Rare Temptations: A Dragon Shifter Sapphic Romance, page 1
Rare Temptations
A Mythical Desires Novella
M.L. Eaden
Copyright © 2022 by M.L. Eaden
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
ISBNs provided by Chaotic Neutral Press LLC.
Editing By Kharma Kelley www.indieamwriting.com
Cover Art & Firebaugh Resort logo by M.L. Eaden
Character art by Clove – https://clvnhvs.carrd.co/
Content Warning:
on-page sex, teratophilia, accidental attraction/stalking.
Queer Stories based in myth, legend, and the uniquely mundane.
Contents
About Firebaugh Resort
1. A Curious Curiosity
2. Unsettled
3. Hot Mess
4. Dinner For Two
5. Continued Education
6. The Toy Shop
7. A Den Of Delights
8. A Summer's End
9. Rare Temptations
About Firebaugh Resort
Firebaugh Resort welcomes all magical species and their guests.
The resort offers world-class accommodations, shopping, and amenities that specialize in the needs of magical species and magic users. The grounds offer many of the activities to delight guests, including a wide variety of pools and sunning areas.
As for nightlife, there are several clubs, and dance floors which cater to our guests’ interests. From La Salsa-rita dance club to the rooftop gardens, to our exclusive kink club—The Playground. We’ll help you find the exact atmosphere to help you relax while you’re at the resort.
Our renowned spa offers accommodations for all sizes and types of species, with hours available for nocturnal guests.
In addition to the spa, dragons and their guests can seek the privacy and luxury surroundings of Dragon’s Cove. An aquatic entertainment park specifically for dragons.
Every ten years, Firebaugh Resort hosts DracoCon, the premiere dragon-only convention that brings dragons from all over the planet to socialize and play together. Our state-of-the-art territorial controls and guest way-finders make this convention a truly unique experience for return and first-time visitors to the resort.
Here at Firebaugh Resort, we take pride in creating a safe, inclusive environment for all our guests.
We look forward to your visit!
A Curious Curiosity
Francesca
“This application looks acceptable, but explain to me why you would like to transfer from The Garden Café to The Playground? You don’t have any other experiences that would be applicable here other than your waitstaff position,” Ms. Eilidh said.
This was my second summer working at Firebaugh Resort. The café had hired me back for the season, but I was restless with the routine of it. I liked the customers well enough, but simply put, I was bored. So I applied for a host role at The Playground. I’d heard rumors about a demi-goddess working at the resort, but I’d never met one until now. Ms. Eilidh, pronounced A-Lee, had golden hair elaborately braided in a quasi-crown, with a large fishbone braid draped over her shoulder. I wanted to undo it and put it back together just to count how many twists were in her hair.
“Ms. Morgan?”
Crap, not good. How had I become that distracted? So unlike me. “Yes, sorry. I was thinking.” I stopped just short of lying because I was thinking, but not about what other experiences could apply to the situation. There were several informational texts and articles I’d read over the years, but claiming they were mine would also be a lie. I wasn’t sure how to proceed.
“I understand the nature of the club.” The desire to convince Ms. Eilidh that I could be helpful while I gained more first-hand knowledge was paramount, as the subject had intrigued me for a while. “I’m well read on the subject, both fiction and non-fiction, detailing the nature of how and what might occur in such a setting.”
Ms. Eilidh smiled. “So you’re a tourist.”
“A what?” The term she used confused me. I certainly wasn’t a tourist. I worked at the resort after all.
“You’re interested in the topic, but you have no actual interest. For you, it would be research, observation, maybe even titillation, but you don’t have a passion or desire motivating you.”
Learning. Interesting comparison. Based on Ms. Eilidh’s response, I took a different tactic. “I am fluent in ten languages and enjoy learning. I have heard that BDSM is a language unto itself. One of the body and mind. Therefore, I’m interested in learning more about it.”
She tapped her painted ink-black nails on her desk. My application and resume were on the surface display. “Learning more, but not living it,” Ms. Eilidh said. I watched her eyes scan my documents again and my imagination conjured up what it might feel like to have her light tan skin under my hands, and those manicured nails scratch down my skin even as one of her pampered fingers danced across the interactive screen in front of her. I followed my line of imagination to her face, which seemed to glow in the light, but her dark brown eyes were assessing me as she caught me staring. “Did you see something you like?”
The flush of embarrassment crept up my neck and into my cheeks as I looked down at my favorite pair of high-tops, scuffed but serviceable. I didn’t look up, but I could see every detail in my mind. Eilidh’s sheer blouse was paired with a corset vest that framed and accentuated her large breasts presented in a way that begged to be caressed and licked. Wait, no. What was happening here?
“Did you do something to me?” I looked up then, my mortification replaced with annoyance. My voice was thin with it. I didn’t like whatever she did to make me feel like this. Not one bit.
