Heart of the Mountain

He slid a hand beneath the billowy fabric of her blouse, gripping it in his fist, the sound of the material ripping echoing through the cave as he tore it to ribbons. He took the two halves of her leather corset in his hands, straining to tear it open, the laces that secured it snapping. Isabelle giggled excitedly, shrugging her shoulders to help him along as he pulled her ruined top away, exposing more of her perfect skin. His hands slid down the curve of her back as he bundled her up in his arms, tugging her closer, Isabelle having to crane her neck to maintain their sordid kiss.

He rolled her over onto her back, Isabelle giggling as he threw her small frame around with ease, parting her thighs in invitation. Her pert breasts swayed with the motion, wobbling enticingly as they settled into their new position, Iden kneeling over her as his erection strained against the tight fabric of his pants.

"You're so aggressive, Iden," she chuckled. He was almost annoyed by how flippant she was, like the whole thing was a joke. "Do you treat all of the girls this way, or is it just me?"

He silenced her teasing with a kiss to her slender neck, pinching her skin between his teeth in a mock bite, feeling her spine rise off the bed as it arched towards him. She seemed to enjoy the rougher treatment, and so he continued, nibbling and kissing as he moved down towards her clavicle. He felt her fingers delve into his long hair, taking handfuls as his lips crept towards her bust.

Her flesh spilled between his fingers as he took one of her breasts in his hand, kneading it greedily, feeling the hardness of her erect nipple pressing into his palm. It was a perfect handful, his digits sinking up to the first joint in her fat, as soft and as malleable as freshly baked dough. She mewled contentedly as he squeezed, Iden delighting in the way that it yielded, only to spring back to its original shape when he relented.

Despite her lithe figure, her breasts were abundant, their heft giving them a teardrop shape that set his senses aflame. Her every subtle movement and tremor made them ripple like the calm surface of a lake that had been disturbed by a pebble, quivering as she rolled her hips reflexively. Isabelle clamped her thighs around him as he set upon the second, her grip surprisingly strong, the sensation of her shapely body writhing beneath his own encouraging him further.

He brought one of her hard nipples to his lips, sucking it into his mouth and playing his tongue across it, keeping up his mauling all the while. She had told him that he stood no chance of hurting her, and he believed it, he was shaping her bosom like it was wet clay. She had been flaunting her assets all day, putting them on display in her loose-fitting blouse. Now he finally had his hands on them, and he was taking full advantage, it was almost a form of retribution.

"You brute," she giggled, "taking advantage of a defenseless woman..."

Iden didn't want her laughing and cracking wise, he wanted her drenched in sweat, the only sounds leaving her lips the moans of carnal bliss. He decided to really put the moves on her, pinning her beneath his weight, pressing his erection between her legs as he gently chewed on her nipple. He could feel her warmth, her wetness, even through the barrier of his pants and her flowing gown. She was so ready for him, she was practically pulsing.

"Bite me a little harder," she muttered. He did as she asked, pinching her nipple between his lips and teeth, lashing it with his tongue. She pushed into him again, her spine rising from the silken sheets in a beautiful arch, Iden sliding a hand beneath her so that he might trace the deep dimple that ran down her back. Her skin was so impossibly smooth, like glass, or varnished wood. Could any mortal woman achieve this kind of perfection, or was it all a result of her magic?

His hand slid past her tattered blouse, sneaking below her gown and taking a handful of her rump, Isabelle loosing a delighted yelp as he dug his fingers into her springy muscle. Her rear was so soft and full that it rivaled her bust, but beneath the layer of cushiony fat was the brawn that she had boasted of, taut and firm in the most alluring of ways. She flexed as he kneaded, her thighs tightening around his waist like she was turning a thumbscrew. It reminded him of the female mercenaries that he had been fortunate enough to woo, strong and fierce. They had known what they wanted, and they hadn't been afraid to take it.

His lips left her nipple, wandering down her torso, pausing to plant a kiss by her navel. Her flat stomach was dimpled by two rows of subtle abdominal muscles, shifting beneath her skin as he passed them by. Even if he knew that it was just an illusion, her body was still that of a farm hand, toned and shaped by a lifetime of labor that had left her hard in all of the right places. His stubble seemed to tickle her, and she chuckled giddily again. Isabelle's hands were above her head now, her fingers clawing at the sheets as he lifted her off the makeshift bed, supporting her weight with a single arm beneath her pillowy rump. Her burnished thighs brushed his cheeks, the backs of her knees resting across his shoulders, her feet dangling behind her back as he held her almost upside-down.

