Fox and Dragon

Jet Mykles

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Drake Ange is a Krystanni, which, in the eyes of most people in the known galaxies, makes him a pirate. Krystanni are known for flouting regulations and stealing from the government. Of course this isn’t true of all Krystann...
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Drake Ange is a Krystanni, which, in the eyes of most people in the known galaxies, makes him a pirate. Krystanni are known for flouting regulations and stealing from the government. Of course this isn’t true of all Krystanni, but it’s hard to dispel the rumor.

Beth Holliday, callsign Fox, is therefore surprised when Drake applies to join the Emirate Elite. The Elite are the security force of the government that controls the space stations ruling access to the known planets. Why would a hotshot want to join the Elite?

Beth is a professional. She trains for the Elite. She takes on the Kyrstanni as one of her recruits. Much to her dismay, she finds that the Krystanni is not only a genius pilot, he’s also gorgeous. It doesn’t help any that he offers to fuck her. For hours. Of course, she turns him down but she can’t stop thinking about him.

Then accusations of smuggling force Drake, callsign Dragon, to flee -- and he steals her ship. It’s not just duty that sends her after him. No, it’s personal.

She has no idea just how personal until the Dragon corners the Fox in his lair. And he’s not letting her go until he gets what he’s wanted since that first offer.

  • Note:This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: BDSM.
Excerpt
“I want you,” he murmured, his breath as much a caress as his lips and tongue. “I wanted you then. I never stopped.”

Why? But the question never emerged. She had to clamp her lips tightly shut to keep from letting loose the moan that threatened when his tongue probed her navel. She breathed steadily, trying to ignore him. Her mind reeled. This can’t be happening! “Who paid you to catch me?”

He left her shorts pushed most of the way down, then traveled up her bare belly, lips caressing her belly and fingertips gently tracing her sides “Be a good girl and I’ll tell you later.”

“A ‘good girl’? Why you --” She gasped, body tensing when his hands slid into the sides of her top. She wasn’t wearing her civvy brassiere. Wasn’t necessary under an armored suit since the suit provided plenty of support. But her breasts were large enough to need the support without the suit.

He nuzzled her cleavage through her top as his thumbs caressed the sides of her breasts. The synthetic gray cotton heated up with his breath.

She bit back a moan, staring at the wall opposite rather than down at the flaming orange hair hovering over her chest. “Dragon, this is crazy.”

“Maybe.” One hand inside her shirt slipped forward to gather her breast. He turned his head and found her nipple through the fabric. Wasn’t difficult since the damn thing was diamond hard.

She jerked in response to the electric jolt the caress sent through her chest. “Dragon.”

He disregarded her words, continuing to torment her nipple with teeth and lips. The ribbed fabric between her skin and his mouth absorbed his saliva and heat.

She closed her eyes, clenched her hands into fists. He can’t do this. Oh, but he was!

He pulled back, letting his hands slide away from her. She had to bite back a moan of disappointment. When she dragged her eyes open, he was watching her with a knowing smirk. “I think you want me, Fox.”

“Fuck you.”

“Very soon, don’t worry.”

He stood, hands at the neck seal of his suit. Deftly he opened it, peeling apart the lapels as he turned away from her.

She was not happy with the pang of disappointment that surged through her. Her eyes dropped to his tight little ass, watching the muscled globes move as he walked toward the biggest panel in the wall opposite her.

He pushed the suit off his shoulders, and she nearly sighed in admiration of the broad male back that was revealed. Smooth skin and chiseled muscle. He let the top half of his suit dangle at his waist as he pressed the side of one of the wall plates.

The plate slid open to reveal a darkened compartment behind. Drake stepped aside, and a small, single-armed bot rolled out. He turned to face her, a small remote in hand, and bent to snatch up the stool.

This time she did gasp. A gleaming red dragon was blazoned down the center of his hairless chest. It was like no tattoo she’d ever seen. Crimson and black, the beast twined from one nipple to the other, then down his sternum, with a long tail curving around his navel.

He looked up at her gasp and smiled when he saw her reaction. “You like it?” He glanced at the remote and touched a button. The bot scuttled forward and came to a stop between her legs.

She stared at the tattoo, fascinated. The damn thing moved with him, like it was as alive as he was. It was unnerving. If she remembered her history correctly, that long, sinuous shape and bearded head were from the ancient Earth Asian dynasties, not from the European history.

She was so distracted by the tattoo and the beautiful male torso that she disregarded the bot entirely. “It’s stunning.”

“Thank you. I had it done a few years ago.”

“That must have taken days.”

He set the stool between the bot and the console. “Much longer than that.” He touched another button and the bot whirred.

Distracted by movement, Fox finally looked at the bot. The single jointed arm that extended from the top of the thing unfolded and extended toward her.

Beth frowned. “What is that?”

He didn’t answer, just hummed softly to himself and continued to position the bot. The seat to which she was bound actually had extensions to support her thighs rather than a true seat, so there was lots of room between her legs to position the thing very close to her.

Beth eyed the bot. The end of the arm was now about twenty centimeters from her crotch. It was cylindrical, cool, shiny metal, perhaps three centimeters around, and tapered into a blunt tip. It looked suspiciously like ... a dildo. “Oh, no!” she cried out, writhing despite the fact that she knew she wasn’t going anywhere.

The bastard laughed. He set the tiny remote on the console, then picked up something from the side farthest from her. “Don’t worry, Fox. You’ll like this.” He came at her with a big bowie knife.

Unreasoning panic surged, making her arch and try to break away. “What the hell are you doing with that?”

“Relax. I wouldn’t hurt you.” His free hand grabbed her shirt, and he brought the knife close. In two quick, efficient flicks of his wrist, he cut her shirt open. “Oh, very nice,” he purred, caressing a big, dark nipple with his pale fingers. He pinched.

She gasped. “You bastard.”

“Actually, I’m not, but I doubt I’d convince you of that right now,” he chuckled, trailing his fingers down her abdomen. He took hold of her shorts.

“Wait,” she said as the knife descended.

He didn’t. A few more flicks of his wrist, and her shorts fell in pieces to the seat beneath her.

A strangled scream escaped her when his fingers dipped down into the lips of her neatly trimmed pussy, his palm grazing her clit.

“Oh, Fox,” he chided, sliding a big finger easily inside her wet folds. “And you said you didn’t want me.”

“I don’t, you piece of shit.”

He clucked his tongue and shoved two fingers in hard.

Copyright © Jet Mykles

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