Page 17 of Dragon Strife
“That’s just what I needed to know, thank you,” Ajani groans. I snicker into Genevieve’s neck, refusing to be distracted from the taste of her skin.
“You already know it, we both do,” Delia adds when I finally come up for air while scrubbing her face with her hand. “We hear it enough.”
“You need to find yourself a boyfriend, or girlfriend,” Malik teases Delia. “It’ll be better than listening to your brother get off.”
Delia audibly gags and then pushes away from the table. “That’s my cue to go to bed.” She heads toward my room, knowing Malik and I will be in Genevieve’s bed. “‘Night, V!” she calls out.
“Good night, Del!” Genevieve replies as our eyes lock. Ajani and Delia still call her V and I can see she likes it and prefers it over her real name, but to me, she’ll always be Genevieve Varga. There’s importance in the name you are given at birth, and I refuse to allow her to forget where she came from.
“Bed sounds good,” Ajani mumbles as his chair scrapes along the floor, the sound pulling me from my girl’s gaze. “Good night.”
“Try to stay in your own bed, yeah?” Malik snickers and my brows furrow in confusion.
“Fuck off,” Ajani grumbles and then heads to bed.
I open my mouth to ask what the fuck Malik is talking about but it’s immediately filled with Genevieve’s tongue. She tastes of tequila and lemon and sugary pastry, mixed with her own brand, making my already hard cock pulse beneath the zipper of my pants. She grinds down on my lap and pulls back from my mouth, her dark blue eyes hooded and filled with lust.
“I’m going to shower and then I expect the both of you to be naked in my bed,” she requests, or more like demands, as she stands up.
“Do I get a choice this time?” Malik eyes her as she walks by him.
“Do you really want one?” She pulls on his hair and tosses me a wink before looking back to Malik. “Don’t deny it, you loved being taken advantage of in the middle of the forest with your ass in the grass.”
I don’t miss the slight blush forming along Malik’s cheekbones, and when she continues sauntering toward the bathroom, I give him a shocked look.
“Are you blushing?” I lean on the table, pressing my palms to the wooden surface. “Is Malik Charles blushing?”
“You would be too if it was your ass laid out in the grass!” he exclaims. “That girl owns me now, cock and balls.” He grabs himself under the table for emphasis.
“I think it’s supposed to be heart and soul,” I reply with a snort.
“Not when you don’t possess either of those things.” He shrugs and then takes another swig from the tequila bottle.
If this conversation happened a few months ago, I would agree with the bastard wholeheartedly. I truly believed Malik was heartless and his soul black, but now I see things differently. He only projects that because he believes it, or he was made to believe it. The whole thing makes me want to crawl inside his mind and sift through his childhood, knowing I would find the answer in there somewhere. I can’t help it, it’s the doctor in me who wants to cure everyone.
Unfortunately, I’m too drunk to cure anything other than my girl’s pussy tonight.
“Six days and we have to bring her to Barrett.” Malik breaks my thoughts and the silence with his serious concerns. “I’m going to have to kill him and endure the fallout.”
The fallout would be a person worse than Barrett or Bear, or even Malik Charles. The thought of that happening puts a damper on the mood. “You can’t kill him,” I comment, begging him to listen to me as I look at him earnestly. “We’ll come up with a plan and it’ll—”
“Backfire somehow, and we’ll all end up dead, even Slayer.”
The frustration on Diego’s face is exactly how I’m feeling inside. I was hoping Barrett would get over his stupid request of making Slayer into a soldier for the club, thinking it would be absurd, but I should’ve known better. He’s been too interested in her from the beginning, and I’m waiting for the day he lets it slip that it was him or Bear who was torturing her in that basement and then I would be justified in shooting him.
I’ll kill them, even if it means a bullet to my brain for it.
For her.
“So you’re saying we should bring her to him instead? What are the options?” Diego looks at me aghast.
“I’ve already said we need to kill him,” I repeat, my words filled with exasperation. For a doctor, he’s not the brightest. The water in the shower turns off and I look down at my jeans, white T-shirt, and leather cut, then do the same to Diego, who’s dressed similarly. “We’re bad boys.Tsk, tsk.We didn’t do as she demanded.”
“Let’s rectify that then,” he concedes, letting our troubles fall away so we can please the woman who owns both our cock and balls.
We remove our cuts and place them over the chairbacks, then make our way into the bedroom. The bathroom butts up to her room, so we can hear her humming as she probably puts that girly cream on her feet and nipples. They’re always so fucking soft.
The blow-dryer flips on, telling us we have a few more minutes until she’s ready. Diego grabs his shirt and hauls it off, revealing his low-cut jeans and pierced nipples. “You need to switch out those bars, you’ve had them for years,” I suggest as I drop my own shirt to the floor.