"You're more generous than I had imagined," she said, her voice dripping with anticipation. "Quite the gentleman indeed..."

"Ladies first," he muttered, Isabelle chuckling lasciviously as he brought her closer. Her womanhood was just as idealized as the rest of her, her lips puffy and inviting, glistening flesh the color of a blushing cheek peeking out from between them. It was enough to set his mouth watering, and he watched as a solitary bead of her excitement escaped to roll down her cheek like a tear.

Iden rested his free hand on her belly as he dove in, parting her labia, and grazing her vulva with his tongue. He felt a tremor pass through her as he explored her folds and creases, like the petals of a rose coated in morning dew, her flavor driving him wild. She tasted just like a kiss, with a hint of copper, and not much else. There was the familiar musk of a woman, but also the flowery fragrance of perfumes and soaps, setting his head spinning. Was this what well-to-do women smelled like, or was this more of her magic? He even surprised himself with his enthusiasm, lapping at her slippery, fever-hot sex as she writhed in his grasp.

"Don't stop," she muttered, her eyes losing their focus as she lay back on the sheets. "Go a little slower though...that's right, with the flat of your tongue. Oh, Iden, you're a natural."

He mouthed and licked, the blend of his saliva and her syrupy juices making their contact wonderfully slippery, strands of it linking their lips when he pulled away. He planted sucking kisses on her inner thighs and on her smooth mound, watching her opening twitch at his every touch. She was so receptive, so sensitive, her muscled belly tensing beneath his palm.

She lurched as he found her clitoris, circling the bud of flesh with his tongue, pressing his lips around it and drawing it out from beneath its protective hood. He painted it slowly, doting on her, treating this part of her anatomy like it was made of glass in contrast to his usual roughness. He was pleased to hear a comely whine escape her lips, and she brought one of her hands to her mouth, biting down on her fist as he teased her with his slow and deliberate stroking. She was practically dripping now, her loins swollen and needy, he could feel the heat that she radiated on his lips.

He had to take a moment to collect himself, his heart was pounding in his chest, and his member was straining uncomfortably against the tight fabric of his leggings. He had been so reluctant, so wary of her, but now he could only ask himself why he had denied her advances for so long. Dragon or not, she was the most beautiful woman that he had ever laid eyes on. Her body was a playground of delicate flesh and sturdy muscle, her skin softer than satin, her scent and her taste bewitching him.

"What's the matter?" she asked, peering up at him as her green eyes reflected the glow of the campfire. "Not having second thoughts, I hope?"

He didn't reply. Instead, he let her fall to the pile of sheets below, the meat of her thighs and bust shaking with the impact. Her surprised expression quickly morphed into one of anticipation as he took her wide hips in his calloused hands, positioning her as he knelt between her parted legs. He took a moment to slide a hand up her thigh, massaging it, watching his fingertips sink into its velvety surface like melting butter.

"You don't beat around the bush, do you?" Isabelle purred as he took in the curves of her prone figure from beneath his curtain of black hair. "I must say, Iden, I find you so very...exciting when you're in this state of mind. You've become so gruff and assertive, no wonder the small-town girls that you like to court fall head over heels for you." Her expression turned sly, and he could have sworn that her green eyes took on a more fiery hue, if only for a second. "But I must warn you, I will not be so easy to satisfy. Hold nothing back, I want everything that you can give me, as hard and as vigorous as you can give it."

"I think you'll be pleasantly surprised," he replied. Isabelle merely smirked at him, reaching up to run a hand across his broad chest, biting her lower lip as she felt the pounding of his heart beneath her palm.

"You won't be needing those any longer," she said, pointing at his leggings. There was a burst of flame as they disintegrated into ashes, leaving him nude, the magical fire no longer a surprise to him. His member was finally freed from its prison, Isabelle's eyes wandering down to examine it, the way that her lips curled into a smile telling him that she approved of what she saw. Iden was appropriately endowed for his stature, his manhood thick and vascular, throbbing in the air as she reached out to brush it with her fingers.

