Page 37 of Drawn By Dragonblood
The lack of Elijah’s presence eased some of the tension in my shoulders, but hints of his alluring aura and energy remained behind. My libido lingered on edge, making me continue to long for what I shouldn’t.
“You really want to go out for the day?” Jon asked, pulling open the fridge.
The idea of leaving Elijah’s home made me squeamish for some reason. “No. Not really.”
He handed me a beer, and we twisted the caps off and clinked the bottles together. His blue eyes twinkled down at me as he flashed his dimples. “Let’s get drunk and break in every piece of his furniture.”
“Probably doesn’t get much action,” I mused quietly, feeling sorry for our host but not so much it killed the mood. Add in the remnants of Elijah’s brimstone smell that clung to everything in his cave-like house, and I was insatiable.
“Probably not.”
I held Jon’s gaze while taking a big swig. “Kitchen table first?” I asked, one brow raised, my body primed and ready for him when we’d have been better off sharing words rather than bodily fluids.
“After that, I’m bending you over the couch,” he promised, heat kindling in his eyes and causing my pussy to pulse.
I swallowed another mouthful of the bitter hops, humming my agreement.
“Then we can christen where he and I were lifting weights?—”
“And every other room we find behind closed doors,” I tacked on, some strange part of me wanting to cover Elijah’s belongings with Jon’s and my scent.
“What if they’re locked?” Jon asked, his grin infectious.
“Maybe those keys will let us in,” I said, raising my beer and nodding toward the ring of them Jon had tossed on the counter.
“Maybe.”
We downed our beers, and Jon grabbed us a second cold bottle each. Another cheers, and we mentioned the wine cellar and the front seat of the Humvee for our future sex-capades since we didn’t have much else to do and we both were feeling the horniest of our lives.
“What about his bed?” I blurted a sudden thought and slapped a hand over my mouth, snickering and cursing in my head at the same time.
One of Jon’s eyebrows cocked upward, a hint of mischievous devil in his eyes. “Think he would know if we did?”
I shrugged, believing if he did find out, he’d probably jerk off to fantasies of us fucking where he lay every night. “Who cares?” I said, a breathless bundle of hormones while hopping up onto the island ready to get started. “Come here.” Setting my nearly empty second bottle of beer aside, I reached for Jon, snagging his T-shirt in my fist.
“I need to do some laundry,” I said, nuzzling my nose against his hard, warm chest and breathing in Elijah as well as my husband.
“Later,” he said gently pushing me back enough he could pull my shirt off overhead. “And no damn bras or panties while he’s gone either.” He cupped my throbbing core through my leggings. “I want this pussy available to me all day, every day. Pulsing around my cock after I give it the lovin’ it’s so damned wet for.”
“God, ye?—”
He swallowed the ending of my word with his mouth crushed to mine, and we began our plan to fuck our way through Elijah’s house.
I had wrapped my legs around Jon as he’d carried me to the living room. He’d lifted me off his hard shaft, spun me around, pushed me down over the edge of the couch where Elijah’s head had rested, and fucked into me so damn hard we’d jostled the couch out of its place.
Elijah’s scent had swarmed my nose as it pressed against the leather, the thought of him being there with us, shoving his cock down my throat making me come harder than ever before.
Mind on replay of that euphoric climax it took a good half hour to recover from, I tossed our laundry into Elijah’s washer. I’d stolen the clothes Jon had worn while he lay sprawled on the couch butt naked, flicking through the few TV channels Elijah’s satellite offered.
Since I wasn’t allowed a bra or panties, I’d told Jon he couldn’t wear clothing—at all. If my pussy had to be accessible at all times, his cock had to be a hand or mouthful away, no hindrances.
He’d agreed without question, making both of us burst into carefree laughter like we used to do before Jon had lost his job and the world had seemed to crash down on him.
Eyeing one of Elijah’s button-down shirts hanging nearby, I pulled off the tee I’d had on earlier and donned to gather our laundry and tossed it into the wash as well. After starting the wash, I pulled Elijah’s shirt off the hanger and buried my nose against the expensive fabric.
God.
A whimper rose past my lips.
