Enchanted By Fire (Dragons Of The Darkblood Secret Society Book 3)

by Meg Ripley

  “No secrets in a well-functioning band,” she muttered to herself.

  “Damn straight,” Nick confirmed. “I’d tell you my cock is longer than Alex’s, but he does have the girth to make up for it.” Mary held up a hand as her blush deepened and I laughed.

  “Anyway,” she said, and I watched the stretch of her tee shirt as her chest rose and fell in a deep breath. “The point is that I think you’re right. Someone bought Farber off.”

  “Big J?” Mark asked doubtfully.

  Mary shrugged. “Why not? Maybe he couldn’t find someone willing to go clean for long enough to get to Alex, or maybe he just wanted to avoid sending someone into rehab for whatever reason. Maybe his dealers can’t get in. It doesn’t matter.” Mary shrugged again. “I know Farber told me—after you left, Alex—that us having sex wasn’t going to be the official grounds for my dismissal, which tells me he was just looking for an excuse.”

  “So then J might already know where you’re at. I mean, where else would you go?” Nick took a big gulp of lemonade, gesturing to Mary. I saw Mary’s blush leave her face, and the pale, uncertain look came over her again—for just an instant.

  “So, yeah,” she said, making her voice chipper and cheerful. “I might as well go into the lion’s den with you. I’m no safer here than anywhere, until Big J is off the streets.”

  “Definitely worth getting kicked out of rehab for, man,” Nick said, grinning at me.

  “Also, Ron said she can stay on as your personal counselor, she’ll be on the payroll. At least, assuming we aren’t all dead in a week,” Jules added.

  “Okay,” I said, looking at each of my band mates and then at Mary. “How exactly is this supposed to work?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “You’ve been to Vagabond before, right?” I was pacing the length of Mary’s room, watching her get ready. The guys had left a few hours before, after we’d all decided on a course of action that was—we hoped—least likely to get us all killed. Mary and I would go to the club where a lot of Big J’s dealers hung out. The hope was that our presence would, of course, be noticed and then passed along to the man himself. If we were really lucky, Big J would make an appearance; if not him, then someone higher up in the rankings than the dealers who just hung out at the club.

  The cops would be waiting to pounce, at least ideally. Nick and Jules were going to another club that hosted some of Big J’s dealers, and Dan and Mark were going to be at a third. The hope was that with the buddy system in place—and with police backup waiting discreetly for each pair of cold Charleys—that we’d manage to not get ourselves killed. I had to wonder just how safe any of us actually was with such a spur-of-the-moment plan.

  “Yes, I’ve been to Vagabond before,” Mary said, carefully following the line of her eyelashes with a black pencil. She turned to face me. “I’m not some goody two-shoes, you know.” I grinned. Unlike her normal, everyday makeup, Mary had chosen—and I couldn’t exactly say she was wrong—a bold, stark look for our night out: dark shadows framed her eyes with a flicker of green at the edges, and her lips were painted bright red. She looked both completely familiar and utterly new.

  “What with your mom and all, I figured you for the type to never pick up a drink or anything like that,” I said with a shrug. Mary rolled her eyes, turning back to face the mirror. I tried not to let my gaze go directly to the tantalizing curve of her ass, the shape only accentuated by the tight skirt she wore. Is she even wearing anything under that? It doesn’t look possible. You’d see some kind of line somewhere if she was…fuck, she’s saying something, pay attention.

  “I do drink on occasion, I go to shows, I’ve even—gasp—tried a few different drugs. I know, huge shock.” Mary met my gaze in the mirror.

  “What have you tried?” I was intrigued at the idea of Mary, dressed much as she was right now, in the bathroom of Vagabond doing a line or two. Or maybe she was more of an E girl? Mary shrugged, applying mascara carefully to her eyelashes.

  “I’ve smoked pot, and one of my friends got her hands on some 2C-E one semester and we tried it.” I looked at her with more respect.

  “Psychedelics, very nice. Ever try E?”

  Mary made a face. “It never seemed to be a good trade-off for me,” she said, pulling back to admire and evaluate her work. “Oh—I did try glass, once. Not being able to sleep the rest of the night and having to sit through my friend’s toddler’s birthday party with that hangover firmly settled the idea that it wasn’t worth it.”

