Drawn by Dragonblood Page 6

  Lower lip between my teeth, I tugged my shorts down, tucking them beneath my drawn-up balls. One hand cupping my sack, the other smearing my own pre-cum down my length, I fought off echoing groans from those rising past Jon’s lips.

  “Don’t want to come in your mouth,” he said, pulling her head up. He claimed her mouth, causing them both to moan.

  Dakota’s hand took over where her mouth had left off, the flex of her arm feeding my imagination while moving my own with the same rhythm. Down and up, swirl over the crown, thumb across the slit, and back down to the root once more.

  Mouth still fused to hers, Jon pushed Dakota onto her back, settling between her thighs. His hand moved between them, causing Dakota to gasp against his lips.

  “Your pussy is soaked for me.” He hummed his appreciation. “But I want your ass, baby.”

  “Yes.” Dakota half-groaned the word, arching her back. “Hurry.”

  Jon sat on his haunches abruptly and yanked her leggings off. He held himself in hand, but the back of the couch hindered the erotic sight of whatever he did to Dakota. “So wet … get me ready, baby. Just like that.” He leaned over her, and a shudder rippled over him as his backside flexed.

  “God!” Dakota’s cry clenched my balls.

  “Fuck, your ass is so tight.” Shorts resting beneath his perfectly round cheeks, Jon took his wife’s ass, while like a true pervert, I watched and masturbated.

  Her cries spurred him on and hasted my sliding grip. Her hands grasped at his shirt, his hair, and I squeezed my hardened sack.

  “M-more, Jon.” Dakota’s legs shuddered around his waist as she gasped, a moan following seconds later. “Harder. Please.”

  He grunted and groaned words of love, his hips pistoning toward her. The combined scent of their desire rose, filling my home with the most divine scent.

  Dakota shrieked, and Jon captured her mouth, muffling her climax. Seconds later, he followed, his low growl of her name tingling deep within my groin.

  I bit down on my lip and allowed myself to follow on a strangled groan, filling my fist with the seed that was meant for her—and him—my mates.

  Chapter Eight

  Jonathan

  Focusing on Dakota while fucking had proved harder than usual because Elijah’s scent permeated damn near everything. He’d left us, but even the air simmered with the strangeness I felt between us whenever he stood in close proximity.

  Whispering endearments, declaring my love to Dakota over and over again didn’t diminish the thoughts I cheated on her mentally. Growling out her name when finally coming deep inside her tight ass, both of us sweat-drenched and out of breath didn’t lessen my guilt.

  I collapsed atop her, out of breath and spent. She still clutched at my ass with her heels, her hands holding tight to my back.

  “God.” She swallowed loudly in the sudden stillness. “What was that?”

  Burying my face in her neck, I fought off the truth about the situation I found myself in. “That was me loving you.”

  She giggled. “You’ve got to start loving me every day, then. Holy shit, that was hot.”

  “I do love you, Dakota.”

  “I know, baby.” She kissed my cheek and lifted my head, her soft hands cradling my cheeks. Lit only by the waving light of the fire’s embers, I couldn’t make her face out clearly. “You’re my world,” she whispered the statement, but I caught the hint of a question in her voice—did I believe her, she wondered.

  We shared everything, every thought, but mine toward Elijah—and hers as well—wasn’t something I wanted to discuss. Best just to enjoy the guy’s generosity for the night and light out with the sun in the morning. Back to New York, back to my jobless, bleak life.

  At least I had Dakota.

  ****

  I couldn’t sleep worth a shit. Guess the energy of Elijah’s home did more than act like a little blue pill to my dick. Like I’d had three shots of espresso, my body and mind buzzed, electrified and ready … for what, I didn’t know.

  Dakota’s steady breathing beside me let me know she didn’t suffer from the same, thank fuck, because when the wife was exhausted, she became a sullen bear, best left untouched and unspoken to until she snapped out of her funk.

