Chapter 8
“Sit with your back against the headboard.” I point to the dark wood bed frame in the center of the far wall. The sheets are still rumpled from my restless sleep last night.
A certain grumpy minotaur was the main star of my dreams, and the ache between my thighs kept me tossing and turning. Even my fingers held no relief…
Trust me, I tried countless times, to no avail.
“Bossy,” Luc gruffs, brushing past me as he unbuttons his shirt and slips it from his broad shoulders.
Fisting my hands on my hips, I glare at him. “Do you want my help or not?”
His jaw flexes, the muscle jumping beneath his dark scruff. Swiping a hand down his face, he sighs, but a soft “oui” leaves his mouth, and he positions himself with his back against the headboard, long muscular legs stretched out across the mattress.
“Good.” Clutching the glowing pixie lights in my hands, I cross the room and climb onto the bed. Assessing eyes track my every move from beneath a fan of thick lashes as I straddle his lap and grab his wrist.
I stretch his arm out to the side and bring his wrist—which takes both of my hands to fully encircle—to the post on the corner of the bed. “Are there any rules I should know about before we do this?”
“Don’t go falling in love with me, ma chère. My heart’s unavailable.” The rasp of his words sends a prickle down my spine, but I pay it no mind, focusing on my task at hand. The tiny lights nestle into his luscious fur when I wrap them around his wrist and the bedpost, pulling it tight.
Not too tight, though. I don’t want to hurt him.
I’m not even sure these restraints are necessary, but Luc seems hellbent that he’s going to lose control.
“I think I can manage that, big guy. My heart is unavailable, too. I’m too busy building my empire in the city,” I say, shifting my weight in his lap and grabbing his other wrist.
He grunts when I wrap the lights around the other wrist and pull it tight. “Your spa, right?” His hand flexes like he’s testing how good of a job I did restraining him.
Settling my weight back on his lap, I rest my hands on his wide shoulders.
Like they have free will of their own, my fingers tunnel into the dark fur on the sides of his neck.
It’s so soft. Much softer than I would’ve anticipated from a burly male like Jean-Luc.
I wonder if he uses a special shampoo or something?
“Ness?”
Oh, right! He asked me a question. Clearing my throat, I bring my gaze to his. “My spa. Yes. I’m thinking about adding a second location, but I have to figure out all the logistics first. Anyway, how does that feel? Not too tight?”
His fingers curl into fists and he rotates his wrists, pulling slightly on the binds. “Bien. It will do.”
My eyes flick to his lips, which part on a panted breath. “Any other rules?” Pulled by some mysterious force—or this damn mate bond I’m in denial about—I lean a centimeter closer, until his rasped exhale coats my mouth.
We breathe the same oxygen for a second or two, the yearning building between us and causing my eyelids to flutter in anticipation of his next move.
Lowering to half-mast, his eyes drop to my lips, plush and waiting. “Oui. No kissing.” But the bulge growing in his pants and bumping against my core would speak otherwise.
I can’t help but tease him. Grinding down until he groans, I let my naked pussy drag against the crotch of his jeans.
“As you wish.” Reluctantly, my fingers leave his fur and go to the placket of the flannel I stole from his closet this morning.
Heated and blacked-out with lust, his eyes follow my fingers as I slip each button through its hole. “Ready?”
He nods. When I peel open the sides of the shirt, the noise that comes from his throat can only be described as feral and possessive.
“Do you like what you see, Luc?” The soft flannel falls to the crooks of my elbows, and my hands come up to cup my bare breasts.
Nostrils flaring wide, his eyes stay locked on my fingers when I tweak my nipples until they’re peaked and stiff. “Fuck, mon soleil, your tits are perfect. Small. Perky.” His words rumble through me, bowing my spine and forcing a moan from my throat.
Shrugging out of the shirt, I toss it to the floor. Next, my hands go to the button on his jeans. Popping it open, I peel the zipper over the massive mound he’s sporting. A hiss hits my ears and ruffles my hair, like I’ve released some of the pressure on his poor, aching cock.
“Oh, fuck. You are big,” I mutter when I pull his jeans down and the thick length of his erection springs free.
In response, his chest bounces with a chuckle, but it cuts off with a strangled moan when I wrap my hand around his shaft and give a testing stroke.
Velvety soft and smooth, the shaft is a paler shade of brown than the rest of his skin, with pulsing veins running up the underside and a turtleneck of foreskin surrounding the head.
Mhmm, I can’t wait to taste every inch of him on my tongue.