  I laughed. “Should’ve asked whoever gave you the blow for a little bit for the road,” I suggested. “Or smoked a little pot to mellow out.” Mary made a face again, and turned to face me. Don’t stare at her tits. Don’t. She’ll slap the shit out of you if you do.

  “Are you even serious right now?” she asked me, crossing her arms over her chest; that only made the precarious struggle I was dealing with to avoid staring at her full breasts, straining at the neckline of her top, all the worse. “That is terrible fucking advice.” I swallowed against the tight, dry feeling in my throat. It was a mix of how completely delicious Mary looked—and how much I wanted her—and the very real fear that we were going to our deaths.

  “Are you wearing anything under that skirt?” Mary’s eyes widened in surprise at the question, and her cheeks went pink in a way that had nothing to do with the little bit of color she’d painted on them.

  “Yes,” she said, pressing her lips together as she looked down at the floor.

  “Really? I don’t believe you.”

  Mary’s blush deepened and she met my gaze. “Seriously? You want to fuck right now?” Her voice was strained.

  I shrugged. “It’s another hour until we need to leave anyway; might as well kill some time.” I licked my lips. I wanted to reach out, pull her skirt up, and see for myself if she was telling the truth.

  “Were you this horny when you were using?” Mary asked me, her arms tightening slightly across her chest. I considered answering, but after a moment, the sight of her curves and the appealing mystery of what I would find underneath her clothes made it impossible to even think of words. I closed the distance between us, letting my hands fall to Mary’s full hips as I leaned in close.

  “I was hornier,” I murmured before I pressed my lips against hers. I didn’t even care about how carefully she’d applied her makeup, or the prospect of messing it up. I let my hands wander over her body, enjoying the satisfying feeling of her heavy breasts, her tiny waist, her firm ass under my fingers. I couldn’t imagine how it was even possible for her to have anything on underneath her clothes. It wasn’t possible; I had to prove she was lying. A hot jolt shot through me at the idea of getting Mary naked again; neither of us had made a move after our first—and only—tryst, but everything about that little incident was burned into my memory.

  I found the hem of Mary’s skirt and tugged it up, slowly and carefully. She shivered against me and I deepened the kiss as her lips parted, tasting and probing her mouth. I managed to work Mary’s tight skirt up over her hips and pulled back, already panting slightly from the heat rushing through my body, pooling in my groin like molten metal. “I’ll be fucked,” I said, looking down to see the tiny, barely-there scrap of lace and ribbon that was trying to pass as her panties. It was no wonder I hadn’t seen any evidence of it; in the mirror behind her I could see the fine ribbon that disappeared between the high, full, firm cheeks of her ass.

  “In a few minutes, sure,” Mary said, her voice rippling with amusement. I grinned and slipped a hand between her thighs, bringing my fingers up to barely brush against the little scrap of fabric that barely—and I mean barely—covered her pussy. Mary shivered and I began to stroke her slowly, pressing my fingers against her until they worked up in between her already-slick folds.

  “How pissed off would you be if I took off all of your clothes right now?” I nibbled along the column of Mary’s throat as I rubbed her, finding her clit by touch; I knew I’d found it when she g
asped, her hips bucking, pushing her slick pussy against my fingers.

  “Not—not all of them. This took a while,” Mary murmured, a soft moan leaving her lips. I kissed her again as she became wetter and wetter, soaking through her panties every moment that I stroked and rubbed her. I hooked my fingers in the waistband of her thong and tugged. The ribbons managed to hold up—somehow—as I pulled the little scrap of fabric down off of Mary’s hips and dragged it along her thighs, letting it fall to the floor.

  “I’ll leave the skirt on,” I suggested, cupping her pussy in the palm of my hand and rubbing slowly. Mary’s hands fumbled and tugged at the bottom of the button-down shirt I had put on, slowly working it free of my jeans. She brought her hands back around to the front of my body and began to slowly work the buttons free.

  “Bra too,” Mary said breathlessly.

