Page 30 of Drawn By Dragonblood
Best just to enjoy the guy’s generosity for the night and light out with the sun. Back to our shit car at the trail head, New York, and my jobless, bleak life I wasn’t sure how to move forward in.
At least I had Dakota to walk beside me and hold my hand when I stumbled in my inability to be a real man like my foster father had attempted to mold me into.
That sense of failure I’d had riding my shoulders for months crashed into me with renewed strength. Seeing all Elijah had, hearing of his accomplishments even though he’d spoken of them humbly, made me realize what a loser I really was.
A long-haired hippy who would rather slouch with a game controller in his hand while staring at a huge screen on a wall rather than sit in a cubicle somewhere, fingers banging away at a keyboard for some rich CEO who treated his employees like slaves.
Envy over Elijah’s accomplishments snaked through my blood but did absolute jack shit to erase my lust for the rich-as-fuck man housing us for the night.
“Let’s go to bed,” Dakota murmured, and I gave her my weight to plant a slow, soft kiss to her mouth, counting my blessings.
Attempting to, at least, but a hole gaped open inside my chest.
Why was I suddenly feeling as though something…lacked? She’d always been enough for me, so what the actual fuck? And how had we gotten to this point where some heavy shit lay between us, but neither of us seemed able to bring it up? Since when did walls erect between me and Dakota?
She grimaced when I pulled out, my cum seeping from her swollen asshole.
I ripped my shirt off and pressed it between her legs, wishing I could do so much more than care for her physically after taking out my aggression on her sweet pucker. “I’ll carry you up to the shower.”
Dakota snuggled against my chest, clinging to my neck as I held her in my arms, and I was thankful as fuck for her love. We would make it. Somehow, we would overcome whatever this moment was, same as we’d done that last time we’d fought almost a decade ago.
That shit had gotten left in the past where it belonged, and so would Elijah.
Eventually.
Hopefully.
A grimace marked my face at the conflict in my damned chest over my head. Talk about a fucking tug-of-war.
The large cavern’s lights faded to darkness behind us as I climbed the stairs, my steps heavy.
Fire and brimstone along with something decidedly sweet and mouthwatering hit my nose once I reached the landing, causing my spent dick to twitch.
Dakota swallowed hard as though her drool factory had been flicked to life as mine had.
Fuck.
I shifted her slight weight, clinging to her a little tighter, starting to wonder if there was some sort of supernatural bullshit going on to make us both horny as teenagers.
That idea lingered long after our shower where I’d washed my exhausted wife, both of us lost in silent contemplation. Usually, we would talk about whatever had stolen our thoughts so thoroughly, but for me, I needed to figure shit out before spewing anything that would lead us down a path that I feared would turn dark.
I couldn’t sleep and lay staring into the night long after Dakota passed out snuggled up against my side. The seemingly magical energy of Elijah’s home did more than act like a little blue pill to my dick. As if I’d had three shots of espresso, my body and mind buzzed, electrified and ready.
For what, I could guess at and lusted for all while hating myself for it.
Dakota’s steady breathing beside me let me know she didn’t suffer from the same wakefulness, thank fuck, because when the wife was dead on her feet, she became a sullen bear, best left untouched and unspoken to until she slept a solid ten or so hours.
I found myself grinning at the dark ceiling of the guest room. Even when in bitch mode, she was magnificent. Those were the only days I loved her from afar, biding my time until she rested, 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 exactly enjoy hearing about, but not the fluctuations of happy one minute, sad the next once a month.
She claimed fucking helped to keep her blues away, 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 with how easily I’d gotten hard all damned day. An unnatural phenomenon but something I wouldn’t mind lingering after we left come morning.
I glanced over at my 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 slide into her ass earlier.
Elijah’s doing?
I wondered yet again but with fewer insecurities clanging in my brain. How could I attempt to rouse jealousy I ought to feel when the mere memory of him made me hard as fucking steel? I hadn’t realized I’d palmed my dick, but the involuntary thrust of my hips causing me to fuck my hand brought the reality of temptation crashing into me.
