Her Dragon King (Her Dragon King Duet 2)

Sometimes it feels like he died.

But I’m not the only one manipulating our mate bond. He keeps his side dead to prevent me from getting too close, and I only show him what I want him to see.

“Sorry, Triple D. I know you’re…” I flood our mate bond with a shit ton of grade A lust before finishing with, “hungry.”

He grits his teeth but does a pretty good job of resisting. We get all the way through dinner, a sponge bath, and a doc about the rise and fall of the Byzantine empire without his dicks coming up for another huge hello.

“Okay, I guess it’s time for me to go,” I say, raising up on my elbow after I tell the wall screen to go blank. “Kiss goodnight?”

He stiffens, and his side of our mate bond goes even blanker. Like he’s doubling down on the numb.

That’s alright. I let him know that I’m feeling enough desire for both of us as I climb halfway on top of him to kiss him again.

I can feel both his dicks. One hard. One squirming, underneath my thigh. But he just lies there, refusing to respond to my kiss.

I pull away, wondering if I really have lost this battle. But then a single word slips into my mind, “Please.”

I grin. Then pull him out of his scales. But not for a handjob this time.

“Let me know if you enjoy this as much as Other You did,” I say before taking as much as I can of his main dick into my mouth.

He makes the same noise Other Damianos did the first time I gave him a blow job. A rough sound, somewhere between a screech and a guttural roar.

And I smile around his huge erection, as I begin stroking his jealous second dick, relishing the similarities between this Damianos and the one I lost.

This dragon’s body responds in the exact same way to a BJ. And I gotta say, the rattling of the chains as he tries to touch me is a nice touch.

Though there are some disappointing differences. I miss the feel of the other dragon king’s hands in the hair he’d braided and the awe-filled shouts of “Reverence, how you do honor me with your mouth!” And not going to lie, I’d felt some kind of powerful knowing how good I was making Other Damianos feel, thanks to our mate bond. He’d been the one receiving, but his sensations were my sensations, and damn, if they didn’t make both of us feel good.

I’d been able to tell when Other Damianos was getting close, by the way his pleasure began rippling a lot quicker over our mate bond. But since this Damianos was being so stingy with his feelings, I can only guess when it’s time to back off and give his second dick some attention while simply holding the other pulsing dick in my hand.

But it looks like I guessed right. I’m reminded of Other Damianos again when the second dick goes dangerously still—a sure sign even without the mate bond that it’s about to erupt. With a fond chuckle, I switch back to the cock he used to call his primary seeder.

I could have easily gone on like that all night, but just like Other Damianos, this one couldn’t take much more after the second switch.

“Please, I would like to spill inside of you.”

Yet another thing Other Damianos would have pleaded.

I happily grant this request, climbing Dragon Mountain, and taking us both on a ride.

The next night, he says please as soon as dinner is done.

And the night after that, he doesn’t even rattle the chains after I tell him to calm down. Just lies there and let me take command.

My beast has finally learned to heel.

And I wake up the morning after our third bout of hot prisoner sex feeling fantastic. Not just because of the amazing time I had on top of Mt. Damianos last night but also because of the renewed sense of hope.

He’s saying please on the regular now, and he’s stopped fighting me. That’s progress I can build on. Real proof that the version of him I fell in love with was still inside there.

“Maybe I can take you to finally meet him tonight,” I whisper to the not-so-little baby sleeping in the travel crib Uncle Clyde dug out of the pile of baby gifts we keep on hand for our kingdom’s expectant mothers.

But unlike a regular baby, he can already fit in the bottom part of a travel crib at less than two-weeks-old since he looks and is even heavier than a three-month-old.

Also when he sleeps, he lets out these weird snore snorts with little plumes of steam falling from his flared nostrils.

I stroke a hand over his golden wings. They’re so brilliant, they look like sleek metal, but they’re leathery to the touch with thick piping lining the outside of each wing. Bone or muscle? I wish I knew.