  I found myself grinning at the dark ceiling of the guest room. Even when acting like a bitch, she was magnificent. Those were the only times I loved her from afar, biding my time until she slept, had some food, or her hormonal swings passed. The IUD she used to prevent pregnancy kept her from the lovely womanly cramps and stuff I didn’t want to know about, but not the fluctuations of happy one minute, sad the next once a month.

  She claimed fucking helped—and I was always glad to assist—but I waited for her to initiate during those five to seven days. Thank fuck that had been the week before, because I wouldn’t have been able to keep my hands off her the entire day spent in Elijah’s company.

  My dick swelled again at the thought of him, and I wondered not for the tenth time what the fuck was wrong with my body. Unnatural, but something I wouldn’t mind sticking around after we left in the morning.

  I glanced over at my poor wife… She must be sore as hell, because I hadn’t taken it easy on her the three times we’d fucked in the previous twelve hours. But she’d also been a slickened, sopping mess before my pre-cum added to the lubrication between us. Hell, we’d both been so turned on, I hadn’t needed anything other than what our bodies produced to take her ass earlier that night.

  Elijah’s doing? I wondered yet again, but with fewer insecurities clanging in my brain. How could I be jealous when the mere thought of him made me hard as fucking steel? I hadn’t realized I’d palmed my dick, but the involuntary thrust of my hips crashed the reality of temptation into me.

  I wanted him—in my mouth, in my ass—I didn’t fucking care where. Slipping out of the bed would be an easy feat seeing as how Dakota slept like the dead once she passed out. Elijah and I could fuck each other out of our systems, I could crawl back into bed with my wife none-the-wiser—

  Fuck.

  Releasing my grip on my cock, I flung my forearm over my eyes, scowling at the sick thoughts of infidelity. Fucking him wasn’t an option. Period. How would I feel if I found out Dakota had snuck into his bed and begged him to take her in every hole, in every way imaginable while I slept?

  I should have been pissed at the thought. Should have wanted to punch the fucker in the face. Instead, I fought off a groan thinking instead of sitting on a chair in the dark corner, watching him stuff my wife full of his dick. Making her breath catch. Making her beg for release.

  Dakota whimpered in her sleep, the same type of sound followed by a moan she usually let out when we fucked—she emitted a low one before my thought cut off. Pre-cum oozed from my dick at the thought she dreamed of Elijah fucking her, and half-mad with lust, I rolled toward her, cradling her backside.

  She shifted in my arms as I nuzzled her neck and moaned again when I reached between her legs and found her wet.

  Pulling her thigh over my hip, I entered her from behind, but reminded myself to be gentle. Make love rather than fuck. She arched against me, palming her breasts and pinching her nipples while I played with her little nub between folds of slickened, satiny skin.

  The desire to bite her neck swept over me seconds before I blew my load, but I clenched my jaw, allowing her pulsing pussy to drag me over and milk me dry.

  Chapter Nine

  Dakota

  My eyelids popped open, and I blinked at the gorgeous sunrise through the window. Usually, I lingered in bed, enjoying the sleepy warmth of waking to a new day, but as though caffeine already swam in my system, I found myself wide awake. Ready to move—itching to move.

  Jon snored lightly from behind me, and I untangled myself from his heavy limbs. We’d fucked in the middle of the night and hadn’t bothered cleaning up afterward while sharing breaths in the silence between us until falling back to sleep.

  Cum smeared down my thighs even though
we’d had sex a record number of times in the previous twenty-four hours.

  The warmth of the stone beneath my feet surprised me, as did the lack of chill in the cavernous bedroom. Naked, I made my way to the bathroom and cleaned up the mess we’d made. Returning to the doorway, I stood, hands on hips and enjoyed the sexy view of my husband.

  Tanned limbs, tangled in sheets rumpled from having sex, mussed, golden hair, parted lips, the gentle rise and fall of the chest cradling a heart I all but worshiped.

  I smiled and pulled on his t-shirt from the day before, the one hinting at his sweat, his natural scent—and Elijah’s.

  The man’s essence covered everything, and I wondered if Jon could smell him on me even though our host hadn’t touched me beyond a graze of fingers. Was Elijah’s scent the cause of Jon’s sudden insatiable lust?

