Zane (Inked Brotherhood 3)

She shrugs, her delicate bones shifting under my lips. “Dragons aren’t for good luck. I know what they stand for in your book.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.” Her shoulders tense. “Survivors get a dragon.”

I freeze and let the pen drop from my hand. “And what did you survive?”

Her shoulders slump, and she bends forward. I follow her movement, grabbing her around the waist.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s over. I’m alive, and I’m perfectly fine, and that’s all that counts.”

I suck in a shaky breath. “Good,” I say and close my eyes for a second.

Yeah, she’s fine. She doesn’t want to tell me what happened to her, but whatever it is, it’s over and done with. I don’t ask again what it was. Call me a coward. Call me chicken-shit. But I can’t handle more pain right now. She’s like sunshine, happy and bright, and she’s all that’s keeping me afloat.

I don’t ask. Instead, I sidetrack her by reaching up under the shirt and cupping her breasts. She trembles, her head falling on my shoulder, and she arches her back, pushing into my hands. My thumbs flick over her nipples, and I muffle my own groan on her neck. My teeth sink in her soft flesh, marking her again, marking her every hour of every day, then lick the spot to soothe it.

Mine.

I pull off the T-shirt, letting it fall to the floor, and trail my hands down, between her legs. Shaved and smooth, slick and beautiful. She moans loudly as I dip a finger inside her. She’s wet and hot and tight, and holy fuck, I can’t wait any longer.

Condom. I have to let go to hunt for the damn thing, and of course, before I know it, she’s twisted around and is crawling on my lap.

“Dakota…” Oh shit.

She unzips my jeans as I tear the foil open and then helps me wiggle out of my clothes. Her hands travel up my chest, tickling my ribs, then flicking the studs in my nipples, almost making me shoot my load. I push her hand away and reach down for my aching cock, but she looks pleased with herself as she leans back, observing my movements.

I roll the condom carefully over the piercings, then grip the base and grit my teeth. I’m so fucking close.

She climbs on my thighs, hands on my chest, lowers herself on my hard-on, and I grip her hips and tug her down. Oh Christ, this is gonna blow my mind away. I’m loud when I’m having serious fun, and I can’t help shouting her name as she pulls me into her hot, tight pussy. God, feels so amazing. Wanna stay in her forever.

Then she starts moving, and it all goes up a notch—the pressure, the heat, the goddamn pleasure that’s wiping my mind clear. I slide my hands around, cupping her ass, taking control of her movement, her rhythm.

She looks down at me, her eyes dazed, and lifts one hand to my face, tracing my lips. The light sensation on my mouth mingles with the pressure in my gut, and the orgasm slams into me like a sledgehammer.

“Dakota,” I bite out her name, and I struggle to keep her still as my balls detonate, and my cock spasms with pleasure so intense it’s almost like pain.

But she keeps moving, moaning and rippling around me, and I come and come, falling back on the couch. “Fuuuck.”

She rocks on top of me, and her pussy contracts. I feel the moment she comes, calling out my name. I steady her, my hands on her waist, then grab her as she bends forward and curls on my chest. My hand feels right on her wild dark hair, the other on her back, tracing circles over her tattoo. Her weight feels perfect on my chest and thighs, her scent twining around me like ivy.

I should be terrified, but right now… Right now, I feel happy.

***

Burning pain. It spreads down my back, spreads inside me, so bad I want to puke. There’s no escape from this hell. There are fingers covering my mouth, digging between my lips, choking me. I try to twist and turn, end the pain, but I’m held in place, on my knees. Tears are running down my cheeks. I can’t escape. I can’t.

‘What are you scared of, boy?’

I think I see Emma’s face, her arms open for me, calling me to her. But I can’t move a single muscle.

Fucking useless.

‘My turn,’ a deep voice says, a voice that sends ice down my spine. ‘My turn now.’

My yell bounces off the walls as I come awake, gasping for breath. I’m lying in my bed, on my back. Alone. I’m alone, I’m conscious of that, but at the same time, I’m not sure. I can still hear the voices, feel the hands, feel the scorching pain, and my stomach finally decides it’s had enough and turns over.

I fall out of bed and stumble into the bathroom just in time. I hug the toilet and toss up my dinner and then some, heaving bitter bile that burns my throat.