Chapter 41 #2
“You’re really going to keep blaming Scar?”
“I’m not blaming Scar. I’m telling you what happened.”
“In that case, I’m not sure I can be your rider.” The words come out before I can stop them, but once they’re out, I realize I mean them. I shake my head. “In fact, I don’t want to be your rider.” My throat is clogging. “This isn’t going to work. I’ve tried. I really have, but—”
“What are you talking about?” he asks, frowning. “Don’t say that.”
“I’ve told you several times now that I need you to talk to me.
That I need communication, but you keep ignoring that very basic request. You keep ignoring me.
” I gesture helplessly between us. “I don’t want to hear about Scar, because you were doing it before he gave you that order.
” My eyes are pricking. I’m working hard not to cry.
He pulls in a deep breath, his chest expanding. “I’ll do better.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Why not?” He takes a step closer, invading my space. “I swear I’ll do better. Please don’t go.”
“I’m going to put in a request to stop with training.
” My throat tightens around the words. I know there’s more to this.
Something he isn’t telling me. He continues to hold back, even now.
“I’m sorry, Drake. I know it will impact your career, but I feel like I have no choice.
You are leaving me with no choice here.”
“I was jealous, okay?” The words erupt from him like he’s been holding them in. “I couldn’t stand how that asshole was looking at you. Then he touched you. Started flirting, and I wanted to hurt him. I needed to hurt him. I wanted to tear his head from his shoulders.”
My mouth falls open.
“I’ve been keeping my distance because I need these feelings to go away, Harlow.” His voice drops. “I like you, Harlow. My dragon fucking loves you. Do you know that he wanted me to bite you during sex?”
My brain stutters. “Why would he want that?”
He laughs, but it’s bitter. “It’s mating behavior, Harlow.
We may not know each other very well. I may not have known you all that long, but I’m falling for you.
I’m falling long, hard, and fast, and I can’t seem to stop.
” He pushes out a breath through his nose.
“You’re driving me nuts. I want to fuck you.
I want to hold you. I want to sleep with you in my arms. I want to get to know you…
everything that there is to know. Even the things that no one else knows.
Especially those things. The good, the bad, the ugly… all of it.”
My eyes widen. I make a small sound of disbelief, something between a gasp and a whimper.
“Do you see that door over there?” He points at the door to his office, the one I barged through minutes ago. “You should go. You should fucking run, Harlow. You should file for permission to leave this island, to leave me, because I—”
I reach up and kiss him.
I’m not sure if it’s sheer relief that he doesn’t hate me, or whether it’s because he just said all of those things to me. Those words. They built me and broke me. They finished me.
He kisses me back. It’s hot. It’s hungry. It’s everything.
His hands come up to cup my face, angling my head so he can deepen the kiss. His tongue slides against mine, and I moan into his mouth. My fingers find his hair, tangling in the strands. His groan matches mine.
We’re all hands and mouths and desperate touches. I arch into him. My hands roam over his shoulders, his back.
I reach between us and rub his hard cock through the leather of his pants. He groans like it pains him, his hips bucking into my touch.
“We shouldn’t,” he whispers.
“I know.” I palm his cock again, as best I can through the leather.
He hisses.
Then his hands are at the waistband of my sweatpants. He hooks his thumbs into both my pants and underwear, yanking them down in one swift motion. I kick off one shoe frantically, but my clothes snag around my other ankle, twisted and awkward.
I don’t care.
He’s already unzipping himself with one hand while lifting me onto his desk with the other. Papers scatter, a pen clatters to the floor. He shoves his pants down to mid-thigh, and then his hands are on me, pulling me to the edge of the desk.
I wrap my legs around him, pulling him closer. He grips one of my thighs, positioning himself, and then he’s entering me with one solid thrust that steals the breath from my lungs.
We both cry out.
I’m wet. I’m ready. So damned ready.
“Shhhh.” His voice is rough.
I nod.
Then he starts moving, fucking me with hard, pushy thrusts that take my breath away.
It feels so good. So right.
He kisses me, swallowing the noises I can’t help but make. His tongue tangles with mine, claiming my mouth the same way he’s claiming my body.
His door is closed but unlocked.
Charlotte is right outside.
