by Snow, Nicole
“Thirty seconds,” he snarls, pushing me flat on the bed, then moving over me, plumping my breasts with one hand and bringing a nipple to his mouth.
Paradise. That’s the only word when he sinks down, his tongue working the tip, promising what’s to come.
His mouth moves up, down, and then against my lips for at least thirty seconds. His tongue dances with mine, this slow burn preview of what he’ll do to me, slowly shifting in and out of my lips, taking a little more of my sanity with every stroke.
How did I get here again? Under this gorgeous beast of a man?
I’m on the bed, on my back, and throbbing all over again.
Drake ends a tongue-twisting kiss with a small peck on the tip of my nose.
“Don’t move an inch,” he says.
I grab at his arms as he climbs up the bed over me. “Where’re you going?”
“Rubber, darlin’. Kind of important to fuck. We’re not making babies just yet, but damn if we won’t get in plenty of practice.”
Something about the way he says it makes me suck my bottom lip.
Yes, it’s cliché. Yes, it’s ridiculous. Yes, every last bit of this is reckless and wild and totally a bad idea.
And I’m so horny as he rips open the dresser drawer and comes back with a little foil packet that I kinda don’t care.
Apparently, being this horny with no emergency fire extinguisher in sight can do that to a girl.
I watch as he rips open the packet with his teeth.
I sit up. “Can I help?”
He looks at me. “You want to?”
I hold out my hand and nod.
He gives me the packet, leaning back and propping himself up on his hands, giving me a magnificent view of his fullness again.
I peel it open and laugh. Picking up the little round rubbery ring, I glance at his hard-on and blink. “Um...this is really going to fit on that?”
“With your help.”
I lean down, trying to figure out how to work it.
His tip is only inches from my face. I study him, wondering if I should just glide it on, stroke down like I did while I had him in my mouth.
He growls, “C’mon, Bella, no such thing as perfect. Just slide the damn thing on.”
I laugh, positioning the center of the disk on his head, and then roll the edge down his length just like he asks.
“Holy crap. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it.”
“Get used to it. You’re gonna be doing it a lot the next six months.” He moves back between my legs, gently pushing me down again on my back. “But first, let’s see if I can make you a believer in this.”
I flip my legs to the outside of his, giving him ample room, biting back a moan as he swipes the tip of his cock against my clit.
“Shit, yeah,” he says, flicking my clit again.
My eyes roll back a little. I’m grabbing at the sheets, desperate for more, a little angry that we can’t just get this rodeo going.
“Hey! Just slide the damn thing in.” I smile, copying his earlier statement.
He gives me a look that’s half grin and half primal passion. Then he takes hold of his cock and guides it lower.
I’m ready, I tell myself. More than ready, but also nervous, thinking it has to be easier than the first time.
Drake looks at me again, his eyes narrowed, twin blue fires scorching me down as he sinks in good and deep.
That’s when I grab his arms and thrust my hips upward, meeting him. I’m instantly full, and throbbing, and holding my breath at the pure black magic of having every inch of him so deep.
I moan, moving against him, as he holds himself there, wanton lust reducing me to begging.
I think he likes it because he grabs my legs, pins them to his shoulders, and goes to town.
“There, Drake. Oh, oh God!”
It’s not supposed to happen so fast, is it? Being reduced to a steaming little pile of moans by this hulking giant slamming into me, picking up his pace, moving quicker, faster, harder the more I show him I can take it.
It’s like an entire mountain moving against me, a bulldozer of a man, every thrust a new lightning spike of pleasure arcing through me.
He grabs my hips after several more strokes, holding me still. “Riddle me this, Bella – how the fuck did you get tighter without that cherry?” His eyes are wide, almost in disbelief.
I shake my head, desperate to move against him, feel him sliding inside me. “You. Has to be you, cowboy.”
Then with a wicked grin, I clench with all my might on his dick. Those gorgeous blue eyes set in his head flutter. “Fuck!”