“Yesss, mon soleil. Put your hands on me. S’il te pla?t. ”
“Begging already? You must be desperate for release.”
Luc moans again when my free hand cups his balls, rolling and tugging the heavy sack.
When I take my hand off his cock, Luc lets out a pitiful whine of protest. “Hold on, big guy. I’m just trying to get your pants off. It’s only fair that you’re naked, too.”
He huffs, but lifts his hips so it’s easier for me to shimmy the tight denim over his tree trunk thighs and down his legs. Underwear noticeably absent, I shrug and throw his pants to the side. They land with a plop on the floor next to the rest of our clothes.
Straddling his lap again, I cup his fuzzy cheeks between my hands and drag his gaze to mine. Black pupils have nearly overtaken his blue eyes, and I’m not sure how much he’s comprehending or if he’s lost to his primal need. “Luc, can you hear me?”
He grunts his acknowledgement.
I’ve never seen anyone in a rut before, so I’m not sure how much of the logical side of his brain will stay working. And I want his consent before we go any further. “I’m going to feed on you again. Are you okay with that?”
He grunts again.
“I need you to tell me, big guy. With words.”
In my periphery, his hands fist, tugging at the restraints. The headboard creaks. “Yes. Feed. Just make it stop.” Each word is forced out through clenched teeth, and his chest saws up and down in labored breaths. Beneath me, his hips thrust up, seeking relief.
“Okay.” As I choke out my response, my own need sparks to life low in my belly. Two kinds of hunger burning. One for blood—specifically his—and one for pleasure.
I take care of the latter, grinding my hips down, his hefty girth slipping between the lips of my pussy perfectly. Like he was made for me.
Because he’s your mate, genius.
Shut. Up.
Ignoring my brain, I focus on the zip of delight in my core when I rock my hips forward and my clit drags along the underside of his meaty shaft. “That’s it, Ness. Use me.” Gravel coats his voice, making the words richer and darker.
I shiver, but work my hips faster. Reaching up, I wrap my fingers around his horns, using them for leverage to grind harder against his shaft. My moans match the grunts falling from his parted lips. It takes all my restraint not to close the distance between us and seal my mouth to his.
No kissing.
Soon, his length is slippery with my essence, and our mutual sounds of pleasure fill the room, along with the heated, sex-tinged air. My clit tingles, and my core pulses around nothing, both eager for release.
Finally, I lose control of my rhythm as light bursts across my vision.
Tipping forward, I change course at the last minute and bury my face in the downy fur of his neck, moaning against the drumbeat of his heart where it pounds in the side of his throat.
My cunt clamps around empty air, crying—no, screaming—to be filled by the giant cock currently leaking pre-cum all over both of us.
I nuzzle my nose against his galloping pulse, inhaling his sweet forest scent that’s somehow already become a source of comfort.
Shush, brain, it’s just sex.
Not wanting to face the facts, I press kisses along his throat.
Luc groans, tipping his head back until it thuds against the headboard.
His cock pulses between my legs, another gush of pre-cum wetting my thighs.
Safe to say he likes the attention. So I continue my path, skimming my lips through the thinning fur on his chest until I reach a pierced nipple.
My tongue darts out, tasting the cool metal that bisects the puckered flesh.
“S’ il te pla?t, mon soleil. Need to come,” Luc whines as I suck the barbel between my lips and tug.
Popping his nipple out of my mouth, I smirk up at him. “And you will, once I’ve had my fun.”
His answering growl vibrates through my whole body. The wood of the bed frame groans when he tugs on his binds, clearly frustrated that I haven’t impaled myself on his cock yet. But if this is my only chance to worship his beautiful cock, I’ll be taking my time. Thank you very much!
Another lick to his hardened nipple, and I drag my tongue along the thin strip of hair that runs down his rotund belly.
Finally, the turgid flesh between his legs comes into view. Angry. Throbbing. And oh-so big.
Using a gentle touch, I pull back his foreskin, the glorious bulbous head of his cock peeking out into the world. A bead of clear fluid trickles from his slit, and I lap it up. I hum when the salty taste of him hits my tongue. There’s a hint of mapley sweetness, too.
Luc whimpers. “More. Please.”
This time, I run my tongue around the head of his cock before sucking him into my mouth. Just the tip. He shudders, the giant quad muscles on either side of me tensing. Oh, he likes that.
Hollowing my cheeks, I suck the sensitive head and drag my tongue across his leaking slit. More of that salty-sweet flavor bursts across my tastebuds. He’s delicious. Addicting. I need more. So much more.