I moan in pleasure, thirsty for more . . . from both.
Aysen adds pressure to the soft tissue in my center, stimulating the area around my button. I groan, thrusting my pelvis and demanding more. His tongue answers my command, slowly swirling around the area pulsating for more, gliding over my nub, so tenderly I almost hate him for it. But then it’s back. Focused and relentless. Stroking, sucking, grazing and then it’s gone just as quickly, leaving my body starving.
Daxton is quick to satiate the hunger. His hands travel up, playfully taking their time and tracing the outer edges of my breasts. Cupping my breasts gently, he gives them the same attention as my center. He massages each, lightly and excitingly running his thumb over my nipples. Pleased, he positions me to the side where he can comfortably lean over me and dedicate all his attention. No longer using his fingertips, he softly flicks his tongue across my nipples causing them to swell and darken. He pulls them into his mouth, one at a time. His warm breath sends chills all over my body. They race over my skin and somehow seep deep inside, crawling into every single muscle. Every sensual tug, every gratifying nip causes my whole body to contract in unison.
Aysen joins in, skillfully touching me with his tongue, then greeting my interior with his fingers. I nearly explode. My eyes flap open, staring at the blue ceiling and shut quickly. No way was this happening in real life. If it was a dream, I needed to feel the ending of it.
Four hands. Two tongues. Three bodies. All of them on fire and one at the brink of combustion. Daxton and Aysen have taken over me. Possessed me. They control my body, and I willingly relinquish myself to them.
As one massages me, relaxing the muscles, the other does something to tense them, satisfying all of me. The back and forth way they skillfully take cues off each other, amplifies the grunts and moans, the squeals of delight and the gasps of desire, forming an exquisite song only our bodies can sway to.
It felt so damn perfect, I didn’t want to wake up from my midnight reverie. The warmth of their bodies pressed to mine, lulled me into a joyful stupor. When I woke up, throbbing and feeling their hard bodies pressed into either side of me. I realized my perfect dream wasn’t a dream at all.
I knew it, but the alcohol and the blondes propelled me into a threesome with the people I loved most in this world. A moment of panic replaces everything good and floods my body with guilt and remorse.
I escape to the sanctuary of Vonwest University, leaving a handwritten note asking for some time.
Now time was up.
Chapter One
“Oh my God, Daxton! What the hell are you doing here?” I wish I can shove the super heavy wooden dorm room door in his face, but I’m sitting in Psych 222, and there are no doors within reach. “You do realize that only people who go to college can attend classes, right?”
“Well,” he says, pointing to the center of his chest, and his university adorned costume. “I’m a legit Scorpion today.” He smirks.
Smirks! Like I’m supposed to applaud him for his blending in skills? I look around the room; all the estrogen producers are gawking at the shithead next to me. Gawk away. I’m confident that if they ever did get acquainted, shithead would be the sweetest name he’d be attributed. I’ve known Dax all my life. I’ve christened him many times with names like Shithead, Jerkface, Prickanator, Alphahole, Dipshit, Assface . . . The list goes on, but those are my most PG names. With that said, I doubt the girls are bothered by Dax’s appearance. All the collective drool in this place could fill an Olympic pool. Guys who stretch out T’s the way he does, usually have that effect on the penis loving population.
Even me. “The effing hell you are. This,” I wave my hands indicating my hard-earned space. “Is my sanctuary. I have one rule— No fucking Scorpion drama at Vonwest. So crawl back into the abyss you dragged yourself out of and leave me the hell alone. I don’t need any more shit in my life. You and Ace have gotten me into plenty of it in the last couple of months.”
The scowl on his face would scare a normal person.
Good thing I’m not normal. “Why are you still here, Dax?”
“That should be obvious. I’m not leaving without you.”
I don’t particularly appreciate his threat. Daxton Silver would never step foot onto any campus unless he absolutely had to. Which means he’s here on Scorpion business, and that business usually requires something from me. Something I had no interest in partaking in. Not then, not now, not ever. I don’t want to be anywhere near the drugs or illegal shit that goes on.
Unfortunately, I don’t have a choice.
