Chapter 14 #4
The sensation was a white-hot supernova of pleasure.
It wasn't just the wet, velvet heat, but the ownership.
Each slow, deliberate suck was a brand, searing the truth of his helplessness into his very soul.
Her tongue swirled around the sensitive ridge, and he cried out, the sound raw and broken.
He was completely at her mercy, bound and collared, and the terrifying, exhilarating truth was that he wouldn't have it any other way.
She took him deeper, her lips sliding down his shaft, her hand gripping the base to hold him steady.
He could feel the power thrumming through the leash in her hand, a direct line to his will, and he let it go.
He matched the rhythm she set, to the exquisite torture of her mouth, to the overwhelming sensation of being completely and utterly possessed by her.
His hips began to move, a helpless, instinctive thrusting into the heat that was consuming him, and she allowed it, her other hand coming up to cup his balls, her touch a possessive caress that sent him spiraling higher.
The pressure built, an unbearable coil of need and pleasure tightening in his groin. He gasped, his head thrown back, his bound hands clenching as he fought the urge to break free, to take control. But he didn't. He couldn't. She had him, body and soul.
"Please," he begged at the Amazonian form, unable to fight her, not wanting to anymore, his words a ragged whisper. "Vexta...please."
She answered him by taking him impossibly deeper, her throat working around him, and the coil snapped.
His orgasm ripped through him with the force of a detonation, a blinding wave of pleasure so deep and aching it stole his breath and his reason.
He came hard, his body arching, a guttural cry tearing from his throat as he spilled himself into her mouth.
She held him through it, her mouth milking him, her hand stroking his thigh, a silent acknowledgment of his complete abandon.
As the waves subsided, he slumped forward, his body boneless, his mind a haze of blissful disbelief. But he was still hard. The pleasure had been overwhelming, but the need remained, a deep, aching hunger that refused to be sated.
She eased back, a slow, deliberate smile playing on her lips.
Her eyes held a promise of more to come.
She released the leash, letting it fall to the floor, and then she was moving, her body a fluid grace as she propelled him to his back, straddling his thighs.
She urged his arms up and over his head, grasping his bound wrists.
He looked up at her, at the dual vision of the delicate operative and the iron-hearted warrior, and a fresh, almost painful, surge of potent desire hit him. She positioned herself over his still-hard cock, and then she sank down onto him, taking him to the hilt in one smooth, fluid motion.
He cried out at the searing heat of her, the hot, wet glove of her sheath enveloping him completely.
It was a different kind of possession, a deeper one.
She began to move, her hips rising and falling in a rhythm that was both steady and new, her powerful thighs gripping him as she rode him with a ferocity that matched his own desperate need.
He was lost in her, in the dual vision of the woman who owned him, in the overwhelming sensations of her body taking his, even as he gave to her in the impossible truth of a past he didn't know but felt in his very bones.
The charge ramped again, the golden and blue threads of shared power swirling around them, pulling them into something that had no basis for meaning but felt more real than anything he had ever known.
You're all connected, it whispered.
Then they climaxed into a sea of endless pleasure, frozen in it as it washed over them with unbearable ecstasy.
Unable to understand what was happening, his rational mind gone, he spilled himself inside her, and they collapsed only to climax again as the power detonated with rippling force, the shockwave throwing them against each other as the very foundations of the safe house trembled.
Komodo woke up gasping, his heart hammering against his ribs.
He was on the floor, naked, sweat cooling on his skin, his seed wet against his skin.
The safe house was silent. Mouse. Wren. Vexta.
Two names he knew, and a third…he had no clue.
Must have been his imagination, but every one of them fit the same impossible woman.
He lay there for a long time, staring up at the ceiling, his mind reeling. The dream. The vision. It had been so real. So vivid. He could still feel the weight of her, the heat of her skin, the sting of the collar.
He sat up, rubbing his face, his hands trembling. Why does this feel like something I'm remembering?
The question hung in the air, heavy and impossible to answer. Mouse was just a colleague, a computer expert he despised. But the compulsion, the need, the sheer recognition of it…lived in his bones.
He pulled himself up, his body aching, his mind a storm of confusion, then a sudden surge of hot anger.
She was not going to lead him around by his dick.
No goddamn way. He had no idea what it meant.
Only that the lock and key had turned somewhere far away, and the resonance was still humming in his blood.