Dragon Fire

By: Wolf Specter

Wildfire Series - Book 1

“Do you want something to happen tonight?”

It’s a good question. I guess he’s probably checking to make sure I haven’t changed my mind since he asked me earlier if I’d like to give whatever this is the old college try. But the way he’s looking at me, I’m not sure I could say no even if I wanted to. He looks like he’s starving, and I’m the only thing that’s going to sate his hunger. Right now, I can practically feel how tense he is. I don’t know how Liam stays so damn controlled all the time, but he’s like a rubber band pulled all the way to its limit and ready to snap.

“Yeah,” I say, and it’s a struggle just to get that one word out.

I watch as he sets his beer down, then stands. He’s tall. I’ve noticed it before, but as he walks over to me, all calm and cool, he’s a little intimidating. Not in a bad way, though, because I can feel a rush of excitement pulse through me as I keep my focus on his.

His grey eyes have little flecks of color in them again. Almost like embers struggling to glow beneath a snuffed out firepit. I hardly even notice when he takes my beer and sets it aside, then reaches for my hand. He pulls me up like I don’t weigh anything at all.

I can feel the heat coming off of him, and I wonder if he’ll be hot to the touch again. I thought I imagined that last night, but standing here in front of him, almost chest to chest, I know I didn’t. He’s like my own personal radiator, and I want to touch him, but he’s touching me first.

His hands move to my arms, and I can feel his skin over my sweater. He rubs slow circles into my shoulders, easing the knot I didn’t know was there. And then he leans in, tilts his head down, and his lips are on mine again. He tastes a little like beer, but mostly it’s something else. Like the best parts of a pipe. The cherry wood as it burns, or the sweet taste of fresh tobacco. I can see myself getting addicted to that taste, and I try to stifle the whimper that wants to come out of me when his tongue parts my lips.

He’s firm and demanding, but every action is controlled. He possesses my mouth with his lips, tongue, and teeth, and it’s all I can do to catch up. When he doesn’t push it any further than a kiss, I realize he’s probably waiting for me to catch up, and I get a little more committed to kissing him back. I even bite his bottom lip, and the sexy, masculine growl I get in response goes straight to my groin.

I finally move my hands from where they hang uselessly by my sides, resting them on Liam’s arms. As I move up to his biceps, I’m surprised again at how toned he is. I can feel his muscles clenching under my touch, and they only get more pronounced when I move to his chest, feeling the edge of his pecs.

It’s probably a good thing that just touching him like this is really turning me on. Feeling how hard his body is, compared to the softness I’m used to touching. I like both, but right now I’m really, really into the things that make Liam a man.

Apparently he wants to test that theory and make sure I’m really into it, because I feel his hands move down my back before they grip my ass and tug me toward him so that our hips meet. This is the part of a makeout session where I’d probably move my hips a little, let her know what she’s doing to me. Liam’s the one who does it this time, and I can feel his dick against me; against mine.

It should be a trippy feeling, but instead it’s fucking amazing. I moan against his mouth and my hips buck against him. The more we kiss, the more I’m grinding against him like I’m trying to dry hump him. And maybe I am, because I’m starting to feel like the reservations I had before just don’t matter anymore. I’m starting to need something, and even though I don’t know what it is, I’m pretty sure Liam’s the only one who can give it to me.

Driven to touch him, to feel him in a way that’ll definitely convince me I’m not straight, I go for the buttons of his jeans, then unzip his fly. I can feel his dick pressing out against the opened seam, but he isn’t wearing boxers, so it isn’t as easy as it is with my own dick to just pull him out and start stroking.

I’m impatient, though, and I start rubbing him through the fabric of his briefs. He’s hot under my fingertips, like touching molten steel. But this time it doesn’t surprise me. It doesn’t hurt. In fact, it seems to calm the ache that’s eating its way through me, and as I get used to him, my own skin feels hotter than his.

He breaks the kiss and it gives me a chance to focus on him without any distractions. Except for the sound of his groan when I grip my fingers around the outline of his shaft. Or his lips and teeth on my skin as he moves down my neck.

Top Books