Page 85 of Drawn By Dragonblood
The heat in his stare, the promise of rocking my motherfucking world, sent those butterflies all aflutter again. “Then he can,” I said, my voice husky.
“God.” Dakota half-moaned the word.
“You desire to watch me love your husband, mon coeur?” Elijah asked her while holding my stare with lust enough to flood my dick with blood.
Her gulp sounded loud in the cavern while I chuckled over the fact he’d gone for French when he’d already gotten her to pant by speaking English. “Yes.”
Elijah noticed me press down on my dick before licking his lips. “Later. For now,” he stood, revealing his cock no longer hung between his thighs but bobbed up toward his belly button like mine, “let’s clean up and go pack an overnight bag.”
“Where are we going?” I stared at the prominent vein running up the backside of his shaft—his very thick and long shaft.
Fuck.
My asshole clenched but not from fear of being wrecked. He would definitely rearrange my guts, and I couldn’t fucking wait.
“The government officials moved up our meetings, and you’re both going to New York with me,” Elijah stated.
“Bossy fucker,” I muttered even though I grinned.
One of his eyebrows shot up as if to say, “Just you wait.”
Bring it, you sexy beast.
Chapter 31
Dakota
Elijah said he’d been to Manhattan and back the day before, but neither Jon nor I had heard the helicopter. It sat in the garage, black and shiny, and I couldn’t contain the giddiness in my chest. I’d never ridden in a helicopter before, and the machine reminded me so much of my dream of riding the dragon that my panties didn’t stand a chance.
The men had shared me as I’d fantasized about, and it had blown every expectation, every hope for a life-altering climax clear out of my head. Their cocks owning my body had been fifty times better and more potent than my silly imagination.
Becoming one with both men had been so much more than satisfying an itch. I’d been the cheese in their sandwich, the good stuff between two slices of delicious bread. I’d brought them together—and had ideas of doing more of the same in the near future.
Jon had always been enough for me, but before Elijah, I hadn’t realized how much my husband and I had been missing out on. And Jon’s willingness to explore his sexuality?
So. Damned. Hot.
The insatiable need I’d had for Jon since walking into Elijah’s home—and for the man himself—had tripled, and I felt half-mad with lust. Add in the fact we’d finally had the necessary conversation that put my fears of hurting Jon to rest, and I couldn’t focus on anything but sex and getting close with the two men. Sure, climaxing was beyond belief, but the tenderness, aftercare, and gentle touches afterward?
They’d treated me like a queen, the most desired and appreciated woman on the planet. Who wouldn’t become addicted to that feeling? I hadn’t wanted to move and not because of being boneless and sated. I wanted to soak in their warmth, be cloaked with all that they were.
Energy had continued to ripple among the three of us over breakfast, and how we managed to shower, pack, and head to the garage without someone getting fucked again was beyond me. Only a slight ache remained from how they’d taken me in the kitchen, but the need for continued intimacy erased any tinge of pain from my thoughts.
I sat on the seat behind the men, our bags on the one beside me, and settled the headset over my ears as the rotor blades started to spin. The noise intensified, but the headset kept me comfortable. I grinned like an idiot, my attention flicking from blond to darker head, my heart melting with every profile glance they allowed me.
Both freshly shaven, golden skin, and my husband’s freckles, and all I wanted to do was get them naked again, their bodies pressing against mine while trying to reach the other.
“Damn,” I muttered, squeezing my thighs together.
Jon glanced over his shoulder at me, an eyebrow raised. “What?” His voice sounded slightly muffled in the headphones.
“Oh.” My face heated as I realized I’d spoken out loud into the small mic beside my mouth. “Just, um, admiring the view.”
He held my gaze as Elijah flicked a few buttons, readying for takeoff. “Are you wet, baby?”
“You two—I can’t help it,” I answered, breathy to the point Jon’s eyes darkened with yummy intent.
“Buckle your seatbelt,” he told me before glancing at Elijah. He bit on his lower lip but quickly came to a conclusion.
