Happy Friday everyone. I’m just back from a glorious writing retreat at the Gladstone’s Library in Wales. I’m all inspired and ready to share another episode of Dragon Ascending. Last week Kresho’s revelation to Tenad Fallon leaves her wanting more. This week we discover that she’s not looking for information. As I mentioned, I am now attempting to post episodes at lengths that will be better suited for the flow of the story and enhance your reading pleasure. Some will be slightly shorter, some will be longer. I hope you find this switch-up helpful. I hope you’re enjoying Dragon Ascending, the sequel to Piloting Fury, as much as I’m enjoying sharing it with you. As always, I love it when you share my work with your reading friends, so feel free. In the meantime, enjoy!
For those of you who would like to read the complete novel, Piloting Fury, book one of the Sentient Ships series, follow the link to the first instalment.
Dragon Ascending Part 52: I Hate You. Why Would I Stay?
“I hate you. Why would I stay?”
Her chuckle was like honey and whiskey, as she worked the buttons. “I want you to fuck me, Ivanovic, not like me.” Her fingers were agile, making him think of other things they might do. When he didn’t respond, only stood staring at her, she held his gaze, letting the blouse slide off her shoulders. “What? You want me to beg? Is that your fantasy?”
“My fantasy,” he said, taking in her heavy nipples and then her pouting full lips as he crossed the distance between them, “My fantasy is to shove you out the nearest airlock and have done with you.”
“I can work with that fantasy,” she said moving to meet him halfway, “as long as I can fight back.”
Before she could come into his arms, he stepped back and jerked his head toward Camille. “I want her out of here.”
“What? Are you shy? She’s seen sex before, and violence, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I don’t care what she’s seen before, I’m not into exhibitionism, not with what I plan to do to you.”
“Camille,” she said, moving into his personal space, eyes locked on his. “Wait in the library.”
When the indentured was gone, he grabbed Tenad, spun her about, and forced her arm behind her back, forcing it up until joints popped, and then he walked her on tiptoes over to the table and shoved her face down on it. The moan she gave could have been pleasure, could have been pain, and frankly he didn’t give a fuck which. From his pocket, he took out an old Terran-styled pocketknife, flipped it open and in one quick move slit her trousers down the back. She cried out as he shoved them down, and the straining up onto her tiptoes was now more about arousal than it was the arm he still pressed high against her back. Her ass! The woman’s ass was covered in a lattice of scars, some old, some not so old. He ran the sharp edge of a nail down one of the wider ones and she whimpered, trying harder to raise her bottom. He raked the scar again and then slid a finger in between her legs.
“So that’s how it is.” His cock pressed hard and stiff against his trousers as he stroked the slick swell of her. She protested with a wriggle of her ass and a groan as he withdrew his fingers to remove his belt. Doubling it, he gave her a hard thwak on each ass cheek. And she cursed and bit her lip.
“The buckle,” she managed, sounding like she was already about to come. “Use the buckle.”
Yes, that was exactly how it was. And he knew for a fact as he hit her again, leaving buckle marks on each buttock, his turn was coming. Half of her arousal was the idea of returning the favor. That thought was almost more than he could handle. He kneed her thighs open, shoved down his trousers and gave a deep brutal thrust, no more foreplay than a couple of bloodied bruises across her ass. It was pain she felt, as he all but ripped her open, and fuck knew he wanted to. There were tears on her cheeks, eyes watering from being penetrated before she was ready to accommodate his girth, and yet she thrust back so hard that the slapping of flesh against flesh was its own form of punishment. He pulled out, long enough to put a couple more stinging lashes with the leather right across the new wounds, then he grabbed those round, wounded ass cheeks and fisted them apart as he shoved back in hard. This time she screamed as she came, but before he could finish, in his distraction, she pulled her hand free, and reached around behind him digging jagged bitten nails hard along his right ass cheek, and as he emptied himself in her, the warmth of his own blood dripped down onto his thigh.
Later, much later, they both straddled chairs turned back to front as her med bot worked on them. They were close enough that their foreheads touched, but not their lips, which was just as well, his were still swollen and the nanobots working to heal them made them tingle and sting. He’d learned early on, kissing Tenad Fallon was painful, and yet he’d kept coming back for more. But he’d given as good as he got. He smiled lazily at the thought, and then forced himself to think about something else. At the moment he was pretty sure a hard-on was something the rest of his battered body did not need.
“How’s your delicate little bottom?” She spoke as though she were only just barely awake in spite of the pain. She refused the offered painkillers.
“Better than yours, I bet.” He’d insisted his ass be treated, she’d insisted hers not be.
She squirmed against the chair until her eyes watered and she bit her lip. “You wanna feel how wet I am because of the souvenirs you left on my bottom?”
With more effort than brains he reached around the edge of the chair and gave her a stroke. “Goddamn woman, you’re crazy as fuck.”
“And you’re sane?” She was quick. Her hand darted around, grabbed his erection and began to stroke.
“Fallon, you’re killing me,” he grunted, shifting his hips just enough to aid her hand lazily fisting up and down his cock.
“Not today, Ivanovic. I need you to get me SNT1. Now are you going to tell me your plan or am I going to have to hurt you worse.”
He grabbed her hand and stilled the motion, but she didn’t let go, teasing the head with her thumb.
He took a deep, still painful, breath and told her what he had in mind. This time she motioned aside the med-bot, and in a quick motion far too fluid for someone so wounded, she shoved him back out of his chair and straddled him on the floor as the rib cracked again. “And you think I’m insane.” And then, together, they cracked a couple more ribs.