Page 9 of Drawn by Dragonblood (Blood Born #1)

Jonathan

“ S o, your ancestors were dragon shifters?” Dakota asked with a dreamy sigh.

“I’ll bet he farts glitter and shits rainbows too,” I said with a laugh while tugging on a few strands of her hair to keep her brain rooted in reality.

She glared at me and playfully swatted at my hand. “I happen to enjoy having my head in the clouds, thank you very much.”

“I know, and I wouldn’t have you any other way,” I murmured, leaning in to brush my lips over hers.

Our gazes remained locked, our smiles fixed in place as I rested my forehead on hers.

We’d had one hell of an explosive fuck in Elijah’s bathroom.

I’d taken her up against the door, both of us still mostly clothed.

We’d been desperate for release, a shared hunger that flared brighter than we’d ever experienced.

Her sweet pussy had welcomed me with slickness and heat, a silken glove to milk my dick and drain my balls dry. I’d come so goddamn hard my legs went weak, but I’d managed to get her limp body into the shower and washed from hair to toes.

We didn’t say more than two words to each other and only out of necessity. It was like my tongue was tied up in knots or some shit. Maybe a spell had fallen over us when we’d walked into Elijah’s strange home. One meant to bind our thoughts, hearts, and goddamned bodies.

Couldn’t deny that final idea kept my blood hot and sac heavy.

After showering in near silence, we’d dressed when I’d rather have gone naked. Everything about Elijah’s home felt so fucking…natural. Right. Like we’d been meant to enter his kick-ass cave that comforted like a warm blanket on a cold night.

Elijah moved into the kitchen with our empty mugs. He’d never acknowledged Dakota’s question about being a descendent of the Blood Born, ridiculous as it was.

I sat back, my gaze trailing after him. The carefully combed hair, the wide shoulders, and ripple of muscle across his back beneath his tight T-shirt tempted every cell in my straight body.

Was it any wonder Dakota lusted after the man?

Add in the tale about dragons and fated love, and he could be my wife’s fairytale come true.

I chuckled to myself, wondering yet again why my insides didn’t rage with possessiveness. If Elijah wished to get into my wife’s pants, he knew exactly how to go about getting there. Not that she would give in to him.

I forced my focus back on the woman beside me and ran my hand down her arm as she leaned against me with another sigh.

I wanted to pry, to ask what she thought of him, if she felt the need to take pictures of him to tuck away and ponder over, but again with the damned inability to voice the question.

“Tired?” I asked instead, not ready to discuss whatever the hell was making me reconsider more than I thought possible.

“You wore me out,” she said, keeping her voice low.

My cock twitched at the memory of how she’d come around my cock like my rigid length had some magical touch that stroked more than her g-spot. Her cries had seemed louder than usual, the contractions of her pussy around my aching shaft pulsing with an intensity I couldn’t remember feeling before.

Did the thought of Elijah do that to her?

Was the fantasy of him while taking my dick able to turn her on more than I did?

Was she growing bored with the same old, same old of hopping in the sack with me?

Was I becoming only the man who hadn’t been able to fulfill her desire for babies before I’d lost the ability to properly provide for just the two of us?

I’d only been plagued once by a lack of confidence in my relationship with Dakota, and I wasn’t sure how to handle the emotion the questions roused.

Sure, I had a shit ton of insecurities about other stuff from my childhood, but my relationship with her hadn’t ever truly been tested before.

Not even that one strange guy all those years ago we’d ended up fighting about.

He’d been nothing but a blip on our radar that had caused problems because we hadn’t known how to communicate back then. Now, we did—but something hindered me from sharing jack shit.

Dakota rested her hand flat against my chest above my heart as though staking her claim. “Love you,” she murmured, nuzzling her cheek against my shoulder.

“Love you more,” I whispered my usual response, wondering if I really did speak the truth rather than tease like usual.

Elijah’s story rang deep inside of me though, in places I’d long forgotten about.

The child in me who had always dreamed of dragons, of the imaginary friend who soared the skies, keeping watch over me in my loneliness.

Flickered images of that midnight-colored dragon had come to mind as Elijah’s deep voice and his tale had rolled over me.

Either I’d become so fucking hot for our host that I started imagining things, or I swore the man’s eyes matched the memory of my imaginary friend.

