Page 30 of Bonded to The Boo Hag

I opened my eyes, looking up into his blue ones. “I want you to make love to me.”

His eyes darkened at my request. “I want that. I’ve wanted that for a while now. Are you sure?”

“So sure that I’ve taken contraceptive potions for the last month,” I replied, carding my fingers through his blond curls. “You would not offend me if you used protection, of course.”

Gatlin’s hands slid up my hips, his fingers brushing over the straps of my thong. “I haven’t had any other partners since the clean health panel I submitted for the contract, and neither have you, and yours was clear too.”

“I have not had any partners in the last few years,” I admitted, not ashamed, “and we made vows.”

“Not those kind,” he said before drawing me to him. “But knowing we are on the same page is a relief.”

I cocked my head to the side, resting my hands on his white t-shirt. “The same page?”

“You are my bonded partner, Palmer, and out of respect, I had planned to continue to be single while we completed the terms of your contract. But you’ve been my wife since Christmas, and I want an extension on the terms,” he said, his eyes so tender that my breath caught. “I want this life with you, Palmer, and I want to show you all the reasons why we should renew in October.”

I threaded my arms around his neck, feeling overwhelmed, lucky, and so many other emotions all at once that my voice trembled when I said, “You say the most dangerous things to me, pet. How could I not fall in love with you?”

“Oh, thank God,” he said, kissing me passionately before lifting me up. We kissed as he carried us to my bed.

I let go, falling back on the mattress. He followed, crawling onto the bed with me.

His hands gently stroked my legs while he settled on his knees in between them, looking at me like I had all the answers to his happiness, and maybe I did.

“I love you,” he said, leaning down and drawing up my knee, kissing it. My heart beat wildly in my chest at his declaration.

“I love you,” he said again, kissing the other thigh. The warmth in my heart overflowed for this man.

“I love you,” he repeated, lifting my nightie and kissing me above my belly button, and I sighed. Nothing I had ever heard before in my long life was more provocative than those three words.

“I love you,” he whispered, then lifted my nightie over my head. “Fuck,” he said, his eyes tracing the patterns on my breasts before he took his t-shirt off one-handed over his head.

He gave into the moment, reaching out to my chest and cupping my heavy globes, suddenly so tender and aching for his touch.

Then he looked down into my eyes and traced the freckles on my cheeks before saying, “I love you,” and kissing me passionately.

My hands slipped into the soft curls at the nape of his neck, gliding down his back. He plundered my mouth, his tongue offering a tantalizing preview of what was yet to come. His fingers trailed down my skin, reaching the band of my panties and tugging them down far enough I was able to kick them off. I pulled at his sleep pants, wanting nothing between us.

“Soon, baby, I just need to taste you,” he explained, stroking and kissing his way down my neck, rolling my nipples between his fingers and then replacing his fingers with his hot mouth, driving me wild as he divided his attention between each needy peak.

I ached for him to continue south. With every greedy pull on my breast, my clit throbbed.

I cried out when he bit down gently, then blew on the stiffened nub. “I could spend all night worshipping these,” he teased.

His hand slid in between my sodden folds, slick and ready for his cock. I whimpered when his large fingers circled my clit, then thrust down to my opening, barely dipping inside. My hips bucked and I moaned, trying to get him to push his fingers deeper, the incomplete action driving me wild.

“The noises you make. God, Palmer, your responses make my cock so hard. I want to bury myself in you.”

He stopped touching me and I groaned, pushing myself up to see why he stopped my pleasure.

He pushed down his pants, his thick erection bobbing free, and I surged forward the second his pants were off his body, pushing him back, spreading his legs as I swallowed him down.

He hissed, using one hand to maintain balance as he knelt on my bed. The other, he tangled in my hair, wrapping the strands around his fingers all the way to the root. I loved how he held on and pulled as he fucked into my mouth, his salty pre-come flavoring my tongue.

“I want”—he punctuated his words with a thrust—“to come, in your cunt,” he panted, “and fill you, with my come.”

I hollowed out my cheeks, sucking hard as my mouth came off his dick, Gatlin using the hold he had on my hair to direct my mouth to meet his. We fell back on my bed, and he lay under me. I had no illusions I was on top and therefore in control. He directed our kiss as we hungrily bit and licked. It was intoxicating, and without much thought beyond the biological urge to ride him, I wrenched my lips from his and positioned myself over his hips so I could sink down on his thick cock. His hands flew out, bracketing my hips as I seated myself, both of us moaning as his head speared my opening and pushed past that first ring of muscle, spreading me wide.

“I, holy, ah!” he gasped as I strangled his cock with my inner rings.

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