  Is it mine?

  A shiver slid down my spine, and I tiptoed from the room, pushing my focus on getting coffee for Jon. Waking him in bed with a sleepy kiss. Maybe one last ride on his cock before heading home.

  The welcoming lights rose in the hallway to light my way, but as the great room opened below me, the need for artificial light disappeared. A spectacular view of the White Mountains, the lower ones with fog kissing their bases, filled the wall of one-way windows. Pink and gold etched across the sky, promising a new day, a new beginning.

  Smiling, I hurried down the stairs into the kitchen, promising myself to capture every view from Elijah’s windows with my camera before we left.

  Coffee grounds sat ready in the French press, along with the makings for my green tea beside it.

  Thoughtful sweetheart.

  I turned on the stovetop, ears straining for a hint of our host’s whereabouts. The only sound stirring the stillness besides the simmering teapot was the ticking of a clock. Once the water neared boiling, I poured it over the coffee grounds and into my waiting mug. Still no hint of Elijah’s whereabouts or noise from Jon upstairs.

  Needing that first couple of sips before pouring Jon’s coffee and heading back up to him, I cradled the mug in my hands, breathing in the steam. Piping hot with a swirl of honey. Perfection.

  I found myself walking to the sliding doors leading onto the veranda as though drawn by the beauty beyond. Thinking I just wanted a few minutes enjoying the brisk morning, I grabbed a fleece throw off the couch and followed where my body led, sliding the unlocked door open and stepping out onto the cold stone of the veranda.

  My breath fogged in front of me, but I slid the door shut and moved across the patio to the wrought-iron fenced edge. A sheer drop fell away before me, and a stairway of natural stone led down to the right, opposite of how we’d approached the day before.

  Another smaller stone veranda lay to the east at the bottom of the stairs.

  Elijah stood in the rising sun’s rays, his upper body bare and glistened with sweat. He moved through some sort of yoga-type fighting stances—Tai something or another—with lethal grace, every muscle of his body flexing and stretching with the preciseness of a machine.

  I clutched the throw around me, forgetting all about the steaming tea in my other hand as every cell in my body honed in on him, my desire to freeze the image in my camera’s lens to drool over later.

  The sunlight glinting off his damp skin brought to mind the dragon from my dream, the scales I had writhed upon, and the story he had told us. Arousal, thick and wet rose between my legs, and I should have turned away. I should have torn my focus and thoughts off Elijah.

  My feet remained rooted to the cold stone, growing numb as I continued to stare at his liquid movements, at the powerful muscles lining his legs. The bulk of his shoulders … the ripple of his stomach … the bulge hugged by tight shorts.

  He turned sideways, shifting weight on his bent, left leg, arms stretched out, and lifted his gaze.

  Pale eyes met mine, catching my breath.

  Elijah held the stance, unmoving, unshaking as we stared at each other in the morning light, the sexual tension spanning the distance between us and catching my breath.

  I could taste his sweat on my tongue, could smell the brimstone and sex scent of him in the air. My body leaked arousal down my thighs.

  For Elijah, not my husband.

  Heart squeezing as though in a vise, I spun and hurried back inside. I felt like a cheating whore, drooling and dripping over another man.

  Jon stood at the top of the stairs, shirtless, bleary-eyed, and scratching his balls through his shorts. His face lit as his gaze landed on me, his slow, easy smile melting my heart. “Looks cold out there.”

  “Mmm,” I hummed an affirmative, and head down to hide my flaming face, hurried into the kitchen. “Coffee?” I asked, my voice a squeak.

  “Fuck, yes.”

  I poured the rich brew into a mug, my hand shaking.

  Jon wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Morning, beautiful.”

  “Hey, baby.” I couldn’t turn, couldn’t let him read my face. God knew what he would think of the emotions crashing around inside of me, and without doubt showing in my eyes, in the thin press of my lips. “Gotta pee,” I said, slipping out of his hold as he reached for the coffee.

  I hurried up the stairs, Jon’s trailing gaze lifting the hairs on my neck.