He flinched, baring his teeth as she weighed it in her hand, her digits scarcely able to meet around his girth. This was another tool in his arsenal when it came to courtship, his partners were never disappointed once he got them into bed. Isabelle was one of few women who had probably seen bigger. For all he knew, a male dragon's manhood might be as long as his leg.

She guided him closer, pressing his glans between her lips, the warmth and wetness sending a shiver through his body. How he had longed for this during his weeks on the road, sleeping on the cold earth in a tent, the frigid air creeping into his sleeping bag as he tried to conjure memories of past encounters.

Isabelle had given him her invitation, and just as she had requested, he intended to hold nothing back. He gripped her hips and pushed forward, her eyes widening as she felt his manhood splay her open, her fingers digging into the sheets to either side of her as the head of his cock broke through.

He was greeted by a tunnel of sodden, twitching flesh that closed around him like an angry fist, her tightness making him curse under his breath. She had a small frame, and her passage was suitably narrow, her muscles massaging him in waves from beyond the limits of her silken walls. The exquisite folds and bumps of her insides were slick with a sheen of her slippery excitement, without which he doubted that their coupling would have been possible at all. Gods, she was as tight as a virgin. She was gripping him so fervently, as though her wringing muscles were trying to drag him deeper.

He inched a little further, and rather than pull away from him as some women did during the first moments of their lovemaking, he felt her thighs tighten around his waist. She crossed her legs behind his back, pulling him into her, her eyes flashing with a kind of fierce desire.

Her spine arched again as he bottomed out inside her, Isabelle able to take him to the hilt, her loins conforming to his every vein and contour like a velvet glove. He could feel every contraction, every subtle movement of her hips, every flex of her muscles. She could feel each throb of blood that pulsed through his member in turn, his organ jumping and pulsing inside of her, her eyelids fluttering with every beat of his heart.

"The warmth of a man," she mumbled, her eyes seeming to lose their focus as she stared drunkenly at the domed ceiling above them. "How I've missed this feeling of...fullness..."

Iden could scarcely stop himself from moving, and he began to rock his hips into her, his pace slow and heavy. Some women just lay there and took it, hardly participating at all, but Isabelle was refreshingly lively. She pushed back against him, rising to meet his thrusts, driving him harder and deeper. Her abdominal muscles moved beautifully beneath her skin as she twisted and gyrated, thrusting as though she was trying to scratch a maddening itch deep inside her, her breasts wobbling with the motion. He let one his hands roam up from its place on her hips, tracing the hourglass curve of her waist, stopping just beneath her chest.

They both began to breathe harder, a sheen of fresh sweat making their skin glisten in the firelight, their shared pleasure mounting along with their tempo. The impact of their bodies slamming together was wonderful, she could take him all the way to the base, so perfectly suited to him. The sensation of his member parting her deepest reaches had an intoxicating quality, flesh like damp satin gliding up and down his length, always in motion as it squeezed and shifted around him. He could feel every imperfection, every fold and crease of her depths, his nerves sparking like a smith's hammer hitting a hot iron. Her loins almost seemed to suck on him, drawing on his shaft like a hungry mouth when he tried to pull back, as if her very body couldn't stand the thought of them being apart.

His hands slid against her damp skin, beads of her sudor catching the light, sparkling to give the impression that her writhing form had been dusted with tiny diamonds. His own sweat poured from him, making his mop of hair damp. It wasn't just their coupling that was heating up, the campfire beside the makeshift bed seemed to sputter every time that he drove his manhood into her yielding walls, growing hotter as her ecstasy grew more intense. Iden was glad of the cool air now, it was the only thing stopping him from overheating.

"Harder," she snarled, that fiery hue returning to her green eyes. Her thighs tightened around his waist, squeezing him almost uncomfortably, muscles as hard as iron tensing beneath her supple layer of fat. He did his best to oblige, snarling as he planted a hand against the sheets beside her head, the impact making her jump and giggle. He changed his angle so that he might reach even deeper, his fingers digging into her hip as he put all of his strength into his thrusts.