“It’s been over a month since you’ve been by The Den. You don’t answer calls or respond to my texts, so here I am invading your private space.” He steps closer to me, doing just that; invading my personal bubble. Lowering his upper body down to lean over me, he whispers, “You’re avoiding me.”
I tilt my chin towards him, look him straight in the eye and poke the Scorpion. “No, I’m evading this conversation. There’s a difference.”
“I don’t go to college, but I’m pretty sure that’s practically the same thing.” He retreats back to his standing position, giving me a little breathing room. “What happened with Ryder and his kid is over. Ryder’s been upgraded and uprooted. I shouldn’t have dragged you in, and I’m sorry for that.”
My heart twitches at his apology. “Sorry for getting me shot or—”
“Or,” he cuts me off.
“But, Hailee, you know you need to come home.”
Home is the last place I want to go. The Den wasn’t my home. Homes are meant to be safe, quaint and happy. The Den never inspired any of those. Dax and Ace have though. They’ve been my happy place for so long that I’m miserable without them.
Miserable, but stress-free. Dragon business isn’t the only stress inducer in my life. The mere presence of the two boys who have nurtured, loved, and enlivened me, magnifies my stress insurmountably. The more time I spend with both of them, the harder it is to deny my heart.
My heart is going to be the death of me one day. It’s rocking against my ribcage, wishing it could jump into Daxton’s arms.
“We miss you, Hails. Ace’s been driving me nuts since you left.” At the mention of Aysen, my heart pauses, beating so quickly it makes me sick to my stomach. A slow desire consumes me, pleading with me, needing to catch a glimpse of Aysen.
I swallow hard, lowering my head to the floor, so I can close my eyes and try to regain control of my body. It works a little, but not nearly enough. This is so wrong. Wanting both of them. Wishing I could have Daxton’s strong arms around me and Aysen’s voice stirring my nerves just so he could relax me with his touch, is unnatural. I shouldn’t want such things. They shouldn’t let me want such things.
“Did you run away because of what’s in store for you at The Den, or because of Ace and I?”
Both. One I wanted but shouldn’t. The other was mine by birthright, but I didn’t want it. “You want to have this conversation out here? My class is about to start. Maybe we can catch up later?”
“No. Skip it. We need to talk.”
Talk? I don’t think so. Talking requires delving deep into the feelings I’ve worked very hard to forget. I didn’t just leave because of Ryder. I left because Dax and Ace wanted something my mind told me was wrong. “We can talk later. I have a test.”
“No, you don’t. I know how stressed out you get before a test.” I glance up at him, instantly regretting the decision. He shouldn’t be this good looking, or hold this much sway over me.
“Dax.” There’s a little less fight in my words.
He smirks, knowing he’s almost won. “Ace is waiting for us at The Sip.”
Ugh. Of course, he’d be here. They are always together, and it makes complete sense for him to be at the coffee shop, far away from anything school related. “You brought Ace?”
He shrugs. “You’re kind of a bitch when I come alone.”
I groan internally, as my professor strolls into the
auditorium and zeroes in on the big, beautiful oaf standing beside me . . . and me. I should ask my professor if there’s a scientific correlation between muscle mass and asshole because that would explain Dax and Ace. What it wouldn’t explain is why I’m packing my book bag with the textbook and notebook, and standing up to leave with Dax.
Happy I didn’t put up a fight, Dax grabs my bag and leads me out the door. The whole way to The Sip, I can’t stop thinking of how badly I suck at keeping my New Year’s Resolution. Five weeks in and I’m already cohorting with Dragons and getting sucked back into the Daxton and Aysen wormhole.
A year ago, I promised myself to stay away from Dragon business. A promise I failed to keep because I never isolated myself from the Dragons who held my heart, Daxton and Aysen. The boys who bandaged my knee when I scraped it against the asphalt, brushed my hair when my mother abandoned us, bought me tampons when I bled for the first time, broke my first boyfriend’s nose when he dumped me and filled the gaps my family’s unlawful life left. They are also the men who continuously torture my heart. They’ve filled, broken, weakened and enlivened it— repeatedly. Being loved by Ace and Dax is like wearing a noose around my neck, one of these days they will be the death of me, and that’s why I vowed to isolate myself from anyone and anything associated with The Den.