I’d never wanted to kneel before the dragon who’d kept me company throughout childhood and even into my adult dreams on occasion, but Elijah?

Shifting on the couch didn’t help my swelling cock. I’d never imagined myself to be a kinky fuck, but my body sure as shit wanted that man to string me up and consume every part of me. Even my skin itched to feel the scrape of his teeth, the bruising of his fingertips.

“Are you okay?” Dakota asked without moving.

Sure she sensed the increasing tension inside of me, I heaved a breath and rubbed her arm again, trying to chill the fuck out and relax. “Yeah.”

“Want to go take a nap?”

I smirked down at my wife, but my gaze strayed to Elijah who stood at the sink, his back to us. A nap equaled a little lovin’ in Dakota’s language. Maybe making love to her rather than fucking her like a goddamn animal would lessen whatever the hell the strangeness inside me longed for.

I opened my mouth to whisper a question about how rude it would be to skip out on Elijah, but he cleared his throat, drawing my gaze.

Dakota’s head lifted from my shoulder. The sexual pull reached across the cave, tripping up my heartbeat and making the air too thick with tension to inhale a full breath.

That reel he had me on—fucking hell, I wanted to swallow down whatever had gotten me hooked.

“Please make yourselves at home,” he said, his voice soft yet easily heard. “There’s food and beer in the refrigerator and a wine cellar downstairs.” He shifted his pale gaze to Dakota. “If you’d rather, rest for a while. I’ve got some work that needs my attention.”

“Thanks,” I said as Dakota murmured the same.

With a dip of his head, he turned, disappearing behind a door beneath the stairs that led to the second floor.

I imagined him heading down to a dungeon, complete with whips and chains. Ball gags and cock rings.

My skin burned to be touched. Tortured. Devoured.

The fuck?

Biting back my groan over shit I’d never actually considered before, I pushed off the couch. “How about that nap?” I said, pulling Dakota up to her feet.

Her nipples and pebbled skin betrayed her.

So why didn’t I feel betrayed?

An hour later, somewhat sated and wide awake, I stared at the rock ceiling above the massive bed we sprawled over.

The rain had stopped, and streaks of afternoon sunlight cut across the sky outside the lone window.

Dakota slept beside me, her light snores barely heard through the tangled thoughts in my head. I’d worn her ass out.

And hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Elijah while enjoying all she’d offered.

My dick swelled at the image of the damned man in my head, overshadowing the guilt nagging at my stomach. Imagining cheating was the same as doing it, wasn’t it?

Jaw clenched, I climbed out of bed and pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. Maybe a couple of beers would take off whatever edge I rode.

Barefoot, I slipped into the hallway. Silence lay heavy over the cave, but the lights welcoming me with every step and fading behind me strangely gave me that sense of home again I’d never experienced before stepping into Elijah’s domain.

I should have been unsettled thanks to the truth of my upbringing where I had never belonged.

Elijah was a mere stranger with an odd living space in the middle of nowhere.

So why did my soul rest and freedom from the hardships of real life wrap around me with every breath filling my lungs?

Even the continued sexual tension riding me didn’t threaten that sense of serenity.

The quiet, main living area opened up before me, and I wound my way down the stairs into the kitchen with no answers whispering in my head.

As promised, cold beer sat in the fridge. The chilled bottle against my palm cooled my hand but not the heat Elijah had stirred to life inside me upon first entering our camp.

Had it only been that morning?

I twisted the cap off and glanced at the door he’d earlier disappeared through while chugging down a few swallows.

Should I find him and figure out what the fuck was going on or ignore the tension and light out with the sunrise like Dakota and I had agreed to do, leaving Elijah Tolzman and his hotter than hell everything behind? Not used to dealing with temptation, I didn’t know what the fuck to do.

I stared at the door and finished off my beer, some sort of energy rippling over my skin and pulling me into the bowels of his cave castle. My feet moved as though on their own, and I slipped behind the door beneath the stairs.

It was the damned fishing line he had me on, I swear to fucking god.

A staircase led down into the dark, but the second I stepped onto the first tread, lights shimmered into existence overhead.

Similar to the stairway to the second floor, some rock had been cut for more headspace.

Another cavern opened at the bottom, smaller than the living area above with two doors on either side.

The hallway continued on ahead, but I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and listened.