Playing With Fire: Dragons Of The Darkblood Secret Society

by Meg Ripley

  “I haven’t even kissed you,” I told her, pitching my voice low. “I haven’t even kissed you and I can tell you I know I would never be able to forget you.” For a second Olivia just stared at me, her eyes wide, her lips parted just a fraction, looking like the most completely kissable woman on the entire planet. “You want to fuck me, we both know it. You don’t want me to forget you; I’m not going to.”

  “How do you even expect me to believe that?” Olivia swayed on her feet, like her body was torn between coming closer to me and running away.

  “Trust me,” I told her. “Just trust me. I could never forget you, Olivia. If I’m not still right there in your bed next to you tomorrow morning, sleeping like a fucking baby, then you can write that I’m the most disgusting asshole in all of Florida.”

  “You act like I wouldn’t do that with or without your permission,” Olivia said, her voice breathless.

  “So if I’m gone in the morning, do that,” I murmured. “I won’t even argue. I’ll tell your editor that you’re completely and totally right.” I brought my hands up slowly, letting them barely—barely—come to rest at her waist. Olivia twitched, but didn’t try and break away.

  “Can I get that in writing?” I chuckled.

  “If you want me to put in writing that I’ll never leave your apartment without your permission, you’ll get it,” I told her. Before she could say anything else, I closed the distance between us. I brushed my lips against hers, just the tiniest little touch. I felt Olivia stir against me, just enough to encourage me.

  I deepened the kiss, pressing my lips against hers harder, swiping my tongue against the soft, soft skin. I wrapped my arms around her waist and pressed her back to the counter, my hips rubbing against her hips. Olivia moaned softly, trembling just a little bit, and I let my hands start to wander over her body, taking in the curves and lines of her by touch. I cupped her tits, giving them as much of a squeeze as I dared, and god—god they felt just like I’d thought they would, heavy and firm, barely fitting into my hands.

  At first Olivia just gave into me; but in seconds we were both pawing at each other all over, groping and touching. She was like a live wire, like my favorite Epiphone in my hands. I slid my hand along her waist and heard a little moan in her throat. I teased her nipple through the fabric of her clothes and heard a gasp. Just like a solo. Just like playing a solo… I smiled against Olivia’s lips as I played her body, finding the notes by touch. She shivered; she moaned, she cried out—a sexy little song to a tune that only I knew how to play.

  I pulled her away from the counter, and Olivia came along with me, arching into every touch, twisting and moving to help me as I stripped off the tee shirt and let it fall to the floor, as I reached around to her back and unhooked the clasp on her bra. Her clothes and mine fell away bit by bit, as Olivia started to get more and more into the moment. I could feel her getting more turned on, heat building up in her body, sinking into me as we made our way stumbling from the kitchen to the living room, and down the short little hallway to her bedroom.

  We stumbled through the door, and one of Olivia’s hands left me for just a second. Light flashed on in the bedroom, and I pushed her towards the bed, breaking away from her lips long enough to get an eyeful of her as she fell amongst the blankets and sheets and pillows, looking up at me breathlessly. “Fuck, Liv,” I said, my heart stuttering in my chest, my whole body heating up at the sight of her almost completely naked right there in front of me. I saw the spreading, darkened spot where she’d soaked through her pink, lacy panties. “God, do you even know how hot you are?” The pink-red blush that lit up her face and crept across her chest made her sexier than anything I could even imagine; the way her boobs shook just a little bit from her landing was enough to send a hot jolt right to my cock.

  I climbed onto the bed on top of her, covering her body with my own, and kissed her again. I reached down between her legs, and I could feel the slightly sticky slickness of her fluids as I started to rub her through the fabric of her panties. She was soaking—absolutely soaking wet, just how I’d thought she’d be if I could ever get her to this point. I dropped my mouth down along the column of her throat, kissing and nibbling at her sensitive skin. Olivia shuddered and moaned, her hips moving in reaction to my touches, her nipples barely brushing against my chest as she squirmed and writhed underneath me.

