Page 39 of Drawn by Dragonblood (Blood Born #1)
Jonathan
M y dick had been stiff for what felt like hours, long enough my balls ached and I almost wished the magical need to fuck would stop working for a day or two. That part of my body had no issue with Elijah leaving us behind, but my chest sure as hell did.
A different sort of pain knifed at my heart, digging into my breastbone and becoming too damn uncomfortable as Dakota and I climbed the stairs to our second-floor apartment.
We’d made sure our car had been returned home from the trailhead by a couple of Elijah’s employees as he’d informed us earlier. One less thing to worry about.
The stairwell smelled like trash and stale cigarettes, the roof overhead seeming to push down atop us, smothering the happiness I’d been swimming in for hours on end.
That newfound purpose I’d been contemplating by being the catalyst that had begun to fulfill my wife’s fantasies faded into the recesses of my mind as shit from pre-Elijah trickled back in with every step up the stairs.
And walking through the creaky, flimsy-as-fuck door that led to the place we called home?
Our apartment was small and could easily fit inside Elijah’s living space in the main area of his cavern-like home.
Thinking of what we’d left behind in the mountains, the comfort he easily afforded in spoiling my wife when I’d been able to give her nothing but this shithole, turned my thoughts dark.
Old insecurities came rushing in, hitting me from all sides as my foster father had done.
Add in my desire to submit sexually to Elijah, and I started to question if I was even a real man.
I couldn’t fucking provide for my wife. Got hard for another dude.
Salivated to crawl for him and kiss his feet for fuck’s sake.
A muscle ticked in my jaw.
I hated New York.
Our apartment and everything it stood for and reminded me of.
But one good thing, the only good thing in my life, remained the same.
Dakota stood before me, and what a view she gifted my suddenly needy heart.
I wanted nothing more than to rip the damn backpack off her shoulders, slam her against the wall, and bury myself so damn deep in her pussy that nothing else mattered. Where we were, how the past attempted to tear me down, and the fact a piece of me felt like it was missing.
Desperation tensed my body tight, and I couldn’t help myself. I dropped my bag and spun my wife around, attacking her mouth, my hands palming her ass and lifting her against my throbbing cock.
“Need you,” I growled against her lips, gyrating my hips and showing her exactly how much.
She clawed at my shirt, sweeping her hands up over my pecs to dig her nails into my shoulders with intense hunger I’d never tasted on her tongue before.
“Fuck.” I peeled her off me and ripped at my shirt, staring and salivating as she kicked off a sneaker and pushed down her pants, hopping to get one foot cleared.
Jeans around my knees, I grabbed her again, uncaring that her pants hung off her other leg, trapped by the second sneaker still on her foot. One thrust seated me balls deep in her sopping pussy, and I groaned a few curses while pressing her against the wall and burying my face in her neck.
This was comfort. Dakota was my home.
My lungs sucked in oxygen freely for what felt the first time in hours rather than agonizing minutes, and I buried my face in her hair, frantic for release both physically and mentally.
But an ache remained in my chest, no matter how deeply I burrowed or how harshly I impaled her lush body.
“Fuck, I wish he was here,” I said, pumping into her, my hips thrusting in abandon.
“Yes,” Dakota whimpered, her hands ripping at my hair, as I tunneled into her over and over. “Oh, God, yes…need him. Miss him.”
I licked along her neck, grunting and groaning, trying to split her body in half with my aching cock as visions of Elijah’s intense gaze seared my brain.
“Want his hands on me,” I gasped. “On you.”
I swear to fucking God the scent of him filled my nose, and Dakota cried out, her nails in my scalp, pussy clenching down on me hard enough stars exploded behind my eyes as my balls let loose.
Each spurt up through my shaft sent a shudder through my spine, caused a groan to rumble in my chest, and I clenched my jaw to keep from biting my wife’s soft flesh.
“Goddamn!” I growled between my teeth as the last pulse of my cock broke my body into goose bumps. Buried deep, I stilled, sucking wind with my mouth plastered to Dakota’s neck. “Holy fuck, that was intense.”
“Mmm.” Dakota’s hold on my head loosened, and she ran her fingers through my too-long hair. “We’re both sex-crazed lunatics.” She giggled, and I squeezed her plump ass cheeks, trying to push my semi deeper into her warmth.
We’d always been insatiable for each other but not with such intensity.
