

  “His name is Abel,” Clarissa replied, keeping her tone carefully, pleasantly even as she said it, waiting for Lacy to realize the implications behind those words.

  “Abel—wait a second. Abel, as in the rich as fuck guy you’re there to interview?” Lacy demanded, her voice getting louder as she asked.

  “Possibly,” Clarissa returned, mustering up the most innocent voice she could possibly muster. Like she had been caught skipping class by the teacher whose class she was supposed to be attending. “That’s a very distinct possibility.”

  “You bagged a billionaire?” Lacy practically shrieked, and Clarissa had to flinch away from the phone because of her volume.

  “Maybe,” she replied, in the same caught-red-handed-in-the-cookie-jar tone of voice. She let it drop a second later, knowing that she was fooling absolutely no one, and she added more candidly, “It’s probably more accurate to say that a billionaire bagged me. He was the one who asked me out. And my professional obligation extended no further than that interview, so it wasn’t like there was any sort of conflict of interest for me to keep in mind, so of course I said yes. And things sort of went from there.”

  “You’ve fucked a billionaire?” Lacy asked, sounding faintly awestruck and slightly jealous.

  “Multiple times,” Clarissa answered, because she couldn’t quite restrain the urge to gloat about it just a little bit.

  Lacy groaned, releasing a rush of static across the line. “Why are you always the lucky one?” she asked, whining like a grade school kid.

  “I’m never the lucky one,” Clarissa protested, sounding dutifully scandalized as she said it. “So, I’d say I was in for some good luck.” Especially with all the rest of the baggage that came with dating that specific billionaire, but she kept that detail to herself.

  And really, she generally didn’t feel as if she was particularly lucky. She wasn’t even sure what “lucky” felt like, but she didn’t think she had run into much more good fortune than the average person.

  Lacy snorted indelicately. “Uh huh, yeah,” she scoffed good-naturedly. “Ms. I Got Sent To Paris On My Dream Job, you’re so terribly unlucky.”

  Alright, so maybe Clarissa wasn’t the unlucky schlub she occasionally thought of herself as

  being. She supposed she had done alright for herself in the grand scheme of things. She could afford to live on her own in a city in a job that she had actually gone to college for, so she

  supposed she didn’t have any room to call herself unlucky after all.

  Evidently Lacy couldn’t pretend to be annoyed for too long, as she laughed a moment later. “At least don’t forget the little people like me once you’re rich,” she sighed, feigning wistfulness.

  “As if you’d ever let me,” Clarissa snorted, rolling her eyes even though Lacy wasn’t actually there to see it.

  “True enough,” Lacy agreed easily, her tone pleasant. “I’ll have you by the ear if you try,” she added cheerfully. “But I think we’ll need to get into that later,” she carried on, her tone suddenly distracted. “Customer walked in and I’m expected to be responsible and deal with him.”

  “The horror,” Clarissa deadpanned in return. “I’ll talk to you later, Lace.”

  “Bye,” Lacy offered in a cheerful sing-song.

  The line went dead, and Clarissa pulled her phone away from her ear.

  She contemplated her phone for a few seconds, wondering at a second call. She probably should have called days ago, as it was. She had just been putting it off for a bit. It was just that so much had happened so quickly, and even if it hadn’t slipped her mind, she wasn’t sure she would have been able to talk about it without giving away too much.

  When she brought up her contact list, her phone screen hadn’t even had time to go dark again. She scrolled through until she found the number she was looking for,
tapped on it, and lifted the phone back to her ear again. She listened to it ring for long enough that she was nearly ready to hang up and try again later, when she heard it click as someone answered.

  “Clarissa?”

  “Hey, Mom,” she greeted easily in reply.

  “Clare-Bear!” her mom cheered exuberantly in return, even though she was probably completely aware that Clarissa was rolling her eyes at the pet name. “I figured you would call days ago!” The words should have been scolding, but her mom still sounded too cheerful for it to really have any effect.

  “Things have been a little hectic here,” Clarissa murmured, sitting down on the edge of the bed before she tipped over backwards to sprawl out on her back, switching the phone to her other hand afterwards.

  “I can imagine,” her mom agreed, followed by a jubilant, “You’ll need to tell me all about everything that’s happened.”

  And there was the main issue. Clarissa wasn’t very good at lying to her mom, even just lying by omission. So rather than attempt to get good at it right then and there, instead she pulled out the one detail that she knew would distract her mother from anything and everything else.