I Belong To My Three Forbidden Masters

Chapter 28: Chapter 28

Drake’s pov

I walked down the quiet corridor into my master bedroom, the heavy door clicking shut behind me as silence settled over the room.

As much as I loathed admitting it, Vesper’s sharp taunts stung because he was right about one thing, Lysander had elicited a stronger reaction from me than anyone else ever had.

I wasn’t in love with him, but the sheer hold he had over my attention was something I had never experienced in my long existence.

Unfortunately for me, I had effectively terrified the human away with how brutal and unyielding I had been during our time together.

Anyone with eyes could see that Lysander was delicate.

The boy practically had ’fragile, handle with care’ stamped across his smooth, golden forehead, yet I had treated him like an enemy to be broken.

My arrogant demeanor and my obsessive need for total control were going to completely ruin any chance I had of ever making him mine willingly.

I hated how instantly drawn I was to him, and I hated even more how badly I wanted to own every single thought in his head.

I had already tried telling myself to let him go, to let the distance dilute this insane compulsion, but I knew it was impossible.

Lysander’s blood was like an addictive poison in my veins.

Resisting the urge to track him down and drag him right back to this bed was going to be an agonizing battle.

From the time I was old enough to understand power, my instructors had drilled a single rule into my head: everything I desired was mine to take, dominate, and command.

My teachers had completely warped my understanding of connection in that regard.

Not that my parents had been any better inspiration.

Before their sudden demise during the border conflicts, they had been revered as one of the most ruthless power couples in vampire history.

They were feared across every territory for their coldness, endless political influence, and complete lack of mercy.

Yet they hadn’t understood a single thing about tenderness, affection, or mutual respect.

They had only taken each other as mates because duty and political lineage demanded an heir to secure the throne.

Outside of official appearances, they existed as total strangers living beneath the same roof, strangers whose cold ambition eventually paved the way for their mutual destruction.

I had rarely seen them as a child, spending almost my entire upbringing under the strict, loveless tutelage of military strategists and scholars.

In hindsight, it was probably better that I hadn’t spent time with them.

They were the exact sort of sociopathic figures who should have never brought a child into the world in the first place.

I stood beside the massive glass windows of my dark bedroom, looking out over the glowing grid of the modern city below.

A bitter taste settled on my tongue as the memories faded back into the dark corners of my mind.

None of that mattered now.

I had resolved a long time ago that I would never allow myself to become emotionally dependent on anyone.

Love was a pathetic vulnerability that left powerful men weak, broken, and easily manipulated.

I would be damned if I ever willingly let a human or anyone else hold that kind of power over me even though the said human was addictive and sweet.

Still, as I stared into the dark glass, I wondered what would ultimately become of my obsession with Lysander.

The rational part of my mind knew it would be far safer if I kept my distance and let him return to his insignificant human life.

But I knew my own nature too well to believe I would ever let him go for good.

Underneath all my icy authority and lethal control was an ugly, possessive need that refused to be satisfied with scraps.

Letting out a slow, heavy breath, I turned away from the window and unbuttoned my shirt.

I just hoped that whatever toxic wreck we built between us wouldn’t end up destroying both of our lives in the process.

My gaze drifted toward the bed, still smelling faintly of Lysander’s lingering sweetness, vanilla mixed with the dark tang of my own scent.

The aching throb between my legs had only grown worse since he stepped through the front door with Darius.

Unzipping my trousers, I pushed them down my thighs along with my briefs, freeing my hard, fully erect cock.

I sank onto the edge of the mattress, my hand closing tightly around my shaft.

I dragged my palm up to the swollen tip, slicking it with my own pre-cum before setting a slow, deliberate rhythm.

Closing my eyes, Lysander’s face burned instantly behind my eyelids.

I pictured him pinned beneath me on these exact sheets, his golden hair messily scattered, his lips parted in a breathless, pained moan.

I remembered the way his delicate hips bucked helplessly under my weight, the way his body trembled whenever I growled his name.

My strokes grew faster, harder, my fingers digging into my own flesh as the mental image consumed me.

I imagined my hands gripping his slender waist, anchoring him to the bed while I filled him completely, forcing him to take every inch of me till I am burned into his soul.

I wanted to hear him sob my name, wanted to feel his tight walls clamping around me as he lost his mind to the sensory overload.

"Lysander..." I hissed through gritted teeth, my voice dark and low in the empty room.

The thought of him back in his stepfather’s house, breathing the same air as Darius, sent a surge of violent possessiveness straight to my gut.

He belonged here, in my bed, marked by my teeth and soaked in my scent until no one else could ever touch him.

My hips jerked upward into my fist, my stroke tightening into a rapid, punishing speed as the heat built toward a dangerous peak.

I wanted his mouth on me, wanted to feel his tongue tracing my length, submissive and yielding to my every command.

I wanted him begging for my cum, looking up at me with those wide, terrified, beautiful eyes that drove me insane.

The friction spiraled out of control, my muscles coiling tight as a guttural growl built in the back of my throat.

With a final, forceful stroke, my body snapped.

A harsh groan tore from my chest as heavy, thick ropes of white release spurted over my abdomen and fingers.

My breathing came in ragged, heavy gasps as I stroked through the tail end of the orgasm, my pulse hammering violently in my ears.

I lay back against the pillows, my skin glistening with sweat, my hand still sticky with my own mess.

Even after release, the hunger in my chest hadn’t receded, it had only grown sharper, meaner, more demanding.

Jerking off to his memory wasn’t going to be enough, and I knew it.

I needed the real thing. I needed his skin, his heat, his surrender.

I wiped my hand clean with a towel, my eyes narrowing as I stared back out toward the city lights.

I wasn’t going to stay away from him.

I wouldn’t stop until I either completely broke Lysander, or somehow forced the human to care about me.

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