Page 8 of Dragon Heir

Untouchable.

I know that no matter my job title, we are friends, though. The dragon court, the entire royal guard, even the queen herself can never take that from us.

But I’m afraid they’ll try.

So if I can’t be what I want to be, at least I can be her friend. I have eighteen years of practice at being just that. I just have to keep playing my role. When it gets to be too much, when I can’t bear it and I think I’ll explode if my attraction to her can’t find release, I’ll do what I’ve always done. Find some poor substitute for her, make her think I’m not interested in her. I can’t be. I can’t afford to fall in love. I can’t afford to be sloppy. No mistakes.

As soon as we arrive, the dragons are going to try to tear us apart. If I’ve made even the slightest misstep, they’ll have reason to. They’ll say we’re too attached. They might fear the influence I could have over her, but I know she’ll need all the guidance and true friends around her she can get. So even though I’m not proud of what I’ve had to do to relieve my frustrations, I’m going to have to keep doing it. Because being away from Vynessa is out of the question.

The amphitheater style room is full when we enter, and hungry eyes fix on True as he stalks to the front of the classroom. It’s as if I’m completely invisible to the liaison women in here, even though they outnumber the men two to one. Every pair of eyes is fixed on True as he unloads his bag onto a table and starts writing on the chalkboard. Professor True, Introduction to the Dragon Court.

I find a chair in the back of the room and hook up the desk, then pull out a pen and parchment.

“Is it true that you’re rooming with Professor True?”

I turn to find a chick with blonde stick-straight hair leaning toward me. Her breasts are all but tumbling out of her top, and I force my gaze up to her expectant eyes. “Yes. I live with him.” I tap my pen on the desk. “Picks his nose.”

She giggles in a way where I can tell she doesn’t believe me.

Across the room, True gives me a warning glare, and I bare my teeth at him before focusing on the blonde.

“I’m Amber,” she says. “Where is your accent from?”

“Village of Nalo’Lan, ma’am.”

Her giggling erupts and spreads to the brunette beside her, and I know I’ll be getting a little relief, probably sooner rather than later.

“Alright, class. I’m not here to raise you, so if you’re talking when I’m lecturing, it means you don’t want to be here, and you should leave immediately.”

Lovely. Well at least I know True is as much of a dick at his job as he is in real life.

Chapter Five

Vynessa

When I yank open the front door of the library and cross through, I find myself in a spacious foyer with stone corridors leading from the left and right, a stone staircase visible past the doorways on each side.

My breath is coming out fast, and for some strange reason, I still can’t seem to convince my heart that I’m not in danger. The guy wasn’t chasing me. He’s actually a student here and he’s probably in the room straight ahead.

The light pours out the open doors of the library. Books line the walls in every direction, and I can feel them calling to my soul, but I’m just not ready.

A glance at my timepiece shows I have five minutes until class starts, and I look for a washroom sign, finding it pointing toward the doorway on my right. I head in, running up the stairway and into a long stone hall with a single door at the end. The hallway is dim, and the door isn’t labeled, but it’s the only one in here. I try the knob, and it turns easily.

The room is definitely not a washroom. I’m standing before an office with a thick wooden desk and bookshelves lining the walls. The word opulent comes to mind.

The much more important thing of note is that there are people in this office. Not only are there people in this office, but they’re fucking. A woman bends over the desk, her hands grasping the edges for dear life. She’s naked, legs spread, upper body pressed into the desk. The door has to be soundproof because she’s moaning so loud that the Scholars downstairs can probably hear her, and there’s a wet suction sound that seems to echo around the space.

The man standing behind the woman is fully dressed saved for his fly being a down. His lean body is clad in a pair of grey slacks and a lavender shirt with a few buttons undone at the collar. The color complements his tawny complexion, angular features and chiseled jawline covered in a few days’ worth of stubble. His black hair is combed back, leaving soft waves around his ears and at the back of his neck. It works. Oh boy, does it work. He pumps into the woman, his purple, veined cock impossibly long and glistening with her slick. I can feel my panties going wet as my core tingles.

The man’s head lifts, and a pair of startling purple eyes fix on me. He doesn’t miss a beat as he continues to fuck the woman, his gaze on me, his hands digging into her hips.

She bucks back against him while he pumps into her with wild abandon. His lips form a word, and I swear he’s mouthing my name, which is obviously a hallucination since I’ve never seen the guy in my life—or a very weird coincidence if his lady friend shares my name.

I gasp, stumbling back when I realize I’m just standing there watching. The man roars like a beast as he slams deep into the woman. She shrieks like she’s dying, her back bowing and her ass rising to receive the pounding he’s delivering. He pumps into her so fast his hips are a blur of motion, slapping her ass and making it ripple like an earthquake is going through her. She lets out another ear-piercing scream, then suddenly collapses in a boneless heap on the desk.

Damn, maybe she did die.

Death by orgasm.