Dragon Royal Bastards MC (Tulsa, OK)

I clumsily shuck out of my boxers, eager to feel the skin of my palm on my bare length. My filthy thoughts are still with Dragon in the shower. Sure, I try to remember Nick’s mouth—the way his lips felt around me. Soft and wet and hungry. But each time, I’m imprisoned by the image of Dragon’s green eyes boring into me as he takes me into his throat.

The bed dips with the weight of another person, making me halt my furious stroking. How much time has passed? I pray to fuck it’s Nees or Katana already back from the bar.

Somehow, I know, though.

It’s not.

It’s him.

The fiery heat of him is suffocating me, trapping me in its unyielding hold. I freeze with my hand still wrapped around my throbbing dick. My heart is hammering in my chest as I wait for his attack.

The blanket and sheet get ripped away, exposing me to the monster. A whimper creeps out of me as he slowly tugs away the T-shirt from my face. I squeeze my eyes shut, refusing to look at him. It’s childish, but it’s the only thing I can control at the moment.

I certainly can’t control the way my body yearns for his wicked touch.

Or the way my heart thunders so loud it rattles my bones.

My dick is completely out of my control, leaking with pre-cum and twitching in my grip.

Fingertips dance along my abs, making me suck in a sharp breath. His touch is surprisingly gentle and teasing. I try to remember the way he scared the shit out of me when we were locked in that cage, victims of Night Giant’s ruthless orders.

Victims.

Guilt sluices through me, souring my resolve to hate this man. Copper and Stormy told me everything Dragon went through. His kidnapping as a teenager. Being forced into sexual slavery before adulthood. The mind control Night Giant had over him when Dragon was back in his steely clutches.

“Don’t touch me,” I croak out, my voice weak and sounding unsure.

“You want me to.” Smug. Curious. Matter of fact.

Fuck, I hate him.

My eyes pop open so I can stare into his vicious green eyes because clearly I need reminding of the monster he is. Rather than terrifying me with his stare, I’m sucked into it. Desperate for all that intensity focused on me and me alone. There isn’t murder in his eyes like once before.

There’s uncertainty or maybe even a glimmer of excitement. It sure as hell isn’t anything I’ve ever seen before being reflected back at me.

“You make my dick hard,” he murmurs, awe shining in his eyes. “So hard.”

A mewl crawls out of me. There’s a certain satisfaction in having the unpredictable man’s attention solely on you. It’s like the detonation of a bomb. Everything around me is decimated and destroyed.

My focus is on him.

Wet, dark hair hanging over his brows. Scruffy cheeks. Sharp jawline. Full, kissable lips. The greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. So fucking beautiful.

“I hate you,” I remind him, but the words sound fake even to my own ears.

“Good.”

With lightning quick reflexes, he grabs my wrists, pinning them to the bed as his powerful body slides over mine. The weight of him crushes me against the cheap mattress, the springs digging painfully into my backside. All I can do is swallow down the fear threatening to choke me, my eyes latched onto his.

Begging and pleading.

Please don’t hurt me.

Just like before. I’ve become the prey for this wild predator. Something small and insignificant for him to devour and ruin.

His forehead presses to mine as his breath tickles over me. The grip on my wrists may as well be metal cuffs for how strong it is. Immovable. Unbreakable. Dragon shifts his body so that our cocks are sandwiched between us. All rational thought of escaping his hold fades around me right along with my will to fight him off. Pleasure curls in the pit of my stomach, making my dick throb with need. A quick, teasing thrust of his hips has us both gasping for air.

I want to scream at him to get off me.

To remind him he’s a monster.

Claw and kick and fight and rage.

Instead, I angle my head up, seeking the softness of his lips. His mouth doesn’t move or part to grant me access, so I nip at his bottom lip, the urge to taste him overwhelming. This has a bone-chilling growl rumbling through him that should have me running for the hills.

Rather than run, I bite him again. Harder. With anger infused into the action. A warning. I’m not the prey. I’m not.

His mouth captures mine in what I can only describe as a full attack. A plan to not only explore but to conquer and own. The needy whines escaping me are devoured by his groans. Each time his hips grind against me, I suck in air that tastes like him, desperate to fill my aching lungs with the toxic fog of him.