“Ms. Morgan, I’m not sure what you mean? You were staring. I only asked a question.” She seemed confused rather than annoyed. It was a curious response to my accusation.
“But you did something to me to make me stare.”
Ms. Eilidh took a breath that visibly expanded her chest and let it out. I was staring again. She shook her head slowly. “Whatever’s happening to you, at this moment, I am not actively doing anything to cause it. While I have abilities that can influence a human like you’re suggesting, I’ve never had a physical effect on a dragon, in bipedal form, or otherwise. Unless you are part human?”
“No,” I answered, still confused at my sudden desire, but she smelled like the truth. So why did I feel attracted to her when no one ever seemed the least bit interesting to me? Uncle Greg withstanding, but that was more because he smelled familiar. I blamed that on Uncle Xavior.
Why was this different? Why now? I took a deep breath and smelled honey, wine, almonds, aloe, and vanilla. I took another, and there was a very distinct floral smell, something that tugged at my memories about something I read. Fertility. “You’re a fertility goddess.”
“Yes, partially, though my father was not.”
“Do you know if he was human or not? Could he possibly have been a shifter of some kind?” The scent grew more potent as my nose parsed it out. If her father was a shifter, it wasn’t one I was familiar with by smell.
She stood up abruptly, tense at first, then visibly relaxed. “No, I… I’m sorry, I don’t feel comfortable answering any more of your questions. I think we’ll conclude this interview. Good day, Ms. Morgan.”
I’d upset her, and that hurt me, not just emotionally, but almost physically. Asking about her parentage was not a polite thing to do. My curiosity had won out over my more rational approach. I didn’t want to hurt her, which was an odd response. Why did I even care?
I backed away from her desk, but I kept my eyes on her as I reached for the door. When I was on the other side, I closed it, then ran down the back hall that would carry me to a side exit, then outside. I needed fresh air and to spread my wings.
Unsettled
Eilidh
The resort had housing nearby for staff. Long-term employees had bungalows, while the seasonal workers had apartments. It wasn’t required to stay on the staff side of the resort, but it made it easier to commute to work. Plus, there were other benefits - like our own facilities, pools, laundry service, and cleaning services.
I had a bungalow that faced out toward the desert. The views were always spectacular no matter what time of day. It had the added benefit of the illusion of privacy. I was one of the least private people on the resort, but some days I craved solitude.
Tonight was no different. The interview with Francesca Morgan rattled me. I didn’t expect her to react as she had. Dragons were notoriously good at conversations. The goal of the interview was to ask thought-provoking questions. Other managers had told me Francesca was gifted at conversing with guests. There were stories of her recommending things, settling arguments, soothing fears. If I could have ascertained whether she did it to amuse herself or actually help, I might have considered her for the club’s staff.
I hadn’t expected the questions about my background and her very obvious staring and sniffing. With the resort catering to all beings magical and their partners, it was commonplace to adapt to situations or interactions that were cross-cultural and cross-species in nature. Ms. Morgan’s behavior was baffling. Dragons took in a lot of sensory information through their noses. Many shifters did. However, most dragons kept that information to themselves or make subtle inqu
They trained all staff on the species that worked or attended the resort. When any new species presented themselves, they immediately updated us about protocols and interactions, primarily for everyone’s safety and more so for the guests. The last thing you wanted to do was open a vampire’s room during the day, bother an ifrit while they were sleeping, or make loud noises around fae — unless the fae wanted loud noises, then that was a different story. The resort served its guests, and they adhered to a code of conduct while here. As a result, everybody was happy and offered a relaxing environment away from the human-centric world.
And tonight, I came home, made a drink, and put on my comfiest nightie. Then went to my private porch, lit a fire in my chiminea, then flopped on my outdoor loveseat with the romance novel I was in the middle of reading.
It was so comfortable, in fact, I must have dozed because sometime later, I woke up to something licking my face. With my eyes closed, I swiped at it, and whatever it was left only to return. It tickled a little, and that’s when I opened my eyes.
Ever wonder how your life might end? I’ve had a long one, but when you have a dragon staring you in the face in the middle of the night, it makes you wonder if you’ve reached the end of the road, so to speak. Not that dragons had actually eaten anyone in centuries that we knew of, but there was always a first time, maybe?
Adrenaline shot through me, and I had to remember my training. Dragons respond to fear, sudden movements, and have excellent eyesight in the dark. With that in mind, I tried to slow down my breathing so I could communicate.
“Hello. Are you aware that you’re in a private area?” Lee, seriously, that was wishy-washy, even for you.
The dragon’s head moved, and they blinked like they suddenly realized where they were. They took a step back, and I sat up and waited to see what they would do next. Though now that I didn’t have a face full of dragon teeth, I could admire the individual in front of me.
The red and black dragon, which was the approximate size of an African elephant, had beautiful golden-brown eyes and a crown of spiked protrusions. Their eyes reminded me of someone. “Ms. Morgan?”
