Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
"Please," she sobbed. "Please move, please, I can't—I need—"
"What do you need, little queen?" Korin's voice was strained, his body trembling with the effort of holding still. "Tell us."
"Pleasure me." The words tore from her throat. "Both of you. Pleasure me until I break."
They obeyed.
The first synchronized thrust drove the air from her lungs. They pulled back together—Korin's ridged cock dragging against her fluttering walls, Pyrran's smooth length sliding against her clenching passage—and then slammed home at the exact same moment.
Sol screamed.
Not in pain.
In devastation.
They set a brutal pace—perfect unison, perfect rhythm, perfect destruction. Every thrust drove her higher. Every withdrawal left her keening with loss. She was nothing but sensation, nothing but the place where fire met ice, nothing but the vessel for their claiming.
"Yes," Korin snarled against her neck, his teeth grazing her scales. "Take us. Take all of us."
"You belong to us now." Pyrran's voice was fracturing, losing its cold control. "Every hole. Every scale. Every thought. Ours."
Sol's claws raked through clouds that bled starlight. Her tail thrashed. Her wings beat uselessly as they pinned her between them and took and took and took.
The pleasure was building—a tsunami gathering force on the horizon, growing larger with every thrust. She could feel it coming. Could feel herself hurtling toward something enormous, terrifying, and inevitable.
"I'm going to—" she gasped. "I can't—it's too much—"
"Let go." Korin's thrusts grew savage, his cock swelling even larger inside her. "Come for your kings, little queen."
"Shatter for us." Pyrran slammed into her so deep she saw stars. "Let us feel you fall apart."
And then Sol came with a roar that cracked the dream-sky into a thousand glittering pieces.
Ice exploded from her jaws in torrents. Her inner walls clamped down on Korin's fire-hot cock with crushing force, milking him in desperate, rhythmic waves. Her other passage squeezed Pyrran's frost-cool length just as fiercely, pulling him deeper, demanding his release.
The orgasm didn't crest and fade.
It rolled.
Wave after wave of devastating pleasure crashed through her, each one triggered by their continued thrusting, each one more intense than the last. She was sobbing, roaring, clawing at the dream-sky as her body convulsed between them.
"Coming," Korin snarled, and the word was a warning and a promise. His cock pulsed once, twice—and then erupted.
Liquid fire flooded her core.
Sol screamed at the heat of it—not burning, but claiming, marking her from the inside with flames that seared into her very soul. She could feel his seed filling her, impossibly hot, impossibly much, painting her inner walls with molten gold.
Pyrran followed seconds later.
His silent roar vibrated through her spine as his cock jerked inside her tightest passage. Frost-cold seed spilled into her depths, filling her with silver light that spread through her veins like moonbeams through water, mixing with Korin's fire somewhere deep inside her.
The combined sensation—fire and ice, gold and silver, both of them filling her at once—triggered another orgasm.
And another.
And another.
Sol lost count.
Lost herself.
Lost everything except the feeling of being claimed, completed, conquered by her two dragon kings.
When it finally ended—when the last aftershock faded and the last pulse of their seed emptied into her—she floated in the darkness of the shattered dream-sky, pinned between her mates, their cocks still buried deep, their bodies still pressed against hers.
She was ruined.
She was remade.
She was theirs.
"Ours," Korin murmured against her scales, and she felt the word settle into her bones.
"Forever," Pyrran rumbled from behind her, and she felt it become truth.
When you wake, the ancient voice whispered, what was dreamed will become real.
Sol's dream-eyes fluttered closed.
And even within sleep, her dragon body purred with deep satisfaction.
Sol woke with a gasp and then noticed that she was no longer a dragon.
I’m human again.
The realization crashed through her like cold water. For the first time in a long time, her body felt wrong.
Too compact.
Too weak.
Like wearing clothes three sizes too small after knowing what it felt like to fill the sky.
When did I shift back?
She didn't remember choosing it. Didn't remember her bones shrinking, her scales retreating, her wings folding back into flesh that couldn't possibly contain them. The transformation must have happened while she slept—her exhausted body defaulting to the form it had worn for so many years.
But her dragon was still there.
She could feel it inside her now, coiled beneath her skin, waiting.
Patient.
A goddess curled inside a mortal shell.
Sol blinked, allowing her vision to adjust to dim golden light. She was no longer in the empty cavern, and she was definitely naked.
Where am I?
She took in the space and realized that she was lying on silk—cool and soft against her bare skin. The ceiling above her glittered with veins of gold running through black volcanic stone. Candles magically floated in the air around the room.
And even though it was a bedroom clearly carved within a mountain, treasure was still there. Gold coins spilling from chests. Ropes of pearls draped over ancient crowns. Gemstones the size of her fist scattered like carelessly tossed rocks.