Alan Troop: The Dragon DelaSangre

She shakes her head.

"It was a long time ago," I say. "A crueler time." I don't tell her that the remaining slaves suffered an equally dismal fate once their usefulness was over.

Maria says nothing more until we reach the veranda and walk to the ocean side of the house. There the night wind greets us, rushes around us, tugs at our clothes and plays with our hair. The sound of the ocean welcomes us too and she walks across the ten-foot-wide veranda to the waist-high, coral-stone parapet and stares out at the slow procession of waves relentlessly attacking the island's shore.

"They've come a long way," she says when I follow her and stand next to her. Maria moves closer so the side of her body touches the side of mine. "It feels like Miami's a thousand miles away."

I nod and put my arm around her, savor the warm touch of her, the gentle beauty of the night. It feels almost dreamlike-a warm quiet prelude to the excitement we both expect.

A sudden gust of wind buffets us, carrying with it that aroma, that same smell which had surprised me before. The shock of it upsets my equilibrium and I take a step back to catch my balance.

"Are you all right?" asks Maria, hugging me.

Nodding, I struggle to regain my composure. The scent's still only a diffused hint of what it could be, but this time it's strong enough to sear my nostrils and set my heart to racing again. All I can think is, I want more.

Changes inside my body warn me I'm on the verge of shifting shape. I breathe deep, glad to find the smell gone again, yet mournful at its absence. I will myself not to change, but nothing can quench the fire that's overtaken me, the lust that threatens to consume me. It takes all my control not to throw the girl to the veranda's oak-beamed deck and have her now.

She doesn't help by pressing herself against my hardness and murmuring, "I'm glad to see you too."

Feeling like an adolescent caught at school with an erection, I pull back, silently fighting against the forces raging within my body.

She giggles at my reticence, leans forward and kisses me on the mouth.

I return the kiss, all the while fighting for control of my runaway impulses. There's a sweetness to Maria. I like how she carries herself, her smile, the sway to her hips, the ready grin. I would hate to see fear take over her face.

Maria backs away from me, smiles, fidgets with the charm she wears on a thin gold chain around her neck.

I move close, take the gold charm from her fingers and examine it. "A four-leaf clover?" I ask as I turn the thin, delicate piece over, and admire the small, bright emerald inset in the center.

She nods. "My older brother, Jorge, gave it to me for my Quince-when I turned fifteen. We're very close."

Only a few centimeters remain between us. The slightest movement by either of us will bring our bodies in contact. Somehow, my holding the charm and with it, the chain around her neck, heightens the intimacy of the moment. I sway forward, brushing her lips with mine.

Maria sighs, pulls back so the charm slips from my hand. "I know what part of the house I want to see next," she says, her voice thick and husky with passion. She holds the gold clover between two fingers, runs it along the chain.

This girl is too full of life and joy to meet an early end, I think, as I lead her around the veranda to the two large, oak doors that open to my room. She deserves the chance to live her life, have lovers and babies, laughter and tears. I know Father will be disappointed, but no matter how he feels, I decide, I won't be the one to take that from her.

Maria sheds her clothes as we enter the room, dropping her jacket first, then her tube top, followed by her sneakers and socks and then her jeans-leaving a trail of clothing to the edge of my king-size bed. She turns toward me, naked except for a pair of yellow cotton bikini panties, cocks an eyebrow at my lack of nudity.

"Well?" she says.

"You're still wearing your panties," I say, turning from her, walking away from the open doors, unbuttoning my shirt, pulling it off as I wander around the room, turning on the bedside lamps, opening the windows so the ocean air can caress us as we caress each other.

When I turn toward her again, the panties are gone. I face her, breathe deep at the sight of her naked body, her firm full breasts, the gentle swell of her stomach above the dark tangle of hair between her legs.

Likewise she stands and examines me as I kick off my shoes and pull down my pants. I can smell her wetness from across the room and, erect to the point of near pain, I shed my underwear too.

She drops back on the bed and I join her, both of us touching, grabbing, kissing, until Maria maneuvers herself below me and guides me inside her. It takes all my control to hold back and wait for her. Usually I'm the one to stroke and kiss-to tease and delay until my partner's ready. But this time I'm not always sure who's in command. Gasping and thrusting, we ride each other, Maria leading as often as led, as wild as I've ever experienced.

Her orgasm, when it comes, catches me by surprise, and I hurry to join her. Afterward, both of us hug, tangled in each other's legs, the sea air blowing through the room, cooling our sweaty bodies.

Maria disengages, and looks around the room. "Was this place built by giants?" she asks.

"No." I grin at her question. She certainly has good reason to ask. Both the pair of double doors that open to the outside from my room and the second pair of double doors that open to the interior of the house are ten feet high by ten wide. The bedroom itself measures bigger than most people's living rooms. How can I explain to Maria that the large doorways, the oversize rooms, the wide veranda and wide deep steps have all been built to accommodate a far different creature than any human giant?

"Don Henri built it the way he wanted," I explain and kiss her nose. "Who knows what he had in mind?"

She reaches between my legs. "Well," she says, her voice turning deep and throaty, "some things, sometimes do get big around here."

I allow her to arouse me and, this time, I concentrate on her pleasure. Maria sighs as I move against her, smiles and writhes in tandem with me-follows my lead this time, the slow, languorous rhythm I've chosen to bring us to our eventual, inevitable release.

Her breathing, her heartbeat, her movements, give me signs as to what pleasures her most. When I duplicate a twist and thrust of my hips that I think will elicit a sigh and an enthusiastic response, Maria rewards me with both, as well as a satisfied chuckle.

If I were human, I think, I could fall in love with a woman like this one. I've never had a woman laugh in my arms before, not during sex, and I find it endearing. I pull her closer, cover her face with kisses, even as the tempo of our movements quicken and our chests heave with our loud ragged breaths. We peak together, laughing, gasping for air. Sweat drenched, our bodies collide one last time before we both collapse back onto the sheets.

Remaining inside her, holding her from the rear as we lie spooned together, I nuzzle the back of her neck and kiss it gently.

Maria sighs, pushes back against me. The sea breeze rushes through the open windows, courses over us and she mutters, "Delicious."

Moist from the proximity of the ocean, the wind smells of sea salt. Its humidity envelopes us, leaves our skins sticky with airborne salt.

I cup Maria's breasts with my hands and pull her close to me, listening as her breathing slows, feeling her body relax.

She sighs and shifts in my arms, my skin cold where it's no longer shielded by her heat. Another flurry of wind passes over us and I gasp at the foreign scent that invades the room.

"Everything all right?" Maria murmurs.