Page 60 of Destined By Dragonblood
A shriek fled my lungs as my core pulsed, needing a solid shaft to flood me full of seed.
Yessss.
I cried out again, bucking and chasing every last clench of my core, the rush of adrenaline and satiated bliss.
Master.
Dolyn.
Both of their images hovered in my conscience, the scent of their musk heavy in my nose regardless of their absence.
My body sagged onto my bed, both hands easing from between my thighs.
I’d masturbated successfully for the first time since my teenage years, and while I expected having two hot men to focus on while toying with my body helped, I was starting to believe that complete healing would soon be found.
But one step at a time.
During my lunch break on Monday, I texted Dolyn, asking him if we could meet.
He suggested a restaurant on the first floor of the building across from Vanni’s. Temptation to include my master had me toying with my cell, but I’d been truthful with Vanni. I needed to settle things with Dolyn before moving forward toward a possible triad.
My insides jittered throughout the rest of the day, but upon feeling Dolyn’s warm gaze on me once I exited Tolzman Industries, I settled inside. Exactly as I’d done upon leaving my house that morning intent on making it into work on time. His proximity, while arousing, was the thickest blanket on a cold day. Comfort I’d come to trust in the deepest parts of my soul—separate being or not, we were in agreement Dolyn belonged to us.
I wasn’t sure when my thought patterns about there being two parts to me had changed, but it felt right to converse in my head, the occasional whispers of agreement or single-worded answers bringing peace rather than fear.
Clinging to my newfound inner friend I wasn’t ready to tell my therapist about, I headed north on foot, my coat unbuttoned, the warmer air a pleasant gift after the chill of a long winter.
Spring still lay weeks ahead, but the teaser from Mother Nature was deeply appreciated.
I filled my lungs with exhaust and the scent of rubbish, unable to stop smiling as Dolyn’s presence drew close enough behind me to cause my pulse to race.
A hand slid into mine, the skin contact racing delicious shivers over my skin.
I squeezed, glancing up to find golden eyes full of warmth drinking in the sight of me. “Hi,” I whispered.
“Hello, my beautiful female.” Dolyn’s husky yet rumbling voice raised goose bumps over my arms, and I bit my lip to keep the flutters in my belly from bubbling up as giggles.
Our bodies bumped as we walked the remaining few yards to the restaurant.
Dolyn released his hold on me to pull open the door, and although I missed his touch, I appreciated the fact chivalry was indeed not dead.
“Table for Kemmerly?” Dolyn told the hostess who stared at him like he was a piece of chocolate cake and she’d been dieting for six months.
Mine.
I hissed beneath my breath, and she glanced over my peacoat, plain black slacks, and worn boots, her nose wrinkling.
“This way.” Chin high, she moved like a model on a catwalk, every step accentuating her lush curves I wished filled out my slender form.
Dolyn gathered me against him, tucking me against his side.
Appreciation over his possessiveness filled me, far more than any physical desire. I felt seen, heard, and accepted as-is. Wart on my pinkie finger and all.
Once seated, we stared at each other from across the table in the back corner of the restaurant. Quiet instrumental music played, and the dim lights set a scene for romance and intimacy.
“Thank you for watching over me this weekend.”
“Thank you for allowing me the pleasure.”