“I wasn’t totally clueless before today. I watched dirty stuff in college. I read things in books. I–”
“Darlin’?” He pauses, sucking a breath, his big, tattooed chest filling slowly. “If you keep talking about sex without using the word 'fuck,' we’re gonna have a problem. It’s a crying shame if your head’s full of dirty fucking thoughts without you pulling ’em out.”
I flush as his hand saunters up my side, up my neck, and he gently pinches my chin.
“Look at me, Bella. Try it. You want me to go so hard you see stars, you tell me what you want.” He’s biting back a smile, I just know it.
Ass. But it doesn’t mean I’m immune to his request. That furious, beautiful cock he’s holding – just holding! – inside me is worse than any tease I could come up with in a lifetime.
But I’ll try.
Slowly, I fold my legs around his muscular back, feeling him shift inside me. “Fuck me, Drake. Fuck me good and hard.”
“Hell,” he whispers, his eyes going brighter.
He starts moving, slowly at first, sliding in and out, in and out, this mesmerizing tempo that has me slipping back into sweet delirium in no time. I match his thrusts, gliding my hips back.
We find our rhythm, the perfect rhythm, and I lose myself all over again.
Nothing else exists but Drake’s inferno blue eyes and the burn between my legs. There’s just us and this amazing friction, the soft growl through his teeth, the way his brows furrow when he really starts to go.
Long, deep strokes fill every last bit of me. He’s growling, doing something down there. Something that feels like his pubic bone grinding into me, sweeping across my clit, bringing me off so hard I’m thrashing when it hits.
“Oh, Drake. Oh – fuck!”
Coming!
My pussy tenses. There’s this insane rush of slick heat. Then there’s just him growling, leaning in, stubble and teeth raking my shoulder. He takes my skin between his teeth, hard enough to mark, and I’m coming so hard I do see stars.
Just spinning, colorful sparks on a field of white-hot ecstasy.
Just him, this deep and this intense, throwing his full strength into me, thrusting with this frantic piston motion until his growl vibrates through my skin.
He swells so big, so sudden, it’s unmistakable.
I think him coming brings me off a second time, one O after the next, or is it just one vast wave of sweet release?
I don’t know.
I don’t care.
I just know I have to hold on and ride this out while the storm hits every part of me, while I come totally undone, while Drake’s cock pulses and he roars out his pleasure, still grinding into me as he empties his fire.
Holy flipping hell.
My nails dig into the flesh on his back as I ride the tsunami called Drake Larkin, Sex God.
“Drake!” I call his name again, coming that much harder, this furious, rampant pleasure engulfing me until I think I’ll break.
But I don’t. It just peaks and glides down, soft as a feather and buttery as molasses, and then it’s just his mouth on mine, furiously kissing.
I give it back. Later, I think we go at it so hard with our mouths because we’re both trying to ground ourselves. Trying to tell ourselves this can’t possibly be this freaking good.
Because it happens three more times that ni
ght.
And even when it’s over, every muscle in my body promising sore revenge tomorrow, I don’t know where this goes. Or what it’s become. Or how it ends.
Tonight, I’m Drake’s, and I’m happy.
Tonight, it’s like we’re really, truly husband and wife.
But what about tomorrow? A month from now? The last day of our six months we’re obligated to do this?
I can’t fathom what either of us will be when it’s not the will or my crazy parents or Jupiter Oil binding us together.
Okay, and sure, maybe it’s just a mad, sweet rush of sex hormones whirling in my head that are doing the talking right now.
It doesn’t change the fact that I’m afraid.
I’m so, so scared I’ll never want Drake Larkin anywhere but here, wrapping me up, a beautiful illusion too real to be a dream.
* * *
By morning, I pay the price.
I don’t think my legs hurt this bad when I used to run cross-country, or even riding Edison for hours when I was just a little girl.
Drake’s not done with me, either. He takes me again, bent over the bed, shaking the old frame something wild.