  I kissed her all over, hungry for her—for the sweet smell of her perfume, the salt of her sweat on my tongue. Olivia was totally wrapped up in the moment, touching me everywhere, exploring my back and shoulders, my arms, my ribs, moving down until she came to the hard, hot rock that my cock had become. I groaned as her fingers wrapped around me, as she started slowly—oh god, so slowly—stroking me up and down. Her thumb rubbed the tip of my cock in little circles, and I was almost gone right then and there. “What are you doing to me, Liv?” My hips thrust into her touch like I was already inside of her.

  “Touching you,” she murmured breathlessly. “Just—just like you’re touching me.” I chuckled, kissing her hard on the lips for just a second before I started moving down her body with my mouth. I came to her chest and looked up into her eyes as I wrapped my lips around one nipple and then the other, sucking and licking until her hand on my shoulder tightened into a viselike grip, and her hand on my cock almost went still, squeezing a little harder but not hard enough to hurt.

  I worshiped her tits for what felt like half an hour while I teased her with my fingers, sliding underneath the fabric to come up against her bare skin, slipping along her folds until I found her clit. We both worked each other until we were shaking; I was so close to coming that I could taste it, my nerves crackling with it. If I could play her like a guitar, she was turning me into putty in her hands, working me until it seemed impossible for me to hold out any longer.

  “If you don’t stop torturing me,” Olivia said, panting and gasping as she shivered underneath me, “then I will—tell the whole world you’re like, one inch.” I laughed, looking down into her dark eyes.

  “You’d be a fucking liar, and I’d prove it,” I told her. But I pushed her hand away and tugged her panties down over her hips. I was more than ready to finally get inside her—I didn’t want it; I needed it. I threw Olivia’s panties over my shoulder without even looking, and the next moment I was guiding my aching, throbbing cock up against her silky, slick folds. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

  When I thrust into her, I felt her muscles ripple around me—the tightening, the resistance of her body. I gripped the sheets, holding back. “Fuck. Fuck, you feel so good.” I breathed in slowly as I pushed deeper and deeper inside of her, filling her up inch by inch. She was so tight, so wet and so hot, and every time I moved inside of her even a little bit I felt her muscles flex around me, rippling.

  “Oh—oh God, you too, Nick…fuck!” I thrust the last little bit inside of Olivia all at once, my hips colliding with hers. I had to be still for a minute; if I moved, if I even breathed the wrong way, I’d come right then and there.

  But then, only a few seconds later, we were both moving again; Olivia wrapped her thighs around me, pushing her hips down to meet my thrusts, and her hands were all over me, touching and exploring. I kissed her everywhere, keeping my pace as slow as I possibly could. I wanted to make it last. I wanted to make Olivia come over and over again before I finished. I wanted to hear her moans and cries go higher, louder, and feel her body tightening down on me.

  I picked up my pace, gradually moving my hips faster, pushing deeper and deeper inside of her; I could hear the wet, sucking, slapping sounds of our bodies, and over that the sharp gasps, the catch in her breath when I rubbed up against her g-spot every few thrusts. The sound of Olivia’s moans filling my ears was like music, and I played her body by ear, listening for the noises I wanted to hear the most, touching and kissing and moving to get what I needed.

  I felt her whole body tightening, every muscle tensing; I heard her cry out, saw her head fall back against
the pillows as she moaned again and again. I held myself back somehow, riding through her first orgasm, slowing down and then speeding up again to keep myself from tumbling out of control inside of her.

  I built her up again, slowing almost to a stop as she shivered and sagged underneath me, gasping and panting for breath. I kissed her again and again, murmuring in her ear about how good she felt, how hot she was, how beautiful she looked when she came. Soon enough we were both at it again, pushing each other, moving against each other, and Olivia was twisting her hips under mine, writhing like something electric.

  Finally, when I felt the telltale shivering grip of her muscles on my cock, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I pounded into her as hard and fast as I could as liquid heat exploded through my hips, my cock twitching out of control. I barely even heard my long, low groans of pleasure as I came harder than I’d come in months—maybe years. I couldn’t even think, I couldn’t do anything but keep thrusting deep inside that tight, hot pussy, fire flowing through me and out of me until I was completely and totally emptied out. I was dripping with sweat, panting like I’d run a marathon, and my arms and legs felt like they were made of rubber.