I’ve never been so acutely aware of anything in my life. The knowledge sends a thrill through me that it shouldn’t. Someone could catch us. Someone could hear us. We shouldn’t be doing this.
His eyes are open. So are mine.
We stare at each other as he moves, as he fills me again and again. Our breathing is heavy and mingled, coming in harsh pants between rough kisses.
The desk moves every now and then, scraping slightly against the floor. More paperwork slides off the edge, fluttering to the ground like snow. I hear the wet sound of my pussy taking him, slick and obscene in the quiet office.
I love it.
I love all of it.
Apparently, there is something wrong with me, because this kind of thing gets me off. He gets me off.
Drake groans, the sound vibrating through his chest into mine. I whimper, trying to stay quiet and failing. His hand slides up my back, fisting in my ponytail, tugging just hard enough to make me gasp as I arch back, opening up more for him. Taking more of him.
Yes.
We spiral closer and closer, the pleasure building with each thrust. I can feel it coiling tight in my belly, spreading outward like fire. My inner walls clench around him, and he makes this desperate sound in the back of his throat.
“Harlow,” he breathes against my lips, and the way he says my name nearly undoes me.
I dig my fingers into his shoulders, holding on as he drives into me harder, faster. The desk creaks beneath us. Something else falls, but I don’t care. All I can focus on is the feeling of him inside me, the way his body moves against mine.
I’m close. So close.
He must sense it because his thrusts become more erratic, more desperate. His hand slides between us, finding where we’re joined, and then his thumb is on my clit, circling in tight, perfect movements. Then he lets go, and it’s enough to send me flying.
I start to cry out, so he clamps a hand over my mouth.
The action makes me come even harder.
My orgasm crashes over me in waves, my body clenching rhythmically around him. I moan against his palm, my eyes rolling back as pleasure floods every nerve ending.
He follows me over the edge with a low rumble. His hips stutter, pressing deep as he comes inside me. His hand stays over my mouth as we ride out our climaxes together. I feel him pulsing inside me, filling me, and it sends another aftershock of pure pleasure through my body.
We slowly come down together, our breathing harsh and uneven.
He slows, rocking into me, drawing out my pleasure.
My eyes are wide and on his. Then he takes his hand away and kisses me with almost as much hunger as at the start.
Only deeper. Filled with something that feels like longing. It causes an ache inside my chest.
He puts his forehead against mine when he stops kissing me, when he stops moving. He’s still inside me, and neither of us seems in a hurry to change that.
We’re still breathing hard. Together.
Finally, he pulls out. I feel the loss immediately, already missing the connection. I also remember where we are. The situation we’re in.
“Shit,” I whisper. “I had better go,” I say quietly, sliding off his desk. “Or Charlotte will suspect. I’ve been in here too long. Did we make a noise?”
“A little.”
“More than just a little. We did. I’m sure of it.” There’s paperwork, files, pens, and a stapler littered on the floor all around his desk.
Crap.
His desk is about three feet to the right of where it was before.
Double crap.
“It should be okay, but you’re right. You should go,” he says as he tucks his still-hard cock away, positioning himself and zipping his leather pants.
I pull up my underwear and sweatpants, stuffing my foot back into my discarded sneaker.
“I’ll make sure that no one finds out.” I pick up the swimsuit Charlotte gave me from where it fell on the floor. “I’ll shower as soon as I get back to my bungalow. Use plenty of soap. Keep my mouth shut. You don’t need to worry.”
He nods. “I’ll see you later. We need to talk about this.”
“Do we?” I ask stupidly.
“Yes.”
“Okay…you’re right. That would be…um…good.”
I give him one last look, then turn and walk out of his office, closing the door behind me.
Charlotte looks up from her desk, her expression curious. “Everything okay?”
“Great. Thanks,” I say over my shoulder as I hightail it out of there, praying I don’t run into anyone.
I’m already second-guessing everything. Was all of that an act to keep me on the island? To make sure I didn’t file to leave the island. I don’t think so. It didn’t feel like it. His words felt real.
But even if he meant every word, how would it help us? It’s not like we can ever be together.
Nothing has really changed, and yet everything has changed.
I only pray he doesn’t run and hide.
That he doesn’t ignore me…us…this. I doubt he’ll come to see me tonight. He probably shouldn’t.
The water has turned from muddy into quicksand, and I’m drowning.