Dragon's Lair

Dragon’s Lair

By

Seraphina Donavan

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Dragon’s Lair

Copyright© 2011 Seraphina Donavan

ISBN:
 
978-1-60088-707-9

Cover Artist:
 
PJ Edwards

Editor:
 
Devin Govaere

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

Cobblestone Press, LLC

www.cobblestone-press.com

Dedication

To my wonderful friend, DD, who always told me I could.

Chapter One

A fine sheen of perspiration glistened on her skin as Lilly Montague walked the cobbled streets of the French Quarter. Though it wasn’t quite five in the afternoon, the gas lights lining the streets flickered beneath their glass shields. The city was exotic to her, and the wail of a saxophone in the distance made it even more surreal. Something had happened to her since she’d come to the city. It was as if all her senses had come alive and she was more aware of everything. The sights and smells of the city, both divine and repulsive, assailed her, the heat was like a living thing as it caressed her skin, and the light sheen of sweat was not the only dampness that resulted.

As she moved, she felt the fabric of her sundress shifting over her skin. In deference to the heat, she had forgone underwear, and she could feel the dew of her arousal slick on her thighs. She needed to get back to her tiny apartment and the new toy that was waiting for her. She had never used sex toys before, but she’d gone to a shop on Bourbon Street earlier that day and purchased a large vibrator with small attachments that would stimulate both her clit and the delicate nerve endings of her anus. It would be a new experience for her, but that was the whole purpose of her new venue. Her life had collapsed around her a decade earlier when her father had died and her mother had suffered a catastrophic brain injury in a car accident. A week from her eighteenth birthday, she’d become a full time caregiver to her mother, and her dreams of college, dating and parties had simply vanished.

Turning down a side street, she walked for more than a block before realizing that she was on the wrong street. She’d called earlier that day about the waitressing gig at a restaurant on St. Ann Street. Glancing at her watch, she realized she was one minute away from being late for her interview. They would never give her a job. Lilly muttered a curse and turned around, only to find herself face to face with a broad-shouldered bouncer. His face was shielded by an elaborate beard and a pair of mirrored sunglasses. His dark blond hair was pulled back into a pony tail, and a tattoo peeked from beneath the tight T-shirt he wore. He didn’t smile, but he turned his head toward her.

“Are you lost, darlin’?”

The accent was pure Cajun, and Lilly responded immediately. Her nipples puckered inside the lace of her bra, and the dampness between her thighs intensified. “I seem to have misplaced my job,” she said in a mild attempt at humor.

His lips quirked. “If it’s work you’re lookin’ for,
cher
, we’ve got plenty inside.”

She was tempted—so tempted. She didn’t even know his name, but she could clearly picture them together. The vision of his strong arms around her, her legs wrapped around his lean hips, and his cock driving into her was powerful. Sanity intruded, along with the idea that she didn’t want this gorgeous man to see her chubby thighs and cellulite.

“I should probably just find the restaurant I was looking for. This place looks a little high-end for me.”

“Never that,” he said, again with a teasing smile. “Go inside. Talk to Remy. We need a waitress.”

Glancing down at her dress, Lilly was painfully aware that her pebbled nipples were plainly visible through the thin cotton. “I’m not really dressed for it,” she protested, but even then she wanted to do as he said. She wanted to follow his suggestions.

“Darlin’, with a body like yours, it’s a damn shame you’re dressed at all. Go in. Have a drink. Talk to Remy. Take a chance,” he said, and opened the door.

She was like Alice, and he was a bottle tagged with “drink me”. Helpless to resist, she moved past him through the open door, feeling the hard ridge of his cock nudge her hip. She wanted to stop there, to press herself against him, but she didn’t. Moving forward, she stepped into the dark interior of the club and immediately felt the pounding beat of the music. It pulsed through her, centering between her thighs, increasing the dull ache of need. A couple stood against the wall, pressed so tightly to one another that not even air could exist between them. The man had his hand buried between the woman’s thighs, which were wrapped around him. They kissed, their tongues sliding sensually from their parted lips, glistening in the dim light.

