The Dragons' Mermaid

Chapter 4

"Andrea — careful — y'need — air!" he stammered and took her head in his hands, gently pushing her away. "Just licking the tip is mighty fine enough, dear."

"Mm—mmmh," she protested, dug her fingers into his hips and rammed the swollen, hard rod all the way down her throat. Rick involuntarily arched upward, and her lips reached the root of his c**k. She sucked, greedier than before.

"Gooaaahhhdds," he moaned, and her neck throbbed and milked around the length of his manhood as he swelled the last few fractions of an inch that he could. And still she kept on swallowing, trying to suck him in deeper. The skin around his root was drawn tight. Heat wormed up from his balls through his crotch. It burst forward, pulsed through the length and squirted out, almost straight down into her belly. Her hands grabbed his nuts and kneaded them, squeezing every last drop from them that wasn't yet being drawn out by her forceful sucking.

"Andrea! Gods, Andrea!" The last couple of inches of his deflating rod slipped from her lips. She raised her eyes.

"Mmmh," she purred and licked her lips. "That was delicious."

"You — you — how?!" he gesticulated in confusion. "Andrea, did you even breathe? I feared you'd choke to death!"

She grinned and played with the soft flesh before her face.

"Could've gone on quite a bit longer, darling," she whispered. "I'm not even out of breath. So, you're going to repay my favor?"

"Out and about!"

The trader's cheerful voice easily drowned out the clatter of his wagon. He brought his horse to a standstill in front of the humble hut and climbed from the box.

"Rick! Andrea! Where are you? Where's my favorite couple?"

"Oh s**t oh s**t oh s**t! I told you! Not during the daytime!"

Rick grabbed for his clothes. Andrea struggled to throw her skirt over her sweat-covered nakedness. She frantically straightened the wrinkles and combed through her disheveled hair.

"I didn't think he'd show up so soon," she whispered. "It's alright, you're looking fine. Go out and greet him, I'll be right after you with the fishes."

Rick was halfway to the door when he stopped, turned and waved at her neck.

"Your pendant!" he hissed. "Take it off! Hide it! Y'know us peasants aren't allowed such jewelry! Darby sees it, we're in trouble! Sure he's a nice guy but he just can't keep his mouth shut!"

The trader glanced at Rick's catch and shook his head.

"Sorry, Rick, I'm not paying for that. They'd nail me to the nearest wall, and rightly so. You stored them until I got around, didn't you? Doesn't make them good. Best I can do is to take the one basket with the fresh ones."

Rick raised his hands in despair.

"Darby, d'you think I'm daft? I know it's not the best I can offer, but what am I to do? I can't catch enough just by sailing out the day before you come by, and I can't keep them in the net in the water either, them dumb beasts just start devourin' each other, and you're not paying either if they got bleedin' bite marks. Can't kipper them around here."

The trader threw the blanket back over the buckets. Flies buzzed away angrily. He scratched his head and shook it.

"Even if all were fresh, my journey lasts almost a week before I reach a place where I can try to sell fishes with a profit. By then, they're not food, but poison. It's not working out for me, Rick. Sorry. The town's market is about the only place you can go, and I know you can't go there."

Darby leaned in and put his arm around Rick's shoulder.

"Listen, I know you're a good lad and Malena's just been maligning you in the village. And the last catch you brought, Rick — if only they were fresh. So hear me out. I can get a word in for you, at the town up north. Might be able to get you a merchant's pass. You'll need to sail along the coast for three days, but you'll be able to sell your catch reasonably fresh. I've got me an office there. Troublesome waters out there, though. Do you dare?"

"So, do I dare?"

Rick turned to his wife. He leaned against the tallest post of his boat's small pier and watched the sunset.

"I don't want to leave you here, all alone. Two days to the town, and two days back, if the winds are kind. Three, maybe four, if not. Andrea, that's a whole week."

She wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled closer.

"Yes, Rick. We need the money and the goods. I don't like it either, but there's not much choice besides moving away, and I don't want to live in a filthy, smelly, noisy, crowded city. I want to be here, alone with you, in peace. If they pay as much as Darby said, you'd only have to do this once a month."

She pulled at the thin chain around her neck and dangled the pendant before her eyes.

"Maybe we should try and sell it. It must be worth a fortune."

Rick shook his head, laid his hand on it and gently tugged it back into the hem of Andrea's skirt.

"Don't even think about that. It's risky enough, you parading it out in the open. Keeping it in the hut is bad enough. Gems are for noble folk, y'know. If the wrong people ever found out, they'd just take it from us and throw us behind bars — or worse. We should bury it well away from our home, just to be safe." He watched her face and sighed. "All right, so I won't bury it. I know you love it so much, but promise me you'll keep it well hidden while I'm gone."

The sun rose over the horizon. Its warm rays pierced the many holes in the parchment over the tiny bedroom window and tickled the young woman awake. As Andrea turned over, her arm slipped across the empty space where her husband used to be. She sighed.

