Page 31 of Drawn By Dragonblood
I wanted him—in my mouth, in my untouched ass—I didn’t fucking care where. And that goddamned driving force, that tractor beam-like draw insisted I move. 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, and 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 sickness 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?
Oh fucking hell.
I fought off a groan, visions of sitting on a chair in the dark corner, watching him stuff my wife full of his dick filling my mind. She would whine to come but only release when he demanded it from her. Then he would tell me to come in his low, growly voice, and I would black out from busting a nut so goddamned hard I couldn’t breathe.
Blowing out a steady exhale, I focused on relaxing my body.
But it was another hour at least before I finally passed the fuck out.
Chapter 10
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 morning, but as though caffeine already swam in my system, I found myself wide awake, ready and itching to move.
Jon snored lightly from behind me, and I rolled to take in my sexy husband. He was a vision of tanned limbs tangled in rumpled sheets, mussed hair, and parted full lips that had been kissing me senseless for years. The gentle rise and fall of his chest cradled a heart I all but worshiped.
I smiled while climbing out of bed and pulled on his T-shirt from the day before that had been soaked with his sweat, his natural scent—and Elijah’s.
The man’s essence covered everything like a magical creature from the books I read. I wondered if Jon could smell Elijah 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 as memories of the last shifter book I’d read created too many fantasies in my mind. Being claimed. Bitten. Owned and bred. Warmth rose in my core, a hot, achy need that required a dick to sate. Even better would be two?—
I blinked the image away, released a slow exhale, and tiptoed from the room.
Coffee for Jon, I told myself to keep my thoughts contained to the sanctity of our marriage. Wake him in bed with a sleepy kiss only he deserved. Maybe enjoy one last ride on his cock before heading back down the mountain toward our car and home.
Something inside me hated the idea of leaving. Almost a…hiss of sorts spitting in anger like a pissed off cat with its hackles raised.
But I was no witch with a familiar.
The welcoming illumination rose in the hallway, 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 windows. Pink and gold etched across the sky, promising a new day.
A new beginning.
Smiling, I hurried down the stairs into the kitchen, needing to finish my task so I could capture every view from Elijah’s mountaintop home with my camera before Jon and I left.
Coffee grounds already sat ready in the French press, along with the makings for my green tea beside it.
My smile widened as warmth spread through my chest.
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. There was 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, the tea was perfection.
I made my way to the sliding doors leading onto the veranda, drawn by the beauty beyond. Thinking I would take a few minutes to enjoy the brisk morning all to myself, I grabbed a fleece throw off the couch and followed where my body led, sliding the unlocked door open and stepping out onto the veranda.
My breath fogged in front of me, but I slid the door shut and shuffled across the cold stone of 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 outcropping lay to the east at the bottom of the stairs.
Elijah stood in the rising sun’s rays, his upper body bare and glistening with sweat. He moved through some sort of yoga-type fighting stances—tai something or another most likely—with beautiful grace, the muscles of his body flexing and stretching with the preciseness of a machine.
