60
ALBY
Ezla turns to me, and a whimper gets lodged in my throat as I freeze up. The men around me disappear as my world narrows down to nothing but my Bonded, and I already know her next words before she says them:
“The same goes for you. I will not destroy you.”
“You couldn’t,” I rush out, voice hoarse.
“But I could.” She pauses, considering her next words, head canting a fraction.
“I will . . . Give me time.” She visibly cringes at herself, at the way she’s struggled to say so many things tonight.
It’s so unlike her to find words difficult, to not have a perfectly put-together response for everything, and I can tell this is all a lot harder for her than we even know.
She’s closed the bond off again as well, which I hate, and it only makes it more obvious that she’s struggling, though she’d never admit it.
“Of course! I didn’t— I wouldn’t ever rush you! I-I don’t even know what I’m doing with all this! I just know that I want you and whatever you’re willing to give—”
“Whatever I am willing to give, slut?”
I snap to attention, cock thickening from where it had softened marginally while I listened to the seriousness of the topic with Ezla attempting to hide her pain.
She’s back in control now, and I’m sure that’s as helpful and calming for her as it is for me to be the one dominated.
“Y-yes.” The word stumbles over my tongue in my haste to get it out.
“Very good.”
She yanks me into her by my collar.
Squeaking, I stare dumbly into her mismatched eyes right in front of me. “You’re so, so pretty . . .” I whisper unsteadily. It’s not enough to say that, nowhere near enough, but my mind malfunctions around her, breaking down to leave only the basics so that I can only function off her desires.
Studying me for a moment, Ezla then leans in, her warm cheek brushing mine, and my breath catches. Her lips brush my ear as she coos, “And you are such a handsome boy.”
Mouth dropping open, my face flames at once. I don’t move an inch, only managing a broken mewl in response.
I’ve never been called handsome before, and while I’m definitely more confident with my appearance lately after all my training and my body receiving the proper nutrition for it, it’s not near enough to have me believe I’m attractive.
But the way she says it . . . it sounds so real and genuine.
Maybe because she never minces her words and doesn’t lie unless it comes to protecting her secrets.
"My slut.” Her tongue flicks my earlobe, and I melt into her like butter on a pan. “It pleases me to know you have never been with another. I should be the only one to touch you in this life.”
I’m a little dizzy with the possessiveness in her voice, my entire body tingly with how special she’s making me feel. “Y-you are . . .” I breathe in a daze. “My only one.”
“Good boy, Alby.”
My hips shift restlessly. “Y-yes, I’m a good boy. Only yours.”
She hums. Before her hand presses over my trousers, cupping and rubbing me lightly, if only to tease me.
I make a strangled sound, hips circling, longing for more. “I-I’m yours . . . I won’t ever be anyone else’s, I promise.”
“No. You will not.”
An involuntary shiver rolls over me at the hint of warning in her words.
As if I’d ever want anyone but her. I’ve never wanted anyone before her, and I’ll never want anyone but her.
“You will be mine forever . . .” she breathes so lowly I think it was meant more for herself than me.
A chill runs through me, and nothing about the sensation is unwanted.
“I will . . .” I rasp, and she rewards me by applying more pressure over the bulge in my trousers, drawing another choked noise from me.
Then velvet and sin slithers through my mind.
Will you give me my cock? Let me take it out, slut?
Whimpering, my huge eyes stare into hers.
I know she pushed those words through the bond, directly to me, so my new brothers wouldn’t hear.
It has both my heart warming and my blood rushing faster in my veins; her questions stoke the flames inside me, and the location of those words forces me to fall even deeper into her.
The love I have for her enlarges whenever she does something so thoughtful, so out of character, her intentions to save me from any embarrassment if I clam up in response to her prompts clear.
She might act heartless, but in times like these, it’s so clear that she’s not. At least, not for us.
“Y-yes,” I speedily reply out loud, voice shaking more than my weakened limbs. “Please . . . I-I want you to touch me.”
Digging her teeth lightly into my earlobe, she tugs, and I mewl, leaning further into her. At the same time, she works on my trousers, and I nervously yet eagerly adjust my position so she can get them past my hips, my entire body blushing further than it already was when my cock bobs free.
“U-uh . . . is it—”
“You are perfect,” Ezla tells me firmly, narrowed eyes daring me to disagree with her.
I gulp, nodding hastily.