She made a startled noise and leaped into the air, then was gone with a few beats of her wings. Something was clearly wrong, but I had no idea what. Whether it was brave or silly, I’d soon find out. I grabbed my empty glass, shut down my holo book, put out the fire with a flick of my wrist, and headed inside.
After throwing on a pair of jeans, a cotton tee, a hoodie, and tennis shoes, I left my bungalow to head to the apartment block where Francesca lived. I remembered her apartment number from the paperwork.
Once I reached her apartment, it occurred to me that maybe she would like to be left alone. But licking someone and flying off deserved an explanation, or so I thought. So, instead, I knocked.
I half expected her to not open the door, but when she did, she reached for my hand and pulled me inside. I stood there in my least flattering outfit and practically had to put my eyes back in my head when I realized Francesca was still nude.
Dragons were comfortable with nudity; I knew that. Maybe she assumed because of my job, it would be alright. And usually, that would be true, but fuck, she was gorgeous, slightly taller than me, and had natural hair with curls that cascaded around her head. I might be a goddess by birth, but she looked like one in the low light of her apartment. With her golden-brown eyes that could mesmerize you and beautiful brown skin that looked flawless, she took my breath away.
“Ms. Eilidh. I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Because my brain was scrambled and remembering why I’d come to her apartment was the last thing on my mind. “Oh, that. It’s okay. I was worried about you, though. Are you alright?”
“I don’t know.” She moved to her couch and curled up on it. Her response gave me cause for concern, so I followed and sat next to her.
We didn’t speak for a long time. I broke the silence when it looked like Francesca was too lost in her thoughts. “Is there someone I could contact to help you?”
“Oh, well, not really. I don’t know what’s happening to me, and it wouldn’t be a good idea to involve other dragons until I do.” The disconcerting nature of her tone and the frown on her face compelled me to offer what help I could.
“I’m familiar with some things regarding dragon senses. Could you describe it? I’m willing to help if I can.”
She looked at me, then turned her gaze to the window. “At first I thought it was another aging cycle. My first one was last year, and it’s rare, if not impossible, to have two so close together. I didn’t have this kind of response working and meeting people here last summer. Something about your smell makes me feel like I’m high on lust or a drug specifically tailored to make me desire someone. Does that make sense? It’s distracting and pleasant, and I find myself drawn to it because desire and lust are very unfamiliar sensations for me.” Her gaze found mine.
While I had clients describe our sessions as a kind of high, or causing a similar response to a drug—because pain and pleasure can do that—I’ve never caused that response indirectly that I knew of, until now. “Would it be better if I left?”
“Probably, but I don’t want you to.” She moved, and I watched like a mouse. It was an odd sensation. No one ever made me feel like I was small. I’m not a small woman. My eyelashes were the only thin part of me, and I wore a glamor to fix that. But I wasn’t wearing my tradecraft now. Nor was I dressed to meet clients or help with the club. I was me, unadorned and completely vulnerable to whatever the dragon in front of me did next.
Which was to kiss me.
Her fingers traced my face and caressed my cheeks as our lips pressed together. I bit off a moan in response to one of the most familiar but gentle touches I’d received from anyone. It felt as if she had memorized my contours before she’d ever touched me.
My delight threatened to outweigh the gravity of the moment. She had just admitted that I was affecting her. The back of my mind screamed, two things: Oh gods and goddesses, she’s absolutely ambrosia. Also, stop her and talk now.
She drew back for a breath and immediately gave me another quick kiss, humming her pleasure into my lips. I barely got her name out of my mouth before our lips crashed together again and her tongue sought mine. Teasing in the most tantalizing way, promising a talent that might be applied beyond kissing. It appeared that’s exactly what Francesca had in mind as she pulled at my hoodie and unzipped it. The soft fabric clung to my arms as I dragged myself away from her lips and panted out the most rational thing I could think to say. “Wait. We should talk.”
She blinked and licked her lips as her hands curled into the fabric of my jacket. “Aren’t you attracted to me?”
“I am. Very.” There should have been more to that, but I couldn’t think of why at that moment. Were we both affected now?
“Good,” Francesca said as her hands pushed the material off my arms while her lips never left mine. As she teased and caressed with her tongue and mouth, her hands fondled my breasts with feather light touches and gentle pinches to my nipples. A moan escaped my lips, and she pulled back a little to meet my gaze and give me a sultry smile. “Do you like that?”
My breasts were sensitive, so anything felt nice, but she moved her hands in a way that tightened everything from my chest to my clit. “Yes,” I breathed out as she continued her gentle onslaught. As my desire rose to meet hers, my willingness to be passive vanished. All I needed was her permission. “Can I touch you?”
“Of course, please.” The small plea, the wanton plea. Fuck, I didn’t know how many times I’ve heard that in my life while someone was under me, taking my paddle to their ass or kissing my boot, but that small surrender always motivated me.