  “The shirt’s got to be harder to get into than the bra,” I said, pulling her away from her bathroom counter and staggering into the bedroom beyond. I had been pleased to note that Mary’s room was clean, but not exactly neat; her bed was unmade, there were a few stray dirty clothes that hadn’t made it into the hamper, little things like that told me that she wasn’t afraid to be a little messy.

  I tumbled Mary onto her bed and pulled at the tight, low-cut shirt she wore, trying to figure out just how to get it off of her. I wanted, more than anything, to see her fully naked, but I knew there was no chance of that; I’d have to stay content with the lovely glimpse I’d had of her ass, her bare pussy, and her barely-covered tits. Maybe later—assuming we weren’t both killed—we would have time to see each other in more detail.

  I pulled the cups of Mary’s bra down without even knowing how I’d gotten her shirt off; she had managed to finally finish unbuttoning my shirt and had stripped it down over my arms. “Fuck, Alex,” Mary muttered, trembling underneath me on the bed. “I love your ink—did I ever mention that?” I chuckled, kissing and nipping along the column of her throat.

  “Don’t think you did,” I replied, spreading her legs wider. Something had plagued me ever since our fast-and-dirty tryst days before. I wanted—needed—to taste her, something I hadn’t had time for when we’d been together on the art room couch. I slithered down along the curves of her body, trailing kisses everywhere on my way from her lips to her tits, along her bare belly, past the bunched-up fabric of her skirt. I kissed Mary’s inner thighs and she shivered.

  “Fucking tease,” she said with a groan of frustration. I laughed, brushing my fingers against her soaking wet folds. I spread Mary’s legs wider and held them pinned with my arms, breathing against her sensitive, drenched skin.

  “I’m a tease? You’re the one wiggling your ass right in front of me like you wanted me to just push your fucking skirt up and fuck you right there in the bathroom,” I muttered, burying my face against Mary’s soaking wet pussy, sucking and licking ravenously. She gasped and moaned, her hips twisting underneath me as she arched up off the bed in instant reaction. She’s definitely a hot little thing under that cool, professional act, I thought as I lapped up the fluids that had started to flow. I moaned; I had to admit that Mary tasted even better than I had let myself imagine.

  I worshipped her with my tongue, teasing Mary with my barbell piercing for as long as I could hold out, even as my cock began to throb and ache with need. I brought the tip of my tongue up to her clit and then just barely missed it, darting back down to the well of her pussy once more, over and over again. Mary pitched and twisted and writhed underneath me, moans ripping through her lips, cut through by gasps. I kept it up until I couldn’t stand to wait for even a moment longer—I had to have her.

  I pulled back and Mary groaned in frustration, her hands tightening on my shoulders in a desperate bid to keep me right where I was. I chuckled and licked my lips clean of the last little trace of her fluids, slithering up along Mary’s body until I came to her mouth. I kissed her hungrily, rocking my hips against hers, rubbing the hard bulge of my erection against her soaking wet pussy. “This isn’t all about you, sweetheart,” I told her. “I have needs, too.”

  “So then fuck me!” Mary coiled her arms around my shoulders, pushing her hips down to meet mine. “Fuck, Alex…you’re the worst fucking tease.”

  “I’m the worst tease?” I nibbled at the pulse point just below Mary’s ear. “I think you’re worse, by far.” I reached down and opened the fly of my jeans. I didn’t even take them off all the way; I pushed the fabric down over my hips just enough to get my cock free. Mary draped her legs around my waist and I thrust into her all at once; I just couldn’t hold back enough to take my time. I had to feel her hot, wet, inner walls wrap around me; I had to feel the little spasms of her pleasure.

  We started moving together right away, both of us out of our minds with the need to get off. I hadn’t realized how turned on I’d become just from the simple act of going down on Mary; the sound of her moans and cries of pleasure, the feeling of her body tensing and twisting under mine—knowing that I was giving her that, that I was making her feel that way—was almost enough to bring me to the edge myself. I wouldn’t last long; but I hoped I could at least hold back long enough to get her off.

