Aubrey Wright

After wishing I hadn’t emailed the detective, I got up and showered. Hot water streamed down my body, and I couldn’t help thinking about having someone else wash me. I couldn’t figure out which guy to imagine, so I pictured each of them taking turns with my breasts, my ass, between my legs…

It was stupid. It was the alcohol. This wasn’t me.

Maybe this was a defense mechanism of some kind, that I was projecting the need to have not one but three hot guys on my side. Francesco had literally saved my life. Damon’s blood had healed me. Miguel would’ve done the same if he had the chance. I was certain he would. It was amazing to take in.

It was terrifying too.

By now, I had been in the shower so long that the water was tepid at best. I finished washing up and shampooing and conditioning my hair as quickly as I could. Then, I toweled off and put on panties. Fatigue washed over me so entirely that I didn’t even bother to put on pajamas. I just lay down and went to sleep.

Immediately, Damon was there. Damon King with his smoldering gaze, his set jaw, muscular physique…

How he got into my bed I had no idea, but I snuggled against him. His heart pounded against my ear, the beat strong and solid, maybe a little slower than normal. His embrace was so warm, heating me up. His hands wandered over my back, rubbing me, caressing me, and I remembered I was naked.

It was only then that I realized Damon was too, as I shifted my leg up higher and brushed against something that most definitely wasn’t one of his legs.

Startled, I pulled away slightly. His hand cupped my face and traced down my nose, along my jaw, and then around my lips.

“You are mine,” he whispered before propping up on his elbows to kiss me.

With Francesco, I had felt immediately guilty because I loved his kiss so much. With Damon, all I felt was desire and heat and passion.

Being intimate with Damon meant there wasn’t room for any of the other men in my head. It was just him and me and his body and mine. Nothing else. No one else.

His lips all over my body, my hands exploring his… His entire body felt so warm, but his dragon tattoo felt so incredibly hot. It was as if his dragon lived right there, on that huge tattoo spread over his chest. I adored it. I adored him. He turned me on like no other, and what his mouth could do…

All night long, we were together, and it was more than just sex. We weren’t fucking. It was making love. No, it was even more than that. I loved him. I couldn’t give enough of myself to him. I wanted him to have all of me, every inch.

But every time that I climaxed, my thoughts were wonder. It was in those stolen moments of pure bliss that I did think of Miguel and Francesco. It was wrong, but I did, and yet I didn’t hate myself for it.

Because it wasn’t that I didn’t want Damon or that what we were doing wasn’t enough. I just wanted the other dragons too. Not at the same time, just all of them. One on one.

So selfish of me and that was when I did hate myself, and I woke up with a start. Between my legs was so damp. Damon hadn’t actually been here. We hadn’t made love all night. The sun was beginning to rise, but I was all alone.

Never had I felt the isolation more. Granted, my St. Bernard Rex hadn’t been around in a little while now, scared off by the dragons. I didn’t blame him. Poor guy. He was a monster of a dog, but still, dragons were that much more massive than he was.

I had truly thought Damon had been here, that we had made love again and again. Realizing it had only been a dream depressed me. I had felt so close to him. I might’ve even told him, “I love you,” one of the times when he’d made me come. Instead, he had no idea how I felt.

Then again, I had no idea how I felt either, so maybe that was just as well. I was a bundle of nerves. Until I could figure out what I wanted, which one I wanted, maybe I should stay away from the three of them. It wouldn’t do for me to make a complete fool of myself in front of them.

My hand flew to my mouth. I had kissed Francesco. He very well could tell the others. Would that hurt Damon and Miguel? I kind of wanted them to be hurt by it because that would mean they cared for me, but I also didn’t want them to be upset either.

See? So fucking confusing.

“Better to stay single,” I mumbled to myself as I forced myself to climb out of bed. If I stayed in bed too much longer, my hands were liable to wander and help relieve some of the mounting stress that was building. Not that my fingers would be able to give me the relief I needed. I wanted more.

After some cereal, I got dressed and deliberated my options. Should I call Detective Hugh Mark? Why not?

Before I did, I went outside and checked my rose bushes. I didn’t have a green thumb, not at all, but the bushes had been my mom’s, so I did my best to tend to them. The bushes wrapped around the side of the house, and I happened to look up.

Outside of my bedroom window on the second story were long marks.

Like claw marks.

As if from a dragon.