More Medieval Dragon Shifters

By CS Sax

They’re primitive and possessive and they love with all the passion in their big dragon hearts.
Four dragon-shifting warriors rule their medieval kingdoms with might and fire and steel. They are searching for their fated mates, and when they find them, they will do anything to claim them, protect them, love them.
Their ladies need little protecting. Their bravery matches their warriors’. They seek adventure and belonging and caring. Some wield swords. Others conquer their enemies with kindness. All will ride their dragons and find their destinies.

Two Heads Are Better Than One (The Green Two-Headed Dragon) – In her fantasies, Guinevere cavorts with two-headed dragons. In reality, she must choose between two handsome twin brothers. Or must she?

Dragon’s Captive (The Blue Dragon) – Every solstice, the villagers sacrifice an untouched maiden to their guardian dragon. This solstice, Rhoslyn is chosen. The villagers don’t realize she isn’t untouched OR an unwilling sacrifice. She plans to claim her dragon-shifting captor. Permanently.

Dragons And Destinies (The Gray Dragon) – Celestria travels to King’s Keep, hoping to experience a destined love equal to the one her parents enjoyed. She encounters bandits, a bloody battle and one strong yet silent dragon-shifting warrior. His skills at courtly love are lacking. His rough touch enflames her passions.

Escape into a medieval fantasy world with these three lunch-hour-length romances.

• Language: English
• Publisher: CS Sax
• Release date: Oct 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781987971385

CS Sax

C.S. Sax is the not-so-secret identity of a USA Today Bestselling Author. Under this identity, she writes fun and steamy short stories.Every story is a romance with the expected romance ending and can be read on their own. These lunch-hour-length reads are bundled by their shared worlds into collections

Book preview

Chapter One

Mothers sometimes pointed to Guinevere as an example of what a lady should be. When she was in the company of others, she attempted to be graceful, soft spoken, careful with her actions and words.

In private, especially in her dreams, her true adventurous, passionate nature emerged. Every night for years, she’d dreamed of a two-headed dragon.

He waited for her when she closed her eyes.

The ground shook as he landed. His huge wings flapped. The artificial wind that action created wafted against her skin.

Moonlight reflected off his green scales and his eyes gleamed with starlight. Her dragon was large and fierce, a primitive creature with primitive appetites, and all of Guinevere’s most basic instincts screamed to run.

She stood still. There was no reason to fear the beast. He belonged to her, would never harm her.

The dragon lumbered in her direction. His twin sets of nostrils flared. His long tail swept away trees and rocks along his route.

Guinevere remained motionless. Droplets of sweat ran down her spine.

Her dragon was a product of her sleeping mind. No creature as large as he was could move as he did, in complete silence. His talons dug soundlessly into stone. His mouths opened as if to roar.

She heard nothing, not even the echo of her own ragged breathing.

The dragon’s right head pushed forward aggressively, and Guinevere obligingly placed her hand on his scarred cheek. His scales were soft and warm, at odds with her first expectations. Smoke from his nostrils curled around her arm, scented the air.

Not to be ignored, the dragon’s left head gently nudged her other arm, demanding equal attention. She stroked and caressed him.

The dragon leaned into her touch.

She explored the contours of his two faces, savoring the feel of him against her skin, relishing the connection that flowed between them. When she was with him, she belonged, she fit. They were a cohesive unit.

Scales turned to skin under her palms as her one beast shifted into two men. The warriors were tall and broad shouldered with short auburn hair and piercing green eyes, and Guinevere knew them as well as she could know another soul.

The dragon was a dream. The men were based on very real beings.

The two brothers had competed for her hand. They were identical in face and form, except for the jagged scar on Lord Recht’s tanned cheek.

But their characters were as unlike as two men could be.

Recht was the silent, serious warrior. Linke played the charming courtier.

It had been a difficult task to choose her future husband but she had, and on the morrow, Guinevere would marry Lord Recht, the eldest brother by mere seconds.

This final evening, however, both would be her fantasy lovers.

Recht was the first to reach for her. He captured her mouth, his grimly set lips pressing against hers. His arms encircled her bare waist, his touch sure and commanding.

She gasped and he plundered her mouth, stroking into her with his tongue, claiming the terrain as his. He tasted of smoke and aroused man and she inhaled him. Her pussy grew wet. Her nipples tightened.

His body, also bare, was as responsive. His cock hardened, pushing against her. She quivered with excitement, leaned back.

Her shoulders collided with an equally firm chest. Linke kissed her shoulder, his hot mouth branding her skin. He cupped her large breasts with his rough hands, lifting them, weighing them, molding her to his palms and she trembled with excitement.