"Two more days. At least the weather's holding out."

Her fingers combed through her long rumpled hair. This day's duties were well planned in advance. She hated them nonetheless. Market day.

Andrea put on her best clothes and ran her fingers down her slender hips to smoothen out her skirt. Judging from the pinching the cloth gave her, she definitely had put on some girth around her hips. With a sigh, she bent down, grabbed the handles of her cart and leaned in.

Behind her, the two tall wheels creaked in a grating rhythm as she pulled the cart along the deserted dirt path to the village. When she left, the morning sun still sparkled in the dewdrops on the grass, but by the time she saw the small spire rise over the wheat-covered last hilltop, the midday heat had her drenched with sweat.

"Still with your little cart, I see," greeted the bulky, middle-aged man. Andrea raised her head in surprise, but kept on fanning with her straw hat to both dry the salty droplets on her skin and to keep the flies from the fishes on display. The hubbub from the market barely reached into the little alcove on the side street.

"Didn't hear you coming, Dom Blacksmith," she smiled. "How come a man built like his anvil can be so stealthy?"

"It's the missus, keeps me on my tiptoes," he replied and drew his hat. "I'll have two of them snappers, thank you."

Andrea sighed. "You'll get three for two. It's not like I'm going to sell out today." She looked around. Her assigned place was at the worst possible corner. As to why, Andrea knew all too well.

"How's Rick? You two doing alright?" the blacksmith asked.

"Could be worse," she answered. "Could be much better, though. We're selling some of our catch to the traveling traders these days, but they don't pay well. Can't blame them. By the time our fish arrive in the big city, they're almost overdue. Wouldn't see me buying them then, that's all I'm saying. Now here, if I could get a stall closer to the market, I might — well, fat chance of that."

"Malena?"

"You need to ask? Of course it's Malena's doing." Andrea cast an angry glance at the big house across the market. "Why can't she just let it go? She's turned me into a leper, Rob. Can barely sell a handful of fishes on a market day. Nobody dares to be seen here. Present company excluded. Sorry, Dom. It's just grating my nerves, is all."

She pinched the root of her nose and exhaled.

Dom scratched his stubbly beard. "You don't know half of it. She sees someone at your stall, she makes them pay their loans on time."

"Really? No wonder I'm stuck with all my display. Still, you came."

"Only smith in town, dear. She doesn't quite dare."

Andrea leaned in. "So why do you people keep on appointing her the mayor year after year? She's bossy, she's mean, she's crafty —"

The blacksmith chuckled humorlessly. "Because she's bossy, mean and crafty — Andrea, dear, she's the right tool for that job. You can't deny she's been good for the town."

Andrea's shoulders sagged. "But she's bad for me," she grumbled.

She raised her head. "Still, she doesn't dare messing with you? Oh Dom, then can't you get in a word for me with her? It's been going on for a year now, that's just childish to hold a grudge for so long."

"Whoa there, love! I'm not mad enough to step between the two of you, Andrea. The missus will have my head on the anvil if she ever finds out! Besides, wouldn't call Malena's anger a childish grudge, Andrea. You know it's much more to her."

"But it wasn't my fault! Should I have left him to drown?"

Andrea woke, shivering, in the softest bed she'd ever felt. She tried to turn, but she couldn't muster the strength.

"Easy now. All is well," said a shadow sitting by her side.

"Mistress Malena! I'm — where —"

The raven ran her fingers over Andrea's cheek. Her voice was soft, and an undertone of tears swung in it.

"My bed. You had us scared, child. For a day or two, we feared you'd pay too much of a price. Oh Andrea, I owe you so much —"

She turned and looked over her shoulder. "And here's a young man who wants to thank you, too."

Andrea looked up, and the maid's eyes met Rick's for the first time —

"Dom, you know I didn't steal him from her! You talked to him!"

The blacksmith shrugged. "Doesn't matter that everybody knows he left Malena. Thing is, he left her and went straight to you. Now if I were to leave the missus for another pretty bird — gods forbid — I'd keep on looking over my shoulder because one o' them days she be standing there with the sledgehammer to crush in both our unfaithful skulls!"

"Thanks, Dom. Didn't need that picture in my mind." Andrea shivered at the thought of hulking Bertha Blacksmith with a blood-spattered hammer in her hands.

Eight coppers.

The coins slipped through her fingers and disappeared without as much as a jingle into the velvety blackness. Andrea sighed and tied shut her tiny pouch. The three snappers for Dom were the only sale she'd made all day. High time to pack up, else nightfall would catch up with her out on the road.

That's nothing. That's even less than nothing. It'll barely pay for next week's bread.

She glanced at her display and took stock of the half-dozen of unsold fish, smiling wearily.

The fish — well, can't let them go to waste, with Rick gone. Her stomach growled already.

At least it'll be a dinner to remember.

She grabbed the cart's handles and started the hour-long journey back.