Page 18 of Drawn By Dragonblood
I chuckled to myself, wondering yet again why my insides didn’t rage with possessiveness. If Elijah wished to get into my wife’s pants, he knew exactly how to go about getting there. Not that she would give in to him.
I forced my focus back on the woman beside me and ran my hand down her arm as she leaned against me with another sigh. I wanted to pry, to ask what she thought of him, if she felt the need to take pictures of him to tuck away and ponder over, but again with the damned inability to voice the question.
“Tired?” I asked instead, not ready to discuss whatever the hell was making me reconsider more than I thought possible.
“You wore me out,” she said, keeping her voice low.
My cock twitched at the memory of how she’d come around my cock like my rigid length had some magical touch that stroked more than her g-spot. Her cries had seemed louder than usual, the contractions of her pussy around my aching shaft pulsing with an intensity I couldn’t remember feeling before.
Did the thought of Elijah do that to her? Was the fantasy of him while taking my dick able to turn her on more than I did? Was she growing bored with the same old, same old of hopping in the sack with me? Was I becoming only the man who hadn’t been able to fulfill her desire for babies before I’d lost the ability to properly provide for just the two of us?
I’d only been plagued once by a lack of confidence in my relationship with Dakota, and I wasn’t sure how to handle the emotion the questions roused. Sure, I had a shit ton of insecurities about other stuff from my childhood, but my relationship with her hadn’t ever truly been tested before. Not even that one strange guy all those years ago we’d ended up fighting about.
He’d been nothing but a blip on our radar that had caused problems because we hadn’t known how to communicate back then. Now, we did—but something hindered me from sharing jack shit.
Dakota rested her hand flat against my chest above my heart as though staking her claim. “Love you,” she murmured, nuzzling her cheek against my shoulder.
“Love you more,” I whispered my usual response, wondering if I really did speak the truth rather than tease like usual.
Elijah’s story rang deep inside of me though, in places I’d long forgotten about. The child in me who had always dreamed of dragons, of the imaginary friend who soared the skies, keeping watch over me in my loneliness. Flickered images of that midnight-colored dragon had come to mind as Elijah’s deep voice and his tale had rolled over me. Either I’d become so fucking hot for our host that I started imagining things, or I swore the man’s eyes matched the memory of my imaginary friend.
I’d never wanted to kneel before the dragon who’d kept me company throughout childhood and even into my adult dreams on occasion, but Elijah?
Shifting on the couch didn’t help my swelling cock. I’d never imagined myself to be a kinky fuck, but my body sure as shit wanted that man to string me up and consume every part of me. Even my skin itched to feel the scrape of his teeth, the bruising of his fingertips.
“Are you okay?” Dakota asked without moving.
Sure she sensed the increasing tension inside of me, I heaved a breath and rubbed her arm again, trying to chill the fuck out and relax. “Yeah.”
“Want to go take a nap?”
I smirked down at my wife, but my gaze strayed to Elijah who stood at the sink, his back to us. A nap equaled a little lovin’ in Dakota’s language. Maybe making love to her rather than fucking her like a goddamn animal would lessen whatever the hell the strangeness inside me longed for.
I opened my mouth to whisper a question about how rude it would be to skip out on Elijah, but he cleared his throat, drawing my gaze. Dakota’s head lifted from my shoulder. The sexual pull reached across the cave, tripping up my heartbeat and making the air too thick with tension to inhale a full breath.
That reel he had me on—fucking hell, I wanted to swallow down whatever had gotten me hooked.
“Please make yourselves at home,” he said, his voice soft yet easily heard. “There’s food and beer in the refrigerator and a wine cellar downstairs.” He shifted his pale gaze to Dakota. “If you’d rather, rest for a while. I’ve got some work that needs my attention.”
“Thanks,” I said as Dakota murmured the same.
With a dip of his head, he turned, disappearing behind a door beneath the stairs that led to the second floor.
I imagined him heading down to a dungeon, complete with whips and chains. Ball gags and cock rings.
My skin burned to be touched. Tortured. Devoured.
The fuck?
Biting back my groan over shit I’d never actually considered before, I pushed off the couch. “How about that nap?” I said, pulling Dakota up to her feet.
Her nipples and pebbled skin betrayed her.
So why didn’t I feel betrayed?
An hour later, somewhat sated and wide awake, I stared at the rock ceiling above the massive bed we sprawled over. The rain had stopped, and streaks of afternoon sunlight cut across the sky outside the lone window. Dakota slept beside me, her light snores barely heard through the tangled thoughts in my head. I’d worn her ass out.
And hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Elijah while enjoying all she’d offered.