But I’m still worried I’m not as well-equipped down there as the others. I hadn’t exactly been measuring for reference, but I’d been fixated on the way Ezla was stretched around Scotty and Tate on each of their turns, and I couldn’t help but notice mine’s not as . . . thick.
Self-consciousness tugs at me, and I struggle not to cover myself up from all the eyes around the room, even though I know the other men here would never judge me and probably aren’t even looking at me, only Ezla.
But what if, when the time comes, I can’t pleasure her right?
What if I’m not big enough for her, to fill her—
You are perfectly well-endowed. Stop worrying, Puppet.
I jolt at her voice in my mind again. Then frantically shake my head up and down once more.
You are long, your girth more than satisfactory.
I’m afraid I’ll accidentally swallow my tongue if we keep talking about my penis.
It will be able to please me just fine. Besides, that is not what I care about most when it comes to you. I am not drawn to you because of the appendage, no matter how pretty it is.
“O-oh, th-thank you,” I manage to get out, hardly audible, half mortified and half elated.
A yelp is torn from my throat as I suddenly find myself sprawled out on my back.
Ezla’s mouth is on me in the next second.
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
The sound that leaves me is closer to a scream than anything else as pleasure crashes over me.
Heat fires through me, every nerve ending ignited.
She’s merciless, as with everything else, taking what she wants and giving me exactly what I need in the process, her tongue running along the most prominent vein up the length of me before she takes me right down her throat.
I didn’t even know my body could feel all these sensations at once, and my release comes embarrassingly fast.
“E-Ezla, I think . . . I think I’m gonna—” My words come out in a jumble, and my gaping mouth drags in as much air as possible as my head drops back. I blindly reach for her, unable to stop my hands from clawing at her hair as I try to get a grip on something, anything, to ground me.
But when one of her fingers trails over my balls and lowers to press against my asshole while she keeps sucking the life out of my cock, I’m thrown over the edge, ears ringing with the yell that leaves me.
For a short while, I’m out of my body, floating someplace where I only feel bliss, a heady weightlessness, and my Bonded.
When I come back, Ezla is licking me clean, and I’m stirring all over again at the sight of her there as much as the feel of her wet tongue moving against me.
My face heats to brand-new levels, both because of how demanding and insatiable my body clearly is, and additionally the gruff mutterings of Tate in the background somewhere I can’t currently pinpoint with all my attention focused elsewhere—he’s been jerking off the entire time, unsurprisingly, hard by every move our Bonded makes. “S-sorry!” I squeak.
Ezla only smirks in that cruel, sexy way of hers. “Do not be, Puppet. I love seeing how greedy my Bonds are for me.”
My heart stutters in my chest at her calling me and the other guys her Bonded again. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it, the way she’s begun to accept us . . . to maybe even return some of our feelings for her . . .
Suddenly, I want to kiss her so badly it hurts, and I scramble to sit upright, tossing my arms around her without thought.
She tenses before forcing herself to relax, then clears her throat. “What . . . are you doing?”
“I—I’d like to kiss you, please . . .”
Her lips tighten. “Alby—”
“Please! I just— It’s just—”
“Do not cut me off,” she snaps, and I halt all movements at once.
Then I start to pull away, knowing I shouldn’t have pushed for so much and starting to feel slightly shitty when she’s already so far out of her comfort zone, and here I am, clinging to her like a barnacle.
But Ezla moves in an instant, stopping me.
“Do you not understand who and what I am?”
“I do,” I whisper, arms tightening around her again. I press my cheek to her breasts, a boldness coming over me, urging me to stay close to her with her clear want for me to be here.
“And you want to kiss me? I have killed countless Evots and Exots. And I love it. I do not regret a thing.”
Glancing up at her, anxiety squirms to life inside my stomach.
“I won’t . . . I won’t lie and say I enjoy the killing—” She tries to shift away again, brows lowering, and I’m probably suffocating her with my grip at this point as I squeeze her to me, exclaiming, “No! No, Ez! I-I didn’t mean it like that!
I love you—every part of you! You don’t disgust me or anything! You need to kill to survive—”
“Do not romanticise it. I would do so anyway.”
“You’d kill a random innocent off the street?” I say hesitantly.
“No. That is pointless and a waste of my time.”
“So—”
“But I would if the mood struck me.”
My lips pop open . . .