Page 19 of Bonded to The Boo Hag

Lust continued to throb throughout my body as I worked myself tip to root and back, squeezing my shaft roughly. Then I fantasized about things that didn’t happen, like her on her knees looking up at me with those beautiful silver eyes, her deep red lips surrounding my shaft, her long black hair wrapped around my hand as I fed her my cock.

Pleasure built along my back, condensing in my spine as I imagined hitting the back of her throat, and I wondered what it would feel like to come in her hot, velvety mouth.

That thought sent me over the edge. With a grunt, I orgasmed, my release shooting against the wall of my shower, my vision going gray at the edges.

I leaned against the wall, my cock at half-mast already, and I could tell it would be a while before I fully worked through the desire.

8

Palmer

Attwater was suspended from the council after my report was made. The council enforcers were investigating the incident, and a formal hearing was scheduled. I was pleased with this, for now, but I had a feeling that no matter what we did, Attwater would keep popping up again like a bad rash.

Gatlin and I took a step back after the club incident. I didn’t shy away from feeding gently from Gatlin, but I still fed from other people I had agreements with. This helped me mentally. While I wasn’t assuming what happened between us was a green light for more carnal delights, it made his new actions more meaningful when I knew they weren’t fueled by manufactured desire.

Suddenly, there were little touches throughout the day, kisses on the top of my head whenever he entered a room where I happened to be seated, and requests to spend more time after my workday talking and getting to know each other while we helped the staff prep the house for Christmas. For two maddening weeks.

And someone kept hanging mistletoe every-fucking-where.

“It’s like you two are dating,” Pru had teased this morning while she hung an unnecessary Christmas wreath in my office. “I suppose it makes sense, what with you jumping the gun and getting married first. Now should be the time you learn about one another outside of the bonding contract.”

Which is why I shouldn’t have been surprised when Gatlin asked if we could watch a movie together this evening. The look of shock on my bespelled face made him grin. Maybe getting one over on someone my age was appealing, but after he received my stammered, “Yes,” he swooped down, kissing my cheek and whistling fucking “Good King Wenceslas” as he left.

Which is why I didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty watching that fine ass of his walk out of my study.

I reflected on all of this as I nervously changed. I had left him behind today when I went to take care of business with the Nyxian Council before our week-long holiday. Another poor soul like Gatlin had been turned away by those self-righteous angelholes on the Aetherian Council. It being the season of the Lord didn't seem to sway the bastards. I seethed as I washed my face, my red skin glowing in the warm light of my bathroom mirror.

They used the same blanket excuse for this case that they gave Gatlin. They claimed the petitioner’s “futures at present were not showing them to be key players in keeping the world in balance.” They weren’t overly good or terrible people—they sat directly in the middle and didn’t intersect with anything fated, therefore they were cosmically useless. Petition denied.

I fumed as I blotted my face dry with a towel. And they care even less if you have the misfortune to be born of a monster.

We hadn’t decided to help yet; unlike those pricks, we actually took the time to deliberate and research if we even could help them.

I threw my towel aside, completing my normal skin routine, and then slipped on my ring that held my glamour. I watched as the shimmer fell over my body, concealing my red skin and naturally silver hair.

My stomach felt fluttery again, the anger leaching away as I thought about tonight. I realized I was nervous, which was silly. How is a movie any different from sitting and talking for hours? It’s less intimate an action.

Except, well, it felt like more. Which was foolish, but that didn’t keep me from going to my closet and putting on a pair of soft black lace boy shorts and a matching demi bra. I pulled an off-the-shoulder purple sweater over my head and shimmied into some low-slung black yoga pants. My abs were real in either form, and I was proud of their definition. Also, I had noticed how often Gatlin’s fingers seemed to skim my waist.

Running my fingers through my thick hair on my way out of the closet, I turned back to my bathroom to apply another layer of lip balm.

Halfway to the door of my room, I stopped. This is nothing more than two people who have to coexist having a nice evening together because they care about each other’s stress levels. That's it. I had hoped… But it doesn’t matter. I’m lucky my gamble was with someone so kind as he.

With this sobering thought, I slipped barefoot out of my room and across the wood floor. I followed the hallway past Gatlin’s suite and took the stairs down to the ground floor, then through the house to the den.

My staff used this room much more than I did. In an effort to move with the times, I’d decorated it in a more modern style than the rest of the house. We’d stripped the wallpaper away from the plaster and painted the walls a deep sienna. A large entertainment area was set up along one wall with a screen that came down from the ceiling. My DVD collection was prominently housed on four large bookshelves on either side of the big screen, and the multi-media home entertainment system was connected to all the current streaming services. The seating area could sit twelve comfortably; the fluffy off-white u-shaped sectional was low to the ground, purchased mainly for the softness alone. The indirect lighting from the sconces was warm and dim, with the large modern glass chandelier producing the bulk of the light for the room. All in all, it was an inviting space, but I still preferred the quiet comforts of a simpler time.

I entered to discover that Pru had worked her magic in here, too. Literally, from the looks of it. Christmas garlands were hung high on the walls, and the whole place was wrapped in lights and festooned with holiday knickknacks. The Christmas tree was set up, overly full with decorations this year, which I secretly liked, and a few presents waited underneath. Even the large wooden coffee table had a cheesy, cotton-ball-looking snowman holding a sign saying “Let it Snow.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. We were in South Carolina; it would do anything but.

Gatlin had orchestrated dinner as our staff had tonight off. I spied two boxes of pizza, a pitcher of dark-colored cola, and a bucket of popcorn waiting for us on the coffee table, along with paper plates, cups, and napkins.

Gatlin stood, aiming the remote at the screen, flipping through one of the streaming services. I let my eyes travel slowly up his muscular body. He had on gray sweatpants. I had heard that they were a phenomenon—something about how men looked in them. They showed off his ass but not as well as his jeans. His forearms were delicious, framed by the pushed-up sleeves of a forest green Henley and sporting a dusting of hair, the veins flexed and visible as he swiped through the movie selections.

I cleared my throat, walking the rest of the way into the den.

Gatlin turned and smiled at me. “I was just looking at the movies. I wasn’t sure if you were up for a holiday movie marathon?”

“Oh, uh. I do enjoy Christmas movies.” I dragged my eyes above his waist. I understood. Gray sweatpants should be illegal. His chest wasn’t safe to look at either; with the top buttons undone on his shirt, I could see a tantalizing strip of skin I had the urge to lick. I didn't know where to look, but when my eyes finally locked with his, the knowing smirk on his face let me know my perusal had not gone unnoticed.

---