The warrior caught her nipples between his fingers, playfully pinching that sensitive flesh, elongating it. Unable to suppress her pleasure, she shamelessly moaned into Recht’s mouth, that sound muted by the dream.

Recht released her lips, kissed down her neck, mouthing over her collarbone. Linke offered his brother one of her breasts. The warrior sucked that part of her into his mouth. As he feasted upon her, Linke worked her curves with his fingers.

The dual assault stripped her control. She called their names, first Recht’s, then Linke’s.

Her cry was swallowed up by the nothingness. The desire within her burned brighter, warming her all over. She curved her fingers over Recht’s skull, pulled him to her chest, and she arched into Linke’s muscular form.

His huge cock slid into the crevice between her ass cheeks. Recht’s cock pressed between her thighs. She was caged between the two men. That aroused her. Greatly.

And it seemed to excite them also. Their bodies vibrated against hers, their rumbles of appreciation unheard yet felt.

Recht, always the leader in their encounters, drew her sharply to him. That abrupt movement knocked them all off balance and they fell.

Guinevere landed on Recht’s hard physique. Linke landed on her, his weight thrilling her.

Recht was undeterred. He continued his sensual assault on her breasts, licking and inhaling them until they throbbed, until she glowed with pleasure. That wasn’t enough for her dominant male. He lowered one of his hands, glided his fingers between her legs, stroked her pussy, drawing more wetness from her core.

It felt good but she needed more from him, from both of them. She rubbed against Recht’s hand, seeking to give herself what she craved, not knowing what that was.

Warm oil dripped between her ass cheeks and she twitched. That was it. That was what she yearned for—more hands, more lips, another cock.

Linke nuzzled against her as he spread the lubricant over her tight, puckered hole, coating her with slickness. She wiggled while he teased her rim, circling it, teasing her.

Anticipation meshed with her desire. She knew what he would do, what he had done in previous encounters, and she pushed back against his hand, silently asking for that fullness, that physical bond.

Linke rewarded her brazenness. He pushed one of his thick fingers inside her. Her body protested the invasion, and she writhed on top of Recht.

The scarred warrior held her face between his large hands, forcing Guinevere to stare into his blazing green eyes. He was with her. She read that in his gaze. He had her, would never let anything or anyone harm her.

She relaxed and her body loosened, allowing Linke’s exploration. He withdrew his finger, plunged it back inside her, withdrew his finger, plunged it back inside her, owning that forbidden terrain with sure, confident strokes.

The warrior knew what he was doing, and he knew her, her body, her pleasure spots. She embraced his rhythm, lifting her ass into his touch.

Linke added one more finger, stretching her open.

Recht kissed her, reassuring her once again. She was safe. He was with her. She was loved. The two brothers often operated as one, in synch with each other.

That was part of the magic of these dreams, a magic Guinevere greatly appreciated. Their actions, when combined, gave her increased bliss.

Linke raised her ass, positioning her for what would come next. He would fill her with his large cock. And she would love it.

Her anticipation was edged with a tinge of regret. She wanted the warrior’s cock in her ass, needed him. Yet she also missed the pressure of Recht’s body against hers.

As though reading her thoughts, the scarred warrior bent his knee until she straddled his leg. His thigh pressed against her pussy.

That was what she needed. She moved on him, pleasuring herself wantonly, telling him with soundless words how good he felt.

Linke worked his way slowly, surely into her well-lubricated asshole. His fingers had not fully prepared her for his cockhead. He was so very large. She gripped tightly him, a pinch of pain accompanying his invasion.

Another man’s cock was in her ass. Guilt stabbed Guinevere. She would wed Recht on the morrow and she was being ravished in her dreams by his twin brother.

Her gaze met her husband-to-be’s.

His scarred face shone with euphoria. Her warrior’s cock bobbed against her thigh.

He wanted this as much as she did.

Her misgivings dissipated, leaving only wanting.

He held her as his brother rocked into her body. Linke filled her with gentle strokes and she panted, her passions building, building, building.

As her desire escalated, their pace quickened. Linke took her harder, faster. His hips slapped against her ass cheeks.

Every thrust forward ground her pussy into Recht’s leg. The friction heated her from the inside out. Sweat dripped along her spine. Bands of emotion wrapped around her chest, squeezing, making it harder to breathe, to hold onto her restraint.

She clutched at Recht’s arms. I need…

Although her words made no sound, her warrior understood what she needed. He lowered his head, drew her right nipple between his lips and sucked hard.

