Page 73 of Dravin

“Or…” His head falls back and he’s clearly struggling to think of something, especially as I close my hand over the hard bulge in his underwear. “God!”

He makes a noise in his throat, which only gets louder and more feral as I pull down his boxers, take his cock out, press my boobs together with one hand and guide him to them with the other. I don’t have enough cleavage to successfully do this, but it is what it is. He clearly gets the idea and by the way his breathing picks up and his pulse slams at his throat, he’s obviously enjoying the sensation. He’s not the only one. I rub his sensitive head over my nipples, pressing hard to cause myself little bursts of pain that ripple out as pleasure, landing like lightning bolts between my legs.

I keep going until he’s soaked me, until my chest is tight with trails of precum.

I let go of his cock, grasp his t-shirt with both hands, and shred it, yanking hard on it over and over again until the tear reaches the neckline.

“Give it to me.” I’m the bossy one now.

He grasps the back and pulls it over his head, tossing it at me. “You could have asked before you destructed it. I just got this room, and I don’t have any clothes here. I’m going to have to ride home shirtless.”

“I’m sure someone will let you borrow one of theirs.” I toss the shirt on over my head, taking the ripped ends and tying them tight together. “Wait. Did you just say ride?”

Dravin only has one bike, although he never thought of it as his. He gave it to Dominic.

“I may have bought something.”

“What? When? Why did you not tell me?”

“Because then you would have wanted to go for a ride.”

“It has two seats?”

He nods, watching me carefully. A few weeks ago, I never could have seen myself getting on a bike. Even the sound of one triggered awful things for me, as if the machines themselves were responsible for the horrible deeds of bad men.

I smack his bare shoulder. “Of course I’d want to go for a ride. What’s wrong with that?”

“When you get on the back of a bike like that, behind a man like me who is prospecting for a club, it means something.”

“What? That I’m your woman?”

He pauses. “Yes,” he admits.

“Asshole,” I mutter, grasping his jeans and forcing them down. “You know very well I wouldn’t have said no. We’re not even fighting about this anymore. It’s a finished discussion. If you don’t put me on the back of that bike the very next time you take it out, I’ll hijack it, and when you come after me and try to take it back, I’ll shove you onto that seat and claimyoufor the whole world to see and I’ll do it loud and motherfucking goddamn proud.”

I scramble off the bed and help him get out of his boots and jeans. I tug his boxers down, but when I go to palm his cock, he snaps his fingers and points at the bed, looking all grim and silent and deadly.

My pussy pulses, my walls clenching in on themselves at the terrible beauty and power he exudes. I know he’s not actually angry, since I can still practically see him trying to hold back a smile, but that surly black stare down gives me chills.

“I adore you, Kael…” There. He said it. I almost grin in triumph, especially as his gaze lingers over me in his t-shirt. I know how much he loves to see me wearing his clothes. “But if you think I’d ever ride on the bitch seat of my own bike…”

He would. If that’s what it took to prove something to me, or if I asked him to in all seriousness, he would do it in a heartbeat. He’d do anything for me without asking a single question, without even so much as pausing. This man put his whole life on hold and then he found this place for us to start over again. He knew what I needed long before I ever did, and even if it appeared like we were descending into hell, we were safe the whole time because he’d never force me to endure something that I couldn’t.

He sees my strength. My pain. When he looks at me, his gaze cuts straight down to my soul. If he truly was Hades—my Hades, who cloaks himself in black and shadows but underneath has the most beautiful, tarnished soul, I’d stay with him for an eternity, no matter what kind of world we had to live in.

He points to the bed, jaw clenched like steel. “Face the headboard. Ass in the air. Part your legs. I want to see every bit of your swollen pussy as I sink into you.”

I’ve never gotten onto anything, or into position, so fast in my life. I spread my hands out on the bed and rest my cheek on them, canting my hips up in the air, my knees far apart, spreading myself lewdly for him. Old me could never have seenmyself following orders and thinking it was hot, and certainly I would never have allowed anyone to see me in a position like this, but the woman I am now would arrange herself into any position. If Dravin told me to hang from the ceiling by my hair while doing the splits, I would damn well do it.

I might be physically strong, and I’ve tried to keep up with my training on my own, but I’ve never been overly flexible. I’d still find a way to do it or wreck myself trying.

I gasp when his hands close over my thighs. Instead of wrenching them apart, he delivers two sharp smacks to the insides.

I crank my head around, but the sharp retort dies on my tongue when I see his thick, engorged cock bobbing in the air in front of him, glistening at the tip.

He strokes himself leisurely and then starts whistling.

Whistling.

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