Breathless, she skirted the couple and entered the main lounge of the club. It was dark, and there were no tables, but around the room were couches and extra wide chaises that would play host to small groups or couples. Blue-tinted lights gave the room an ethereal glow, and shimmering curtains separated the seating areas. They framed each area, but they couldn’t be for privacy as they were entirely sheer. In the far corner, a man sat alone. He was dark and beautiful with coal black hair and pale eyes. Even in the darkness, Lilly felt his gaze. It pulled her like a magnet.

Remy Mercier watched the brunette with a hunger that startled him. He had known the minute Philippe spotted her. The two of them had been together so long their thoughts were linked easily. Communicating was like breathing to them. Excitement burned in him along with a need like nothing else he’d ever felt. He surveyed her, from the top of her dark head to the tips of her delicate toes.

Her lush curves veered more to Rubenesque than simply voluptuous. As she walked, there was a slight bounce to her breasts and a sway to her hips that captivated him. The cotton dress clung to her curves as she moved. He wanted to rip the dress from her, to bare her body and explore every lush curve with his mouth and hands. With little more than a thought, he called her to him. He wanted her. She was the one. He sent a burst of thoughts to Philippe and then focused his attention on her as she moved toward him.

He repositioned himself on the couch, crossing his legs to conceal the raging hard-on that had hit him the minute she walked in. He looked like a normal man, albeit an exceptionally good-looking one, but the size of his cock was usually a dead giveaway he wasn’t entirely normal. It was the same for Philippe. Of course, it wasn’t simply the size of their cocks that set them apart. It was their stamina. As Acadian Dragons, they were among the most highly sexed of their kind. It made taking human lovers a very complicated proposition. Having a human lover was not necessary, as they had one another, but occasionally, Remy thought, a little variety was a very nice touch. The brunette would provide that admirably.

When she was near enough, he spoke. “Hello,
cher,
Philippe says you are looking for work.” Remy watched her as she looked around at the expensive décor. He could see the fear in her and knew that she thought coming inside had been a mistake.

“I’m Lilly. I was looking for a waitressing job, but this doesn’t look like a restaurant.”

He smiled, showing the faintest hint of even white teeth behind full lips. “No,
ma petit belle
, it is not a restaurant. Dragon’s Lair is a private club for people with very special interests.”

Looking at the chaises and the shimmering curtains, with a vision of the couple in the hallway clear in her mind, Lilly began to comprehend just what kind of club it was. “I’ve made a terrible mistake. I shouldn’t be here.”

“Perhaps, but perhaps not. Why don’t I tell you a little more about what would be required of you before you decide?”

She could not work in a sex club. Even as she thought it, she was mentally calculating how much remained in her meager checking account. The move had all but tapped her out. It had been an impulsive decision, but she couldn’t regret it. And she couldn’t afford to turn her nose up at a job, any job, given how scarce they were. “Alright.”

“First, you will not have sexual relations with patrons on the premises. Who and what you do on your own time is entirely up to you. Secondly, no one will touch you. No one will harm you in any way here. If you are uncomfortable with anyone for any reason, you need only to tell me or Philippe. Thirdly, when you wait on the patrons or their guests, you will be serving them drinks or bringing them their own personal toy chests, which are stored here on the premises, and that is all. If they ask for more than that, you will tell me. The final point about Dragon’s Lair is that we provide complete anonymity. Everyone who is a member is given a number, and they have cash-only accounts. When they reach their limit, either Philippe or I will discuss it with them. You may accept tips, but you will be paid well enough that you will not even have to worry about it.”

It sounded too good to be true. “How well paid exactly?” His answering chuckle told her that he liked her response. Part of her wished that he liked more than that, but something about him frightened her.

“We will start out at two hundred-fifty dollars a night. If you last the week, it will then be three hundred. We are only open Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. You are more than welcome to work elsewhere during your days off.”

“I’ll take the job,” she said, breathless. She couldn’t afford to pass up that kind of money. In spite of that, panic set in. What would she see? What sorts of games would be played before her very eyes.

Remy stood. “I will show you around.”

He took her to the bar and showed her the selection of drinks. The bartender would handle putting everything together; she only had to name the drinks. He explained that most people preferred bottles of wine or champagne, along with the occasional shots. He showed her the discreetly placed numbers on the alcoves that would allow her to identify what number went where. Afterward, he led her down a hallway to a locked door. The door had a small keypad, and he pressed the pass code into it before the door whooshed open.