They were rutting like beasts now, fucking in earnest, all pretense of gentle lovemaking forgotten. There was nothing cautious or exploratory about it, they were both experienced lovers, and they knew what they wanted.

"Harder, you brute," Isabelle hissed through gritted teeth. "Pull my hair."

His fingers delved into her auburn locks, and he took a cruel handful, tugging at her scalp as he pressed her deep into the sheets. He felt her grip him more tightly, her loins narrowing around his buried member, his eyes widening and his mouth opening in a silent gasp. She was so strong, so vigorous, he would never have imagined that such a dainty girl would like it this way.

"You really can take it," he panted, his disbelief making her giggle mischievously.

"Did you think me a liar?"

"No, but...this is amazing," he stammered. "You're amazing."

"I fear that we're well beyond flattery," she chuckled, reaching up a hand to caress his stubbly cheek. "Now stop playing nice, and treat me like you would one of your barmaids. I'm no Queen, I may have riches, but I hold no titles. I want to feel this...really feel it."

"As you command, my lady," he laughed. She gave him a playful punch to the bicep, smirking at him. He responded by leaning more of his weight into her, coming down like a sledgehammer, her entire body seeming to quake. He forced a lusty moan of pleasure from her lips, the sound driving him on, Isabelle starting to lose herself in the pleasure.

He pulled her hair, and she yelped in excitement, her fingernails clawing at his chest to leave red welts. Iden drew closer, pressing his body tight against hers, supporting his weight with a forearm. He was so much taller than her, her red cheeks brushing against his chest as they moved together, their combined sweat making everything wonderfully slippery. She seemed to enjoy his new proximity, wrapping her arms around him as best she could manage, her hands sliding up and down his back as she planted eager kisses on his neck. She was clawing at him like a little cat, but he enjoyed the sting of it, and her nails couldn't do him much harm.

She bit him gently, and he gave her red hair another tug, feeling her quiver beneath him. This was exactly how Iden wanted her. She was red-faced, drenched in sweat, mewling with every powerful thrust. Nothing excited him more than seeing a woman completely overcome, feeling her grip him with an almost desperate fervor, all hesitation and doubt replaced with animal lust.

There was a flare of pain as she raked her nails down his spine, the sudden sensation giving him pause for a moment. He considered saying something about it, but he didn't want to spoil the moment. Showing fragility in the heat of their rutting wouldn't do him any favors. He focused on the euphoria that was washing over him instead, his muscles burning with the exertion as he drove her into the silken bed.

"Kiss me," she demanded, reaching behind his head and pulling him closer with surprising strength. They locked lips, Iden not missing a beat as he kept up his pounding. Her tongue sought out his own, and they wrestled, the little moans and gasps that she let slip driving him wild. Her organ was so strong, her slick, smooth muscle roiling in his mouth. She tickled his palate, bulging his inner cheeks, her roving tongue coiling around his like a snake. Was it just his imagination, or did it somehow feel...longer? She was doing things that didn't seem possible, but it felt so good that he didn't question it.

Her embrace was so deep and unrestrained, her practiced strokes sending pleasant shivers down his spine, their wet smacking audible even over the sounds of their panting breath. She gripped his hair, her sharp nails pricking his scalp, her steely thighs dragging him into her to increase their pace. She seemed to want even more than he could give her, her thirst was unquenchable.

They broke off their lurid kiss, and he felt her lips on his neck again, her tongue raking his skin as she sampled his sweat. She buried her face in his shoulder, and he flinched as he felt her bite, her teeth pricking him. Again, her nails left burning trails across his back, and it hurt enough to jolt him out of his fugue.

"Iden," she moaned, his member flexing inside of her as he heard her sultry plea. "I want you on your back..."

He didn't even have time to protest. With her legs secured firmly around his waist, she grappled him like a wrestler, inhumanly strong for her diminutive stature. She threw him off-balance, rolling him over onto the sheets next to her, Isabelle keeping him locked inside her as she moved. Before he even knew what was happening, he was staring up at her, her red hair falling about her face as her chest rose and fell rapidly. Her breasts hung enticingly, seeming somehow fuller and heavier than they had been moments ago, swaying as they settled. She took his wrists in her tiny hands, pinning them to the bed with enough force that he couldn't lift them.