A 'wake-up fuck,' he calls it, supposedly the best sometimes.
I think I’m starting to believe him, too. Because when I bent down and let him fill me again, I thought I’d lost my mind, wincing at the pain in my thighs.
Surprise, surprise, it was gone by the time we’d finished. Him, snarling curses through his teeth, his hand sizzling against one cheek of my ass with a delicious sting, just before I went over the edge for the second time that morning.
God, I think I’d need a pen and paper to keep track of how many times we actually did it in the past twenty-four hours.
Pleasant memories. Especially when I’m looking at him.
Like right now. He’s outside, working on something. I can see him through the kitchen window.
My phone goes off and startles me then, but I keep one eye on him as I walk to the counter to get it, wondering if he’s calling me.
Nope. The number looks slightly familiar, though, so I hit the answer icon.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Annabelle? This is Angie Walker, Drake Larkin’s sister...you called and left a message yesterday.”
“Yes, this is Bella. And yes, I called. I’m Jonah Reed’s granddaughter. I was just checking in, wondering, I guess. Has Drake called you back yet?” I hold my breath, waiting, moving back to the window to watch him.
“No, I’m afraid he hasn’t.” There’s a pause before she continues. “Honestly, I’m not sure he will. He’s a proud man, and the way we split apart, after Dad died...it was ugly. Really, really nasty. I think I need to make the first move. Drake’s, well, a little stubborn sometimes.”
I nod, even though I know she can’t see me. “No doubting here.”
Another pause. Then she says, “I have an odd request.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, my kids are on spring break starting tomorrow, so I have next week off too, and, well...Dallas is only like a three-hour drive or so from Kinsleyville here over the border. I was wondering if we drove in—”
“Please!” I practically shout it and catch myself. “Please, Angie. Do come and see us.”
I smile. Drake will be happy to see them. I know he will.
“Oh, you’re sure it’s okay? The article I read said he was hired help? More like a companion?”
“Right. He lived here with my grandfather for the last four years.” I glance around the kitchen. “Did all sorts of things around the ranch and took care of him when Grandpa got ill.”
Another long pause. “He did?”
My heart warms. “Yeah, and he did an amazing job. I’m so grateful for all he’s done, Angie, I can’t even tell you...”
Drake glances over his shoulder, sees me, and waves. Not wanting him to know who I’m talking to, I wave back and then turn, lowering my voice.
“So when should we expect you? We have plenty of extra room for the kids.”
“I wouldn’t dare impose. We’ll stay at a hotel in town, I just thought we could visit him at your place.”
“Absolutely. And think it over, wherever you’d like to stay. It’s a big old farm house here. I loved it when I was a little girl, and I bet your kids will too. When are you coming?”
“I thought we’d leave in a few days, if that’s all right?”
“Perfect! I won’t say a word to Drake, but please, Angie, don’t book a hotel room yet. Stop here first. The hotel is rarely full, so there’s no need to worry about that.”
“All right, thanks, and thanks for calling.” She pauses again. “You know, I cried when I heard your message...it’s been so long. I’ve missed my brother.”
My heart goes out to her. “I’m glad I called you, too, and even happier you’re coming to visit. Can’t wait to meet you and Sherry and Terry.”
“Drake told you their names?” she asks, her voice growing a little happier.
“Sure did. We’ll talk soon, Angie. Everything is going to be fine. I promise.”
16
Sleeping Dragons (Drake)
Fuck.
I can’t even believe the news. It hits me like a brickbat to the skull, so hard it leaves my ears ringing.
“You’re sure there’s no mistake?” I ask Gary.
“Certain. I’m at the sheriff’s office right now. I came over to talk to Rodney, but Shelia said he was busy, and then told me about it herself. Secretly, I might add. He’s gone, Drake. This isn’t on the public record yet, so –”
“Understood.”
Only, it fucking isn’t making sense at all. I just can’t get it through my head.
