Page 18 of Bonded to The Boo Hag

Slow down, man.

Palmer’s hand traced the side of my face. “The lust should wane within the next few hours; I’m sorry I came on so strong. I don’t usually do the exchange quite like this.”

“Selfishly, I am glad to hear that,” I rumbled, my eyes locking with her steely orbs.

She wrinkled her nose at me playfully. “You are bonded to me, so you have that right, I suppose.”

I made a sound of agreement. “That reminds me.” I shifted. Palmer made the move to stand, and I felt a wave of irrational anger at the thought of her leaving me. I blamed the extra dose of lust when I wrapped my arms around her, encouraging her to stay.

She sighed, laying her head on my shoulder. “What reminds you?”

“Why is everyone calling me Mr. Duvall? Shouldn’t they be calling you Mrs. Rose?” I asked, leaning into this new possessive feeling.

“It’s a Boo Hag proclivity. Well, a lot of monsters who form bonds are from matriarchal societies, so I suppose it's also a monster trait. My name is Merewynn Palmer Ruth Fortunato Duvall––Fortunato is my father’s last name. Duvall is the name my Boo Hag family adopted when we lived in Europe. Because you are bonded to me, you take my last name.” She played with my lapel. “It's only temporary, Gatlin.”

I made a noncommittal noise in the back of my throat. “Have you eaten enough tonight?”

I felt her kiss the underside of my chin, her breath warm against my skin. “Yes, thank you. I feel a lot better.”

“Do you want to go home, er, to the estate?” I asked, feeling my ears heat at my slip.

Palmer shifted, reaching for her phone, amusement glittering in her eyes. “Yes, let's go back to the estate.”

She climbed from my lap, holding out a hand to help me rise. I stood, and Palmer’s eyes widened before she whirled around. I adjusted my pants to better hide the obvious tenting in my slacks. I couldn’t blame Palmer‘s magic for all of the lust running through my body.

I walked around her, my hand skimming the skin of her lower back and coming to rest there. “I should have said earlier, you look fucking fantastic this evening.”

“I know,” she said, sounding pleased.

We walked together through the hallway past a smirking Sydney, the haint who had shown me every single VIP room with glee on my first visit to the VIP seating area. Drake met us at the stairs and escorted us around the dance floor and out the side entrance by the bar. Back through the stockroom we went, then exited out the side into an alley. There, Isaac waited with the door already open to Palmer’s black SUV.

“How did you get here?” she asked.

I lifted my hand from her back, encouraging her to slide in first. Once situated in the back seat, I noticed she had left a large gap between us.

“I stole your Harley. I have my motorcycle license.” I felt the anger rise again at the thought of Attwater’s hands on her. “I don’t regret stealing the keys.”

“They are your keys too, Gatlin. What is mine is yours,” she replied, turning towards the window.

Isaac looked back at me, and I nodded my thanks. He left the garage unlocked tonight, I assume on purpose, giving me the ability to steal the Harley in the first place.

“You told me not to wander off the estate, but your wolves must have realized what I was doing because the whole pack flanked me until I was out of the reserve,” I assured her. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more careful.”

“But you’re not sorry for endangering yourself in the club?” she questioned, still looking out that damn window.

“No.” Done with the distance I knew I had created, I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her body to mine. “It's not just the lust, Palmer,” I murmured.

I looked down at her and watched a smile play across her lips as she settled onto my chest for the ride back to her estate.

Hours later, I stood in my bedroom looking out the window over the moonlit hedge maze. I was still thinking about the night’s events. After we got home, Palmer and I said goodnight. I tugged her into a hug, and though it was quiet, I heard her sigh before letting me go.

I’ve thought she was touch-oriented from the start. She’ll probably never ask for it, but she wants affection. I can give her affection, hell I miss–– When was the last time I had a beautiful woman on my lap?

I walked away from the window, letting the curtain fall back, cutting off the moonlight. I undressed, throwing my shirt into the hamper, followed by my slacks. My erection was still going strong. Part of it was giving her the lifeforce earlier, but I was man enough to admit that damn outfit was the other part. The way the leather caressed her body––

I shucked my boxer briefs, taking my cock in hand and giving it a stroke as I walked into my bathroom. I hit the lights, then hit the switch to turn on the shower and adjusted the water temperature to hot.

My mind fixated on the tight leather outfit she wore and the way she felt on my lap, pre-come leaking from the tip as I finally got under the shower’s spray. I replayed in my mind the way she felt on my lap, how her breasts felt against my chest.

---