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My breath catches when his bloodstained hands skim over my abs but not touching me. The hairs stand on end, begging to be stroked by him. Rather than touch me, he hovers them up toward my pectorals. The metal of my piercings burns as though he’s heating them in a supernatural way.
Because I’m an idiot, I press my ass against his hard dick, simultaneously hating and loving the thrill that rides through me at the thought of having him inside me. He doesn’t touch me, even as I continue to push him back with my body until his back hits the wall behind him. Then I swivel around to face him. His arms drop to his sides and he watches me with a hunger so ravenous it’s dizzying.
Nick was always horny to get his dick sucked, but he never once looked at me like this. Like he wanted to bite every inch of flesh on my body. I crave to be bitten.
To keep from dropping to my knees and worshipping this unhinged beast of a man, I focus on scrubbing away the blood speckles on his face. I’m careful not to meet his stare that’s still flaying me open. My heart is beating double time in my chest as I clean away the evidence of his rage.
He touched you.
His reasoning was so simple. As though it made perfect sense. Like it was his duty to protect me from the wickedness of the world. I haven’t forgotten that only a few short months ago, he was part of that wickedness and had Stormy not intervened, I may not be here to tell the tale. I could have ended up like Wex at Dragon’s vicious hands. But, despite what happened back then, it can’t erase the way he makes me feel right now as he regards me with such intensity and those words are repeated back to me over and over again inside my head.
He touched you.
Once his face is clean, I scrub at his neck, fixated on the way the dragon inked there appears to move and breathe.
“I want to suck your dick,” he murmurs, chasing his words all the way to my neck where he inhales me.
My body turns to stone and I choke out a, “N-No.”
“I didn’t say I was going to. I said I wanted to.”
Because that makes all the sense in the world.
He continues, his words like soft caresses on my skin. “You don’t understand, Baby Prospect. Ever since…” He trails off and then his fingers bite into my jaw hard enough I cry out. Slowly, he brings his face to where it’s peering down at mine, our noses barely touching. “Ever since they took me, I’ve been broken.”
“You’ve had sex,” I blurt out. “Not too broken.”
“With your sister,” he reminds me, his words dead and unfeeling, though lashing at me like a whip.
So I whip back. “And Night Giant.”
Why must I poke the bear? Or the dragon in this case?
I swallow down my unease, steeling my nerves against his intimidating presence. “You didn’t want it, though.”
“Smart kid.”
I bristle at his words. “That day in the cage, with you, I didn’t want it either.”
“I’m not like him.” His words are soft, barely fluttering over me like a feather. “I’m not.”
“You take what you want,” I accuse, the steamy reminder of last night igniting in my balls.
“If I took what I want,” he snaps back, “I’d have your pretty dick in my mouth and this conversation would be over.”
I swallow, trying desperately to get the image of this sinfully hot man on his knees with my cock down his throat. “You should shower,” I choke out. “We have shit to do.”
Fucking isn’t on that agenda, much to my aching dick’s dismay.
Dragon releases his grip on my jaw, his thumb brushing along my cheek. He doesn’t say another word as I step back and gain my bearings. I snatch up my clothes, eager to escape before he starts stripping off his.
Something tells me we’re not done discussing this subject.
And fuck if I’m not looking forward to it.
I have a death wish, that’s for damn sure.
Dragon
We’re outsiders. That’s blatantly obvious in the way everyone glares at us as we make our way inside the bar, Empty Moon. Because Wex got himself killed, we don’t have the access to wherever it is Max Corsetti might be hiding out at. But even though Koyn bitched my ass out on the phone earlier after my shower, I don’t regret it.
The fucker had it coming.
Four stools along the bar vacate as we approach. I’m not keen on leaving my back to these people, but I need a damn drink. I hop onto the first one and Katana slides in beside me. Nees and Cove sit on his other side. Nees, the big mouth of our group, flashes his fake ID and orders a round for the four of us. The bartender doesn’t seem perturbed that Nees and Cove look like a couple of kids as he pours out some shots of tequila. I slam mine back, relishing the burn in my throat, before shoving the glass back toward the bartender for more. I’ve downed three before I begin to loosen up.
