Page 72 of The Bond That Burns

His pale gold hair was wet and damp against his forehead, curling a little at the ends. Droplets of water still clung to his skin, catching the light and turning his torso into a living canvas of ivory and ink.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Every line of his body was precisely crafted, maddening in its perfection. The faint sheen of water on his skin made him seem like some wild creature, caught in a vulnerable moment. His usually sharp features were unguarded in a way I’d rarely seen them. The tension that always bristled beneath his skin was temporarily gone.

Slowly my eyes dipped lower, fastening on the trail of light blond hair that led down his ribs and stomach and formed a slight triangle at hip-level.

My heart thudded in my chest. If he caught me... I couldn’t even imagine what he’d say if he knew I’d seen him like this.

I started to turn, my face burning.

Blake sighed. I froze. Then, slowly, I turned back.

He’d slipped a hand down his body and lazily curled it around his cock. His eyes were closed.

Oh, shit.

I couldn’t look away.

He was long and hard. Bigger than I’d imagined. And yes, I’d imagined. I’d been with boys before but Blake put them all to shame.

Were all highblood men like this? Or was he a special case?

My throat was tight as I watched as his hand wrap around himself. Slowly he started to stroke his cock up and down, almost absent-mindedly.

The scene was incredibly intimate and I was very much an intruder. A wave of shame washed over me. But I was so turned on I could hardly move.

I felt trapped. Knowing I should run, knowing I should look away, but knowing I might never get another chance like this—to see this side of Blake again.

I watched his hand slip up and down his cock, the motion practiced, experienced. I wondered who he was thinking about.

Was it Regan? Or that girl, Camilla? Had they...? No, I didn’t want to think about it. Not now.

My eyes were glued to the sight of his hand riding his cock harder and faster. There was something incredibly erotic about watching him touch himself. I couldn’t take it anymore. With only a split-second’s hesitation, I slipped a hand inside my pants.

I closed my eyes, biting my lip. I was as wet as I’d known I’d be. My underwear was soaked through, my thighs damp.

I hadn’t thought I’d missed that highblood asshole. But now, seeing him there, buck naked, pleasuring himself like that. It was too much to bear.

My eyes still on Blake, I slid my fingers over my clit and the contact was incredible. I let out a moan.

My eyes popped open. Shit. Had I moaned aloud or just in my head?

It didn’t matter. Blake was still going at it. He hadn’t noticed me.

My hand stilled, I stood frozen in indecision. This was dangerous. I could run out of his room while I had the chance, or I could watch him finish bringing himself to completion while I kept doing what I was doing. One of those things was a hell of a lot more tempting than the other.

I rubbed my clit again and bit my lip. Watching him touch himself was amazing. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. My body felt tight. Pent up and tense with longing.

Was he close? Was he going to come before I could?

I took a deep breath and sank a finger inside myself, imagining it was Blake’s, remembering that horrible, wonderful, terrible night in the Sanctum when his hands had been all over my body, inside of me, filling me, taking me.

What would he do if he found me now? Would he punish me?

Part of me almost wanted him to.

Blake let out a groan and my eyes popped back open, watching his hand skim over the head of his cock. He was close. I could tell. His beautiful lips were half-parted in a pant.

“Fuck, Pendragon,” he groaned, his voice low and rough as he stroked himself faster. “Yes... fuck.”

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