She shattered into a million pieces, silently screaming. Her pussy clenched around nothing. Bliss swept over her, pulling her into the abyss.

As she fell into that decadent darkness, her men joined her, reaching satisfaction together.

Recht thrust vigorously against her, moving in a frenzy of feeling. His face contorted, the power in his countenance awe-inspiring. Essence arced from his tip, splattered over her stomach.

Linke drove forward, filling her ass with his huge cock. He bit her shoulder, that pain adding to Guinevere’s pleasure. Warmth rushed over her as he pulsed with release.

The three of them thrashed against each other. The acuteness of the ecstasy gradually leveled. Their movements eased in intensity.

Linke collapsed on top of Guinevere, flattening her into Recht’s body.

She smiled against the male’s form, welcoming his brother’s weight. It felt right, destined, meant to be.

Guinevere wished it was reality and not merely a dream.

Chapter Two

The next day, Recht sat at the main table in Zwillings’ great hall. Lady Guinevere was seated to his left, was protectively positioned between himself and Linke.

She was theirs. Finally.

Satisfaction filled him. After months of tongue-twisting courting, they had been wed. No other man could touch her, win her, claim her.

She belonged to them.

Silenced by the strength of his emotions, wishing to share his happiness with her, to treat her as she should be treated, he wordlessly offered their new bride a piece of warm apple tart.

Thank you, my lord husband. She smiled shyly at him as she bit into the delicacy.

His gaze lowered to her mouth. Her lips were full and lush. Her brown curls were topped with a garland of flowers. Her hazel eyes were trusting.

She was all a warrior could want in a woman.

He met Linke’s gaze. We are two very lucky warriors. He pushed that thought into the warrior’s mind.

Recht only half listened to the effusive reply. After a lifetime of sharing a mental connection with Linke, his verbose other self, the being he referred to as brother, he had learned to ignore the frivolous comments.

Guinevere reached for her goblet. Candlelight reflected off the plain band of gold encircling her finger, and Recht’s good humor vanished, replaced by new concerns.

She wasn’t completely theirs. Not yet. She didn’t wear their mate ring.

Linke had convinced him to wait before fully bonding with Guinevere. She should knowingly accept all three of them, the warrior had argued.

Arguing was Linke’s forte. Recht was a man of action, not words. He yearned to claim Guinevere in all the ways she could be claimed.

But he wanted their mate to be happy most of all.

She turned to Linke. The two chattered. Laughter bubbled from her lips, the light, joyous sound enthralling Recht.

He would wait to claim her, would give her time to adjust to them. They had waited this long, and a day or two more wouldn’t slay them.

The other maidens stare with envy at the Zwillings' bride. Linke nodded meaningfully at Sophia.

The girl watched them with a petulant expression on her golden visage.

Long accustomed to being the only young noblewoman in the area, Sophia had taken the news of their upcoming nuptials hard.

She considered them to be hers and had told Recht that.

He had blundered through the confrontation, explaining they saw her as a sister and nothing more. She was a child and she wasn’t their mate, didn’t interest them at all in that way.

The girl hadn’t spoken to him since that moment.

Recht shrugged. There was nothing else he could do or say.

She would get over her temper tantrum. Sophia always did. Her fuming face didn’t worry him.

Her brother’s leer, however, annoyed the hell out of him. Lord Neid had always hungered for everything his neighbors had. His envy of their lands, their bond, the respect their people showed them had been open and irritating.

His coveting now extended to their beautiful bride. The man’s gaze was fixed on Guinevere’s bountiful chest.

Recht growled and pulled his chair protectively closer to their mate.

Linke did the same. While doing that, he brushed one of his arms against her breast.

Guinevere jerked, drawing away from Linke. Her cheeks flushed a becoming pink.

Recht smelled her arousal, the scent tantalizing him. His body hardened.

Calm yourself, brother. Linke teased him through their link.

Calm myself? Recht snorted. I have waited years for this night.

Linke had taken her ass many fortnights ago, claiming that part of her during the nocturnal encounters Guinevere believed to be dreams. He had found release inside their mate. Again and again.

Reluctant to sire an heir out of wedlock, Recht had refused to claim her pussy until they were wed. The delay had been excruciating. His balls ached. His control was strained.

"I suspect it is you they stare at, Lord Linke. Guinevere deflected the compliment she was given. It is rumored that once one brother weds, the next follows closely."

Is that rumor true, Lord Linke? Sophia brazenly approached the head table. Her nearly non-existent hips swayed. The bodice of her gown was cut so low, the fabric barely covered the slight curves her chest had recently sprouted.

Recht’s