  I felt Mary’s body flexing around my cock in little spasms, and I knew she was getting close. I thrust into her harder and faster, kissing her everywhere my lips could reach, nipping and nibbling every sensitive spot I had ever learned about on a woman’s body. As it was, Mary barely managed to beat me to orgasm; just as I felt her body tighten down in the first wave of climax, I lost my self-control, and everything inside of me tensed as I came. I kept myself moving for as long as I possibly could, but after a while both of us went still and then sagged against Mary’s bed, panting and gasping for breath.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Somehow, we both managed to get ourselves back together in time to leave for the club; I wiped the makeup off my face and put my clothes back on, while Mary somehow managed to fix the smears and sweat that had messed up her makeup in a matter of minutes, and wriggled back into the tight skirt and revealing blouse she’d decided on for the night.

  “You know, when this is over, I want to see you completely naked again,” I told her, looking her up and down as we walked from the car towards the entrance of the club.

  “If we get through this, then the minute we’re back at the house, I’m taking all this off. It’s less than comfy, you know.” I stared at Mary’s ass, perfectly curved in the skirt she wore.

  “Less than comfy, but more than hot,” I told her with a little grin. Mary rolled her eyes, but in the yellow-orange light outside of the club, I could see her smiling.

  The man at the door recognized me. “I heard you were in rehab,” Drake said, raising an eyebrow as he checked Mary’s ID.

  “I got out,” I said, shrugging. “She’s here to keep me in line.” Drake looked at Mary for what seemed like a long time before a respectful grin broke out on his face.

  “If you can do that, then Alex here needs you in his life,” Drake said. “Go on in.”

  “I’m surprised he didn’t ask for cover,” Mary commented as we went into the cool, dark club.

  “You’re with me, and Drake decided he likes you. Cover’s for visitors—you’re practically family now.” I started towards the bar; but then I remembered that I wasn’t even supposed to be drinking. What the hell do sober people even do in clubs? I’d never had the opportunity to find out. I felt antsy, irritable.

  “Want something to drink?” Mary asked me.

  I stared at her. “I thought I’m not supposed to be drinking.”

  Mary sighed. “Water, or ginger ale or something,” she said. “We’ll look weird if we don’t have something in our hands.” I had to agree with that assessment. I told her to get me water, and looked around while Mary went to the bar.

  I spotted a few of Big J’s dealers that I could recognize; it wasn’t like I knew all of them, of course—a guy as big as Big J had more people working for him than I would
probably ever meet. But skinny Alberto, Donald T., and Reggie were guys I knew, and they knew me. I saw each of them take out their phones, but it was impossible to know whether they were texting Big J to let him know I’d come out of the woodwork, or if it was that they were communicating with a client, or what was happening.

  Mary came back with two full plastic cups; one with water for me, and another with ginger ale for herself.

  “You could have a drink, you know,” I pointed out.

  “One, I want to stay alert. Two, I didn’t want to basically taunt you with something you can’t have. It’s fine.” She looked around, her gaze sweeping the room, and I put my arm around her waist; I told myself it was because I wanted to look natural, but it was mostly because I wanted to have my arm around her.

  “We’ve been spotted,” I said into her ear. “Don’t be obvious, but three guys in here have seen me.”

  “Five,” Mary countered, glancing at me. I frowned. “Guy over at two o’clock,” she said, and I glanced in that direction as casually as possible; sure enough, I saw someone watching us—but how did Mary know it was one of Big J’s guys? “Another one at ten o’clock,” she added. I looked in that direction; sure enough, there was someone else, watching us both.

  “What do we do?” I asked Mary. “Just hang out and hope one of them approaches us?” This was the part of the plan that no one was entirely certain about. There were, supposedly, police waiting to spring the trap; but neither Mary nor I had any idea of what the trigger was supposed to be.

  “For right now, we hang out, and enjoy the music,” Mary suggested. “Wait and see if more of Big J’s people come.” She gave my hand a squeeze. “Do not get separated from me, Alex. Seriously.”

  We wandered around the dark depths of Vagabond, hand in hand. I felt like such a tool, sipping my water, smoking a few cigarettes, while I could feel eyes on me from all around the room. Come on, you assholes, someone make a move. Offer me a hit at least. Something. Like a good little boy, I followed Mary to the restrooms. “Stay right here,” Mary said, looking at me with serious eyes. “I’ll be out in two minutes.”