  Chapter Ten

  Elijah

  I knew the second Dakota had stepped onto the veranda. The longer she stayed at the railing, the more her arousal had filled the air. Her presence overrode my focus, and I couldn’t help but glance up at her. Frozen in Single Whip pose, everything but her pull on me diminished to static in my mind.

  Lips parted, pupils huge, she stared.

  Come to me, I whispered in my head, hoping she would hear the silent command between fated mates.

  She spun away.

  My arms dropped to my sides, and I straightened, head tilted back in hopes she would appear above me once more. Some time passed before I stopped waiting, grabbed my towel, and made my way back through the lower entrance near the wine cellar.

  I pondered the desire on all three sides. I pondered Jon’s insecurities he’d silently revealed the evening before. Being in his alpha’s house would call to the dragonblood in him, make him want to submit to me, but he didn’t seem the submissive type.

  The longer they stayed, however, the harder it would be for them to leave. I needed them to stay, needed them to linger, but how?

  I found myself alone in the main living area when I passed the staircase threshold leading from the lower levels. A deep breath and careful listening assured me they hadn’t yet left. Jon’s cup of coffee sat half-finished on the counter, Dakota’s barely-touched tea beside.

  Did Jon see her watching me? Could he smell her as I could? Did jealousy eat at him?

  Moving up the stairs toward the bedrooms, I focused in on the sound of running water—shower, I realized while passing their cracked-open door. My foot stumbled at Dakota’s moan, but jaw clenched, I continued on toward my room even though the unclosed door suggested invitation to join them.

  Shower, dress, and think up a way to make them stay, I told myself, trying to shut out the sounds of them and the resulting images my brain created. My mind didn’t offer the answer to the conundrum I faced, and until I returned downstairs, intent on a cup of coffee and seeing both of their faces, my palms sweated and heart raced at the thought they would leave me.

  Coffee in hand, I stood in the kitchen, listening as they exited their room and made their way down the hall. Backpacks loaded and in hand, neither met my gaze while walking down the stairs. The thumps of their dropped bags sounded loud, like a dead weight falling to the ground—exactly as the heart in my chest.

  No one spoke.

  Jon peered at me, Dakota’s gaze flitting between the two of us. Although freshly showered, their hair still damp, the scent of their combined cum clung to them. My dragon wanted to smear mine over both of them, chain them up and force them to stay. Force a mating they might not want.
<
br />   My throat tightened as my stomach twisted. Why did they need to leave? According to what they’d said, another week of vacation lay before them—and Jon had no job to return to.

  “My job,” I said, my voice higher than usual. “I need to go out of town earlier than expected. It’s the government contract I spoke of.” Mind scrambling, I blurted the first thing that came to mind. “I’m not prepared, and can’t leave things left undone here at home. Solar batteries, and the like.”

  Neither moved.

  “I don’t suppose I could talk you into staying for a few more days while I’m gone?” I focused on Jon. “I could show you what needs to be done while I’m away.”

  He still didn’t speak, but I could see the desire to stay—and the hesitation over accepting.

  “I’ll pay you,” I tossed out when Jon glanced down at his wife, beyond desperate for him to agree.

  “What do you think, Dakota?” he asked, his voice low.

  “Your call,” she whispered, glancing over at me.

  “We don’t have to be home until next Sunday, latest,” Jon said, returning his focus my way. “When would you return?”

  “Friday, earliest.” If it earned me the time needed to sway my mates into staying, the lies would be invaluable.

  The blue eyes I’d once thought innocent, stared into mine as though reading into every word for exactly what they were. A smile hinted at his lips. “Any chance you could use your chopper to take us home when the time comes?”

  A rush of breath I hadn’t realized I’d held expelled through my parted lips. “I’ll do whatever it takes for you to agree to stay.” Please, I called out to him through the energy connecting us. Submit to my request.

  “You got yourself a deal, friend.” Jon stuck out his hand, and I clasped it in mine, the hint of dragonblood in his veins sending a charge up through my arm and straight to my groin.

  “I need to pack,” I said, being the first to pull my hand away. “I—I’ll find you before I leave.”