He can’t be dead. Avery Briar would’ve never have let that happen. I’m already considering alternatives, insane ones, a ruse or a jailbreak or a drug to make him look dead, or some shit.
Then my line beeps and I look at the screen. Shit.
“Looks like Wallace is calling me right now. I’ll call you back.” I click off before Gary answers. “Hello?”
“Drake? You aren’t gonna believe this,” Wallace says. “Hell, there’s no easy way to say it, so here it is. We found Holden Metzer – aka Adam Briar – dead in his cell this morning.”
It’s like I’m hearing it for the first time. The news just punches my gut with disbelief.
Funny how I’m this upset by a lowdown piece of demon shit being flung back to his maker, but it’s because I don’t believe that for a second.
“From what?” I ask quietly.
“Don’t know yet. Coroner is on his way. I’d say overdose, but I can’t figure out how he could’ve gotten his hands on anything. They were strip searched on arrival and haven’t had any visitors. No room for contraband whatsoever.”
“Have you called Briar?” I ask.
Wallace clears his throat. “No. We have to proceed carefully, Drake, do it by the book. He’s never admitted Adam was his son. We booked him under a fake name, fake socials, everything. When I mentioned the last name once, asked if they were related when Adam came up in an old database, he said no. Adam never admitted it either. Said he’d never seen Avery until he stopped them on the side of the road.”
My gut churns pure hell. None of this makes a damn lick of sense and still doesn’t. “You believe ’em?”
“Don’t know. Nothing came up in background searches, and no fingerprints matched, but...clearly there’s something slimy here. I just can’t put my finger on what.” Wallace sighs. “Gonna be a real spectacle, too, the second the press finds out. Nothing’s ever happened like this in Dallas before. Not in my jail.”
Part of me sympathizes. The rest of me is just too pissed.
“What about the other boy? That beady-eyed little partner of his missing a finger?” Feeling eyes on me, I glance over my shoulder.
It’s Bella, watching me out the window. A smile tugs at my mouth.
I never remember wanting to spen
d a whole day in bed, but it hit me this morning.
“He hasn’t said a word,” Sheriff Wallace tells me. “Didn’t even make eye contact when I told him about Adam.”
Needing to keep my focus, I turn so I can’t see the house. “They were in separate cells, weren’t they?”
“Yeah, big ol’ concrete wall between them, too. The preliminary hearing’s tomorrow on their case.”
My fingers curl into a fist. “What about a lawyer? Anybody come to see them?”
“Yep, a court appointed guy, and they were watched the entire time he visited. Got it all on camera, I’ll be reviewing the footage soon.”
I don’t know what to think, but I know Avery has his hand in this. Somehow. “When will you get the coroner’s report?”
“Probably at least a week. They’ll have to send the body out to Dickinson for a proper look,” Wallace answers.
Damn it, he’s right.
The town doesn’t have those kinds of resources, and never needed them, not even during the boom. It hit here fast, just like it did elsewhere, and land and resources spun up tight in nothing but oil and too little infrastructure.
Even Dallas got hit when the boom backed off. Thankfully, North Earthart’s been a million times more successful than the two-bit operations that sprang up in other North Dakota places, and left them ghost towns.
I doubt even Gary knows about the old mine Bella inherited with this ranch. The ground underneath it still has mineral riches Jonah always said he could tap with modern methods. North Earhart owns the mineral rights, too, but the old man always said he’d leave ’em for somebody younger and wiser, seeing how he’d just done oil all his life.
“I’ll keep you posted,” Wallace tells me. “And...I’m sorry, Drake. I know it’s real sour, having it go down this way. I know how bad you wanted to put this bastard kid away.”
“Thanks.” I click off, scroll back to Gary’s number, and call him.
“Wallace thinks it was an overdose,” I say when he answers.
“I know. I’m on my way to visit their lawyer.”
“You know him?”
“I did in high school. I’ll call when I know more, after I feel him out.”