  “Remember,” Olivia said, between panting gasps for breath. “You’re not leaving or I tell everyone…you’re…tiny.” I chuckled and wrapped my arms around her lazily, sliding out of her body and sinking onto the bed next to her.

  “I’m not leaving,” I told her, struggling to catch my breath. “I am staying right here and as soon as I catch my breath I’m fucking you again. And again. Until neither of us can stay awake anymore.”

  ****

  I woke up with the light streaming in my face, burning through my eyelids; the first thing I noticed—as soon as I gave up on trying to burrow into the pillows and blankets on Olivia’s bed—was that I was in it alone. I couldn’t hear a single sound in the apartment, no matter how I strained my ears. You’ve got to be shitting me. She goes on about me sneaking out on her in the morning… I had to grin to myself. If Olivia had sneaked out of her own apartment, leaving me by my lonesome, I had to at least give her points for turning my usual trick around on me.

  I managed to find my clothes scattered around, and get them on, wondering to myself if this was some kind of test; was Olivia looking for me to stay, and prove that I wouldn’t abandon her? Or was I supposed to leave? I found my phone, and saw that I had more than a few texts on it from the guys in the band. Nothing from Olivia saying anything one way or another. I told Mark and Alex that I was okay, told Dan that I’d managed to pull it off with Olivia after all, and texted Jules that I’d be able to make it to rehearsal—in that order. I looked around the apartment, trying to decide how to go about going home to my own place. If Olivia was looking for me to stay—if she’d stranded me by not letting me know she was leaving—then I had to decide if it would be better for me to disappear without any notice, or stick around and see if she came back.

  She is not the kind of girl you want to just hook up with and then ghost out, I thought, shuddering at the memory of what Olivia had felt like, the sound of her moans, the way she’d tasted and smelled—everything about her. I wanted more. If she hadn’t run out on me before I woke up, I was sure that I would have convinced her to have a little morning delight, as Jules called it sometimes. A little quickie, something to leave her with a memory. I definitely wanted to see more of Olivia—that much I knew. I wanted to see her as much as possible. I wasn’t sure if I wanted what Alex had exactly, but I couldn’t help but feel more than a little intrigued at the little flash of Olivia’s personality that I’d seen. Too bad we’re going on tour in a few weeks. I cringed at that; normally tour was great—a different girl in every city, no expectation from any of them that they’d “land” me or “tame” me or whatever it was girls tended to think. But it would definitely make it harder to make any kind of lasting connection with Olivia, or set up any kind of arrangement to see her regularly.

  I wandered around her apartment a bit, looking at the show posters, at the different things scattered around. Her place definitely smelled better than mine; I’m not a messy guy, but I’m also not the kind of guy who buys candles or anything like that on a normal basis. Don’t get me wrong; it wasn’t like walking in some kind of flower garden at Olivia’s place, but there was a kind of warm, clean smell to everything.

  I decided that I might as well catch a ride from someone; Olivia either was out doing something and wouldn’t be home soon, or was going to be away from the apartment avoiding me all day. I found a note pad in her kitchen with a pen attached to it and decided to leave her a little note. Good job turning my own trick around on me! I waited a bit but decided that you probably made yourself scarce for good reason. I’ll be in touch, unless you tell me not to be. I signed it the way I signed all my autographs—it’d become ingrained habit—and left it where she’d see it as soon as she walked into the house.

  I texted Mark and told him that I needed a ride, and started walking up the street. The kind of neighborhood where Olivia lived was exactly the kind to have a bunch of tiny, mom-and-pop restaurants and cafes nearby. I needed coffee yesterday; with any luck, I’d find a Cuban-run place and stuff myself with some papas rellenas and a couple of shots of café Cubano while I waited for Mark to get dressed and come get me.

