Page 21 of Bonded to The Boo Hag

“Mmmm,” was all I could say, my eyes half-mast. The movie followed Fred to his Uncle Scrooge's lending house. I tried to watch, but things had been so… full lately. The time between my blinks lengthened, and I realized I was fighting a losing battle. I closed my eyes, letting sleep take me.

9

Palmer

“Palmer,” a voice said.

Feeling groggy, I burrowed my head further into the pillow. It wasn’t as soft as it should have been. I started to wake, not sure where I was.

“Palmer, I don’t want you to wake up in the morning with a crick in your neck,” Gatlin whispered, his hand carding through my hair.

I opened my eyes in the dim light. Gatlin was leaning over me, propped on one arm with a knee on the couch.

I didn’t let myself think as I raised my hand and caressed his face. Warmth pooled in my chest when his eyes fluttered closed and he leaned into my hand. My heart tumbled more towards that forbidden feeling when he turned and tenderly kissed my palm.

My intake of breath was sharp, arousal uncurling in my stomach alongside the persistent hunger. I had already fed from him today, so perhaps I should have asked before snaking my hand around his neck and pulling him down on top of me.

It was always a curious sensation, a lover on top. I loved the feel of his body touching mine.

“Palmer,” he murmured, leaning in and kissing me gently, as if sipping on the flavor.

I wasn’t used to gentleness. That is not how I was accustomed to feeding, and yet his gentle exploration of my lips was more erotic than anything I had experienced in a long time. I lost myself in our deepening kisses, Gatlin’s thigh in between my legs, making me feel like I did in my youth. I rolled my hips, seeking friction.

The gray sweatpants had given me a rough idea of what he was working with, but now I could feel his erection, thick and firm against my hip. It made me eager to become acquainted with all of him, however he’d let me.

He pulled the neck of my sweater down easily—five fucking stars for the functional, off-the-shoulder design—and his mouth traveled down, hot and achingly slow, towards my breasts. The clever man found the front closure on my demi bra and popped the clasp, freeing my breasts from the confines. I shimmied my shirt down to my waist and threaded my fingers back in his hair, gasping when he laved his tongue over my nipple while his hand traced maddening circles around the other areola. I squirmed as the lace panties I wore flooded with desire, making the friction of the soft lace trapped between my clit and his thigh delicious. I moaned when he finally put his mouth on the previously teased peak.

He lifted his head, his eyes connecting with mine, dark with lust. “I love the sounds you make. Fuck, Palmer, let me taste you, please?”

I nodded, and he smirked.

“I need your words, baby,” he teased, diving down and sucking on the underside of my breast, the sensation sending a zing of pleasure to my core.

“I want you to taste me,” I commanded and begged in the same breath, sitting up and pulling his face back up to mine for a scorching kiss.

“I want to feel you,” he replied as he pulled back and devested me of my sweater. “Your skin is so…” He leaned in, biting me at the crook of my neck. I groaned and went limp as his teeth closed around a mouthful of flesh.

He released me, licking the tender spot, and I took in a shuddering breath, so fucking heated, I felt like I was combusting. He sat back and pulled his Henley over his head, revealing his cut torso, and my heart sped up faster at seeing all of his skin on display.

“I understand what you mean,” I said, reverently trailing my fingers down his pecs, over a rosy nipple, and down his stomach, which flexed at my exploration. My fingers continued their travels, and his eyes drifted closed, only to snap open again when my hand ghosted along his rigid cock. I met his molten gaze with one of my own, marveling at the impressive feel of him through the fabric.

He tugged my yoga pants down, and I helped him, kicking the unnecessary fabric away. Gatlin leaned down, peppering kisses along the band of my boy shorts before peeling them off and sliding his fingers in between my folds.

He moaned, “You are so wet,” and it felt like praise as he circled my clit, making my hips rise to the occasion. We hadn’t yet discussed my biological differences. I wasn’t sure we’d even make it that far, but thank the gods, like human women, I also had a clitoris.

He stopped and I keened, so keyed up from his attention, I ached at the loss.

“Shhh,” he crooned, spreading my thighs wide and licking me from my core to clit.

Then he feasted.

My hands dove into his hair, the soft curls giving me a hold as I tugged and gasped as he devoured me. He growled, frenzied, putting in such precise enthusiasm that I was overcome with a wave of pleasure that had my toes curling. I moaned low as he circled the opening to my slick channel before sliding a thick finger inside. He took the next obstacle in stride, meeting little resistance as he pushed past the first tight ring in my vagina. Boo Hags had a band of muscles that performed like a cock ring, an evolutionary necessity to prolong our mate’s pleasure. Staving off his orgasm was vital while we rode, collecting lifeforce. Gatlin added a second digit, then a third, the stretch closer to what I craved. His curled fingers easily found the raised skin along the concentric rings my species had inside, the equivalent of a human woman’s G spot; pumping and twisting, he hit every single raised area. Intense pleasure had me calling out as he mercilessly stroked my core. I hurtled towards my orgasm, cresting when he sucked on my clit so hard, I saw stars. I came, my vaginal walls clenching hard around his digits.

“Holy God, the way you are milking my fingers,” he praised, slowly sliding them in and out as I came down from my orgasm.

I panted, trying to catch my breath from what we just did.

Gatlin kneeled back, one hand caressing my stomach while he sucked his fingers clean of my release.

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