Before my mom vanished, she always said, “Hailee, Dragons are bad news, and death usually makes the headlines. When you get the chance, run and never look back.” Cliché, I thought. But I never understood how important her advice was, until about a year ago, my sister graced those headlines and the line of succession fell on my shoulders. I should have run, but leaving Dax and Ace proved harder than I thought. They were the arms that kept me safe, and finding my own strength away from them seemed impossible.
Now, it’s too late.
Today, on Valentine’s Day, I turn 21 and at the prime age to claim the throne my dad has been occupying, since my mom disappeared. It’ll soon be mine, but he can keep it for all I care.
The inner workings of the Dragon world are quite simple and have been in place since the 1800s. Dragons are ruled by a committee of three— two Dragon Masters and a Charmer. The Charmer position is matriarchal, passed down to the previous Charmer’s first-born daughter. The Masters’ positions are patriarchal and passed down to the firstborn sons of the previous Masters. Though we’ve evolved from protectors of the town to the ones who ruin it, the Silver, Blackwell, and Forte lines have ruled the Dragons for generations.
Our cover is The Den, a lucrative legal franchise that cloaks the dark world of the Dragons. A world that, quite literally, spans the seven continents. There are not only luxurious Dens all around the world, but Dragons to man the club and the trafficking it’s meant to cover. The Dragons are responsible for import, export, and distribution, relying on no one outside the circle.
Aren’t I lucky to inherit the Blackwell Curse? As much as I love Aysen Forte and Daxton Silver, the thought of ruling with them, being trapped with them for the rest of my life, petrifies me for many reasons. Not all of them Dragon related.
I’ve loved them both my whole life. Our love blossomed from something purely innocent and protective to something awkwardly appealing. If I wanted, I could have them both.
Neither of them minded my love for the other. Instead, they accepted it without jealous fits or raging hormones. They encourage flirtations in front of each other, and I can tell it thrills them to the point where they enjoy how uncomfortable it makes me. They know the uncomfortableness stems from the argument between my heart, which tells me to embrace it; and my brain, that screams for me to stay away. My refusal challenges them, and the love we share is what incites their uncharacteristic acceptance not to claim dibs.
Sharing the Dragons is unnatural, yet deviously alluring. The confusion, the desire to know how far they would take it, has me desiring things I shouldn’t. Things, I’m afraid I’d like too much to abdicate. Things that will not only link me to them, but lock me in place forever.
Aysen and Daxton, the future Dragon Masters, aren’t exactly known for their ability to share. Their personalities are as different as their appearance. Daxton, the brute muscle who attempts to mask his gentle heart with brusque words, is so unlike Aysen’s leaner, yet muscular physique and brilliantly devious mind. Both of them are taller than me, but Dax towers over Aysen by at least 5 inches.
If you saw them both together, you’d approach Aysen, thinking he’s the safer bet, but Aysen is impulsive. His smile and slate blue eyes coax you into a sense of security, and once you’re secured within his grasp, he can rip you to shreds in a matter of seconds with his sharp tongue and skillful fighting tactics. He’s colder, ruder, boundless and ready to do anything at any time.
Daxton, on the other hand, is sometimes prickly and sarcastic, but always tender. He’s respectful and usually thinks things through. Please and thank you are still in his vocabulary, and he doesn’t curse nearly as much as Ace and I. His threatening exterior is unwelcoming at first sight, but then the second he cracks a smile, and that smile travels up to his honey brown eyes, you no longer feel threatened.
With me, they are exactly who they are to everyone else, but they always leave me feeling . . . Vulnerable, exposed, and secure. At least, secure that no outsiders would hurt me.
In my world, it’s not the outsiders that worry me. It’s being linked to the Dragons for life that scares me. If I abandon my role, I’d probably make one of those Dragon news headlines. When my mom left, they searched for her everywhere, and not because they wanted to bring her back. She needed to stay buried if she wanted to keep herself from an actual burial.