  A few blocks down from Olivia’s place I found exactly what I wanted: a tiny, run-down building with a whitewashed stucco exterior (stained along the sprinkler line), with a flickering neon sign saying it was open. I didn’t even pay attention to the name written in Spanish; I just walked in. The smell of slow-roasting pork and onions and garlic hit me hard enough to make my stomach almost cramp with hunger. The woman behind the counter understood at least enough English to take an order—thank God, since there were parts of Dade county where that wasn’t the case—and in a few minutes I had a big plate of greasy, fried things, and a few plastic shot glasses of syrupy, foamy, dark Cubano coffee in front of me on a rickety plastic table. I sent Mark a location ping and he said he’d be there in fifteen minutes; just enough time for me to scarf it all down. I’ll buy him some of those croquetas and a café con leche to thank him. He’ll never have to know I pigged out before he got here.

  ****

  By the time I made it to rehearsal that afternoon, I realized that I wasn’t going to stop thinking about Olivia any time soon. If she wanted to guarantee that I couldn’t just treat it like a one-night stand, she definitely picked the right strategy, I thought as I started plugging in and checking the levels on everything.

  “You’re quiet, Nicky,” Alex said, exhaling a gust of cigarette smoke from the couch.

  “He went with a girl who had already decided not to have sex with him,” Dan pointed out. “I think our Nicholas is coming down with something.”

  “Yeah but he stayed the night, and from what he told me…” Mark smirked from the drum kit, where he was adjusting one of the hi-hats.

  “Maybe Nick’s actually falling for someone,” Jules suggested, strumming a quick check of his guitar’s tune.

  “I’m just tired, guys,” I said, rolling my eyes. “She had me up all night.”

  “I didn’t think she was the type,” Mark said. “Seems like a one-and-done kind of girl.”

  “Nah,” I said, grinning to myself. “I’m not even sure there’s an end to her. Once you get her started, I mean.”

  “Nicky is falling for her,” Alex said, sitting up and staring at me. “You’re totally into her.”

  “She’s fun,” I told him, shrugging again. “She’s smart. And fuck, man…” I shook my head, remembering the way that Olivia had felt, wrapped around me, the way she’d sounded, moaning out, the way her breath caught and she trembled when she got close to climax. “If she hadn’t skipped out before I woke up, I might not even be here. I’d be too busy making her scream my name.”

  “She skipped out on you?” Dan made a face, his eyes wide with amazement. “No wonder she’s got him on the hook.”

&nbs
p; “Yeah, yeah. She’s an enigma or whatever. Are we going to rehearse or not?” Alex jumped to his feet and strode towards the mic stand, and for a little while the subject of Olivia and my feelings about her was forgotten. We played through the new album from start to finish, stopping to change something that had worked in the studio but didn’t really come across “live,” or to change a solo here or there, or to jam out a bit. We took a break before we had to get into the older songs, to try and decide which ones we were going to keep on the set list.

  I stepped outside the rehearsal space and got my phone out of my pocket, along with my cigarettes and lighter. I figured that hopefully by then, Olivia had managed to make it back to her place; it would be a decent time to text her. Hey—that was some disappearing act this morning. Everything okay? I felt like a fucking idiot when I sent it; something in the back of my head told me that the reason Olivia had left before I woke up was that she’d regretted going to bed with me in the first place. But why would that even be an issue? She’d had a good time—I was sure of it.

  A few seconds later, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I flicked ash off the end of my cigarette and slipped my phone out to see if it was Olivia. It was. I had to go into the office. Editor wanted the interview ASAP, so I thought it’d be best to work from there. I rolled my eyes; it was a good excuse, but it felt like just that—an excuse.

  I’d like to see you again. I mean…if you had a shitty time then I get it, I won’t bug you. But if you had a good time… God, I sounded like I was in high school again. I couldn’t think of a better way to say what I wanted to say; I sent it even though it sounded like some pathetic dude who never got laid.

  I went back into the rehearsal space and threw myself into work, pushing Olivia to the back of my mind. My phone buzzed in my pocket at one point but I made myself ignore it; I wasn’t going to be like those chicks that stared at their phones waiting for an answer, fingers itchy to send another message. I’d just get around to it when there was another break. We started discussing which of the songs we wanted to be on the core set list—the songs we played every show—and which we’d keep on the secondary list to have something to change things up. The tour was going to be pretty long; it would drive us all crazy to play all the exact same songs every single night of it.