Chapter 31
LEAH
It’s not supposed to feel like this. It’s a storm. An ocean. Darker and deeper than the last time he bit me. I can feel the bond throbbing between us, trying to force my mouth to his pulse. I can sense where his skin is thinnest and where he’d most like to be bitten.
There? Really?
My thoughts swirl and scatter at the soft heat of his mouth, at each swipe of his tongue and the greedy suction he creates.
I can feel him everywhere, like sparks under my skin.
My instincts shout that I am prey, and adrenaline trickles coolly through my blood.
I jerk against the chains, my whimpers muffled against the duct tape.
You are trapped. Stake him. I can’t breathe I can’t breathe I can’t—Marcus growls, and his own pleasure flares through the bond.
I welcome it. I open gratefully to his need.
There’s an edge to the sounds he makes, one that’s never been present before.
He sucks—hard—sending heat streaking down my body to pulse between my legs, and I crack in half.
I’m coming. I throb and clench on air. The stretching sensation behind my belly button snaps in a rush. My body twists and arches, and he makes a contented noise in his throat, like all he wants is this. The bond floods through me, showing me his pleasure and echoing it back.
“How you please me,” he says raggedly before he bites me again and the orgasm twists hotter and brighter through my stomach. I can feel how much I please him, how much he likes this. How he hungers for me.
The bond shows me how dense and hot that hunger is. How trained on me. I gasp under his mouth and pull at the chains. He is all control, except for me.
He wants nothing more than this. I can feel how much in the bond, in the tautness of his frame over mine, at how he holds himself apart from me. In how he gives me pleasure but takes none for himself.
Pressure is building in my stomach again. The bond feels like the time I touched Karina’s magic. Like wildfire or sparks, and I feel like I might burn.
I moan against the tape. It comes out muffled and ragged. He’s still feeding, still hard, still tense. I don’t want to be alone in this. I feel like I might disappear into pleasure.
He makes a hoarse sound.
I fumble for the bond, tugging on it.
That does it. His fangs slide out of my neck.
The storm abates briefly, but I still feel hot and restless.
Marcus levers up on one elbow. His mouth is red.
He is monstrous and beautiful and larger than before.
The muscles of his shoulders stand out in stark relief.
I hate that my hands are bound. I want to touch him.
I want to rake my hands through his hair and cup his cheeks.
“What do you need?” He licks his lips.
I arch under him, sending images down the bond of him sinking into me, of unimaginable pleasure.
“Are you—”
I whimper against the tape and jerk at the chains. My body still contains all the unconsummated pleasure of the feeding, of the bond that demands to be sealed.
“Okay. Shit. Okay.” He sits up and fumbles with the waistband of his shorts until he snarls and rips the fabric.
I suck in air. He’s big and fully hard against his stomach.
“Little mate.” His gaze is terrible and wonderful at once, promising and threatening. “I don’t fuck like a human.”
My stomach tugs.
I reach for the shining mental bond. I don’t want you to be human.
He bares his teeth and fists his cock. The muscles of his arms and chest are tense. He pushes my underwear to the side. I gasp at the feel of him, warm and hard against my clit. Warm from the blood I gave him. He spreads my legs wider, gripping my thigh with one large hand.
“Yes?” he rasps. His dick throbs against me.
I nod and moan a “yes” against the tape. The word is barely out before he fills me.
He’s huge. Thick and long, bigger than any human man. Taking him even halfway makes me feel stuffed full. I exhale hard. Pleasure dances across my nerve endings. I jerk against the chains, trying to get closer.
The bond snaps taut between us.
We both gasp.
“Fuck,” he mutters. His fangs lengthen. His gaze goes unfocused. Shit.
Marcus. I bark down the bond. Images are easier. Words are harder.
He shakes his head and rocks his hips. “Fuck, slayer, I can’t. I need you.”
I make a sound of disagreement. His gaze connects with mine.
Something is ballooning inside my ribcage, pushing all the air out of my chest. His eyes widen.
His hands tighten on my hips as his cock swells thicker inside me.
He pushes in another inch, and the stretch ignites more pleasure inside me.
He tries to go slow, and I try to get closer, and slowly, my body takes him until we both moan at the feeling of him bottoming out inside me.
He rolls his hips. I gasp. It’s on the edge of too much, and he isn’t particularly gentle. I’ve never felt like this. I’ve never let go like this, never had someone who could read my body and my mind. Even without words, I trust Marcus completely.
His thrusts grow messy and rough, and the bed creaks in warning.
I urge him with the arch of my hips as I meet the heavy slap of his.
I feel so good. I’m so full, stretched around his length and so wet that I can hear the slippery thrusts.
I let my eyes drift shut. The bond shimmers like spun gold.
Beautiful. Every nerve ending sparks. I want to dissolve into those sparks, let them take me on an ocean of—
“Leah,” he says raggedly. His voice sounds like it comes from underwater. “Leah,” he demands. There’s a sharp pain at my nipple that ignites quickly into pleasure. My back arches at the lightning-sharp feel of it.
My gaze clears. Marcus is looking down at me. Blood trickles from his mouth.
“Eyes on me.”
I nod. His hands clutch my waist.
“Eyes on me, slayer, okay? It’s the bond. It’s trying to seal.”
The words ground me. He rocks me over his cock, slower, then faster, lifting my hips as much as he can and slamming into me. His strength and speed are inhuman. My shoulders cry out against the pain, but it’s quickly buried in the wash of sensation.
My stomach twists, and I cry out, halfway between pleasure and desperation. He growls and fucks me deeper, his mouth going slack and his eyes unfocused. The swelling in my chest is unbearable. I fight against it, caught between his hands, stuffed full, unable to move.
“Let it out,” he says hoarsely. He fills me with each word, thick, heavy, rough. He’s destroying my mattress. Wood cracks.
“Let what out?” I sob the muffled words against the tape, not sure what I feel, only that I’ll burst.
“Your magic,” he grates, understanding me.
I don’t have magic. I shake my head and screw my eyes shut, needing relief, needing something, anything—
“Leah,” he growls. “You have it. Let it out.”
I can’t. I jerk against the chains, sending panicked thoughts down the bond, trying to tell him I’ve tried so many times, that there’s nothing there, that I’m broken, that there will never be anything there.
He leans in, gathers me against his chest as far as the chains will allow, hips slapping mine as he thrusts. His mouth finds my ear and he nuzzles my neck. “Little mate. Let it out. For me.” His words croon softly against my skin, and then he bites me, and I detonate.