So, either I stay on the run for the rest of my life, or I step up and start training for my role. What a wonderful Valentine’s/Birthday present, huh? I either get to run towards freedom and risk death, or step up, face the shit that went down and move on to assume my Charmed life.
Daxton abruptly comes to a halt ahead of me, and I almost collide with his back, knocking me back into the real world and out of my head.
“A little warning would be nice, Dax.”
Dax swivels on his heel to face me. “Well, if you stop staring at the floor like I’m dragging you to your execution, maybe you wouldn’t bump into things.”
Execution, that pretty much sums it up. To avoid this conversation, I take a wide step around him and throw open the door to The Sip. Before I can step inside, Dax latches on to my arm and pulls me back toward him. My mind flashes back to our night, filling me with a dream-like cloud. I puff out an exaggerated breath, hoping he would surrender his hold on me.
“Hailee, you know Ace and I will always have your back. What are you worried about?”
“Everything. I’m worried about everything.”
“Because Hannah was supposed to do this?” he asks.
Not really, but now that he mentions it. “Yeah! She was the one who was supposed to rule with you two. Me? I was the one who was supposed to get away. College, life, grad school, a legitimate career with no fears of getting arrested. You’d come to my office because all this fucked up your brain, dragging Ace along kicking and screaming. We’d meet up for the holidays and talk about life and my dorky husband. You both would hate him, of course.”
“Of course,” he interrupts my soliloquy. “You have it all planned out, huh? A life free of Daxton and me. After New—”
“Of the Dragons, Dax.” I’m quick to interrupt any mention of our night together and selfishly change the subject to something I am more comfortable discussing. “I hate Hannah for getting drunk and going off that bridge. She left me here to deal with her life. She wanted it all, Dax. She was promised a kingdom, and she lived for the day she could have it. Then she up and dies, shifting all the stuff she wanted to the one person who never wanted any part of it.”
Despite his annoyance at my evasion, he wraps his arms around me, cradling the back of my head with his palm, pushing me into his chest, and whispering, “I know, Hails
. I didn’t want this for you either.”
I’m moments away from bursting into tears. What exactly did he not want for me? Our fucked-up love triangle? Or, our fucked-up Dragon life? Or, the fucked-up fact that my sister died? Either way, my life has established a theme— fucked.
I do also have a fucked-up family. Abandoned by my mother, outcast and scorned by my father, and betrayed by my sister. I guess in the Blackwell household the booze flowed better than the love. Unless you were Daddy’s perfect Dragon heir, Hannah. She had the Charmed life, a charmer inheritor should have, while I was left to tend to myself.
My sis and I were never close, but I was grateful to have her because she took the burden off my shoulders. Hannah was 4 years older than us, and though Dragon Decree only called for training to start once all three successors hit twenty-one, Dad and Mom proudly groomed her for the position since she was little. I spent most of my days playing with Dax and Ace at The Den, while my sister soaked in everything she could. She had the drive, determination, and ruthlessness that I never did.
I’ll never forget the look of disappointment on my father’s face when they pulled her car out of the river with her body strapped inside. That night he didn’t just mourn the loss of his child, he mourned for the future of the club. He’s said, time and time again, ‘Hailee is too soft-hearted for the job.’ He’s called me fickle, weak, and driven by all the wrong things. Every time I walk into The Den, he keeps his distance, only engaging when absolutely necessary. My father doesn’t exactly inspire or encourage me. Then again, he doesn’t really love me either. If he did, he wouldn’t have said, “I wish it was you, and not Hannah that died.”
Those words entered through the holes in my heart, glued themselves to the wall, and still echo inside me with every heartbeat.
“Hailee?” Aysen’s voice causes Dax to release his grip.
I lift my head from the warmth of Dax’s chest and spot the water stain on his t-shirt. I swipe at the tears I didn’t realize had fallen, and turn around to face the last third of our threesome. Within moments, I’m securely tucked into Aysen’s arms. Somehow, he holds on tighter than Dax.
Web of Lies Page 44