“That man has turned us into fucking nymphos,” I muttered, her soft skin caressing my lips as they moved to form the words.
Dakota pulled my face away from her neck, her eyes still hazed by passion. “Do you think...” She bit her lip, a frown marring her brow. “I mean, this can’t be healthy. This level of desire—it’s constant.”
“I don’t know what the fuck it is.” I peered into her eyes, praying she could read the truth in my words. “It goes beyond the lust and fucking, baby. It’s like...”
“Like falling in love all over again?” she whispered, tears filling her eyes.
I blew a breath between my lips and held her gaze, knowing I could tell her anything— anything —and she would still love me.
“Yes, but it’s almost more. It’s like he owns a part of me or something.
I wish I didn’t feel guilty about it, but I do.
And this place?” I couldn’t even bear to look around and be slammed again with memories of my shortcomings. “It’s not home, Dakota. Feels…wrong.”
Dakota sucked her lower lip between her teeth and nodded, a tear sliding down her cheek. “Same.”
I kissed the wetness from her satiny skin, slightly relieved to know we faced the same emotional turmoil even though it killed me she suffered in the same way I did.
We’d done everything together. Falling in love with someone else should be as unsettling as it was regardless of how right inviting Elijah into our marriage seemed. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I’m scared, Jon. Afraid something is going to go wrong. That you’ll be heartbroken. Angry with me.”
I kissed her lips, gentle and slow, tasting the sweetness of her stuttered exhale. “Not gonna happen this time around, baby.”
“But what if it does?”
I refused to let her think that way even though I felt insecure as fuck too.
“Then we face it together like always, but it’ll be three of us.
There’s safety in numbers, baby. One step forward a day, and we talk shit out at the first hint of something not sitting right with either of us.
Honesty and openness is going to be key to seeing us through this. ”
She heaved a sigh and rested her body against mine as I tried to believe my own words.
“I know in my heart that we’re meant to be together, but what if he tires of us and sends us away?”
My mind blanked at the thought. Fucking emptied, creating a gaping hole in my chest that hurt worse than anything I’d experienced before. All I could do was hold my wife tighter, my arms and lips offering the assurance my mind couldn’t voice—or believe.
An hour later, we sat in the limo, hands clasped as the driver took us into Lower Manhattan.
The traffic, the buildings rising high overhead, smothered me in a way they never had before.
All I could think about was returning to the mountains, the peaceful quietness of Elijah’s cavern the next day where his energy soothed even while making me horny as fuck.
Dakota and I had been desperate to get the hell out of our apartment.
I’d tossed my shit into two duffle bags and had been ready to jet within twenty minutes, but she took more time to gather her photography things and laptop after emailing the contracted images to North Wood Living.
My skin itched with the need to be gone and get back to Elijah’s side.
The limo slowed, and I glanced out the window.
The building housing Tolzman Industries disappeared into the sky above us, and although I expected I’d be spending a lot of time there for work in the future, the ruckus, the city scents assaulting my nose, caused a frown to dent my brow.
Even the promise of soon seeing the dude I couldn’t get enough of didn’t ease my scowl.
A receptionist showed us into Elijah’s office fifteen minutes later.
He still sat in his meeting, but the scent of him, the peacefulness of his spirit, filled the empty room.
The second the door clicked shut behind his receptionist, I breathed a heavy sigh, most of the tension that had been riding me since he’d dropped us off at our apartment fading.
“I want to go back,” Dakota grumbled, wrapping her arms around herself. “I—I mean to Elijah’s. It’s quieter.”
“Peaceful,” I said, falling into one of the chairs in front of his desk.
“I don’t remember hating the city this much,” she said, starting to sit beside me.
I grabbed her waist and pulled her onto my lap instead, tucking her against me where she fit so perfectly. “Same.”
“Really?” She snorted a laugh. “I thought you enjoyed the hustle and bustle.”
“I did.” Frowning again, I glanced around Elijah’s spacious office.
It sat tidy same as everything else about the man.
Bookshelves, computers, pieces of art that must cost a fortune created a very Elijah-like room.
“Where’s the classical music?” I wondered, noting the overhead speakers—and cameras—and actually missing the stringed instruments he loved to listen to. “Sybil, music,” I commanded.
A quiet piece, slow and boring as shit, filtered through the speakers, and I almost smiled as another part of my insides settled.
Dakota let out a snicker and melted against me. “Love you.”