Page 26 of Drawn by Dragonblood (Blood Born #1)

Jonathan

E lijah’s and my gaze met over my wife’s back. I felt sexually sated for the time being but hardly satisfied.

Longing for so much more knifed at my chest, making me want to lean into him and kiss his soft-as-fuck lips. Inhale the sweetness of his breath and give over to the firmness of his grasp and the command of his voice that almost had me nutting before burying balls deep in my wife.

His eyes mirrored the desire in my head—in my fucking soul.

One taste, and he had me by the fucking balls. Fucking owned me in a way Dakota never could.

Still buried in my wife’s body, I pulled her back against my chest, smoothing her hair away from her face. The love of my life, my person, my better half…

How could it be Elijah had taken a piece of me—without even taking me ?

Unease slithered down my spine, but I couldn’t pinpoint why.

Past trauma?

Emotional damage from childhood?

Whatever the fuck supernatural desire to kneel before another man coursed through me should have at least left me unsettled with my suddenly changed sexuality.

My dick preference in the moment, I didn’t give a shit about.

It was the making myself vulnerable by submitting that worried me, considering how I’d been manipulated by the foster fucker who’d raised me.

With Elijah, I’d offered myself as a gift. I’d been the catalyst again to span the distance between him and Dakota, and strangely, that truth gave me a sense of purpose.

My dick still rested inside my wife’s warmth, and I had zero desire to shift her off my semi and end the moment among the three of us even though Elijah was no longer physically connected.

I could still feel his touch as though he’d burned marks on my skin.

I ran my hands over Dakota’s stomach, loving the softness beneath my fingertips and how Elijah’s gaze tracked the movement with a different type of longing in his pale eyes.

My heart ached for him even though I had no fucking clue why.

Lifting Dakota off my dick sent a rush of cum down over my balls, but I shuffled forward on my knees, placing her on Elijah’s lap.

“I’ll get something to clean us up,” I said, standing on shaking legs. I made it to the kitchen sink without glancing back.

Thank fuck for thirsty paper towels. Dakota—or I—had made a hell of a mess. She’d never come so hard around me in all our years of fucking, and her second climax right on the heels of the first had sent another rush of liquid to drip down my balls.

“Damn.” I tossed the used towels in the trash and grabbed a few more handfuls before turning.

Elijah cradled Dakota to his chest, his eyes closed, lips pressed against her hair. One hand soothed down her arm, the other wrapped around her legs, clutching her close in a possessive hold that didn’t inspire jealousy like it should have.

That damn ache knifed again, and if it weren’t for my handfuls of paper towels, I would have scratched my chest in attempts to lessen the weird as fuck pain that didn’t actually hurt in a physical sense.

He cradled her while I knelt in front of them and cleaned between her thighs.

Her shuddering sighs while resting against Elijah’s chest, eyes closed, furrowed his brow and stirred some sort of weird satisfaction in me.

Both of us cared for my wife, and the connection I felt for the two of them—I didn’t have fucking words as I watched him look at her as though she was the spring sun that chased winter away.

I understood the sentiment. Fucking experienced it in every cell of my body.

She was an addiction, and the need for more of her could never be sated.

And I didn’t blame Elijah for experiencing her sweetness and yearning for another dose along with me.

Would do it again should either of them hint at wanting more.

Elijah finally looked me full in the face, and for the first time since meeting the man, he allowed me to see him in ways I had yet to offer to him.

Complete vulnerability. Desire. Grief.

He gifted me a glimpse into a soul tortured by shit I couldn’t begin to imagine, but contentment and thankfulness oozed from his eyes as well. My sense of satisfaction over my role in helping him and my wife find theirs intensified.

I’d given him that when I had a feeling he could have pushed for shared release without a fight from either of us. Hell, he could have commanded it, and Dakota and I would have given until we bled dry, no fucking doubt.

Another shiver of unease tingled my spine, but rather than be truthful of my feelings, I flashed my dimples at him.

“You’re welcome,” I stated with a wink and enough snark one of his eyebrows raised. A shudder ripped through me, making my cock twitch with interest.

Elijah shot out his hand and grasped my neck, his palm hot and branding.

I stilled, breath held, the moment intense as fuck, energy rippling between us like tinder smoldering, ready to ignite with a flash.

He didn’t speak a word, but promise rested in his stare.

For what, I wasn’t sure, but fuck, did I lust to find out.

Later. After my wife rested.

Somehow, I managed to deny his dominant hold on my soul, tearing my focus off his searching gaze, that sense he peered straight into my head and knew every thought brewing there.

“Come on.” I pushed up to my feet, refusing to give him my eyes again like that newly awoken submissive part of me desired to. “You can carry her upstairs since your tree trunk thighs can’t be goddamned Jell-O like mine, and she’s complete toast.”

He actually chuckled, and I led the way, feeling like the fucking king of Elijah’s cave-like castle.

Elijah laid Dakota on our bed and stepped back while watching her curl on her side, eyes still closed, a smile on her lips. Emotion warred on his face as he looked down at her.

Had he fallen under her spell already? Gifted her his heart on a platter? Fuck knew that was easy as shit to do, since she was so goddamn perfect.

A heavy sigh sank his chest in as though resigned, a battle inside having been won.

He turned away without a word when I’d expected him to ask if he could stay.

Or demanded it.

I opened my mouth to call him back but hesitated from inviting him into our bed. Allowing Elijah to become a part of our lives outside of fucking, for however long, would be hinting at wanting something long-term. Definitely messing with fire.

I locked the door behind Elijah and slid under the covers to spoon Dakota’s backside.

“He’s gone?” she whispered.

“Yes.” I kissed her shoulder and wrapped my arms around her.

“I-I wasn’t sure what to say or do afterward and felt…I don’t know.”

I nuzzled my face against her hair, relieved the bind on my tongue had faded. “Do you regret what we did?”

“No.” She didn’t hesitate to answer, thank fuck. Another sigh rippled over her, and she settled in my hold. “Want to do it again.”

“Same,” I murmured against her hair, every cell in my body agreeing.

So many damn emotions and thoughts flooded through me, and even though I felt sure I could finally find the words we needed to share, I didn’t have the balls or energy to further discuss what had taken place on Elijah’s couch.

Pretending it hadn’t happened wouldn’t work—I definitely still wanted Elijah’s hands and mouth on me.

Initiating anything further wouldn’t be the best way to?—

Ah, fuck.

—start my new job.

I slammed my eyelids shut at the thought that should have been forefront in my mind before making a decision to fuck around with Elijah.

I’d let my soon-to-be boss taste my wife. Possibly lose his heart to hers. At the least, his body already craved his newest addiction.

Goddamn it all to hell.

I’d been offered the opportunity to make money to support the love of my life again.

Had I thoroughly fucked shit up?