Page 28 of Bound

Slate grabbed her hair with a moan. She couldn’t see how the moan could have caused any true vibrations, but she supposed he liked her noises. Back in the clearing, he had gripped her thighs harder the more she moaned.

She ran her tongue down his cool shaft, following a vein the same thickness as her pinkie. All the way down until she reached his knot. Then, after some consideration, she pressed her lips around the ridge of his knot and sucked.

“Ah.” Slate’s head tipped back. The shadows wafting from his skull mask flexed. His claw stroked absentmindedly against herscalp, and Ruby shivered as she realized his palm could envelop her entire head easily.

He could make me do anything,she thought, and the words were a heady pulse between her legs.And still, he is only giving me what I can take.

Ruby licked and sucked, her hands moving over his cockhead now as she worked his knot. She could feel it swelling against her lips, velvety smooth hardness bulging bigger and bigger?—

“Mortal,” Slate repeated, strained. He tugged gently on her hair. “Lie back.”

Ruby pulled away, confused. “What?”

But before she could worry that she was doing a bad job, he pushed her flat on her back and held her there. His other hand reached to grip his cock, stroking it so fast his hand blurred.

“Oh,” Ruby said weakly. She craned her head to watch and was rewarded by a line of come splashing over her chin. The next rope hit her breasts, her belly, dripping over the hand he was using to hold her there.

That, at least, was warm. Ruby’s tongue darted out to taste it as Slate wrung the last few drops out. It was so salty she thought she should be disgusted. But she couldn’t stop herself from licking another taste off her cheek.

Finally, Slate sagged. His cock softened against his hand. But as he let go, Ruby saw it—his knot was still huge and hard underneath.

Ruby’s mouth filled with saliva once more. She imagined him pumping into her, filling her up again and again as she lay over the ward stone, limp and drooling.

Slate straightened. There was no sweat on his skin, and his chest had already stopped heaving. He lifted his hand, and before he had finished flicking it, his loincloth was back in place. The shadows around his skull mask stilled, and he was the impassive Bygone once again. Calm. In control. Untouchable.

He looked down at her, flushed and covered in come. For a moment, she thought he would say something.

Then he stepped back, bowing his head. “I will leave you to rest.”

“Wait,” she blurted.

He stopped. Of course, he did. For all he held her down, he stopped when she asked.

Ruby sat up, his come sliding off her torso and onto the coverlet. She winced. She would have to clean that before she could sleep.

“Do you really think we can do this?” she asked uncertainly. “Make it fit, I mean.”

“My brother assured me it is possible.” Slate paused. His claws twitched at his side. Then he reached out, and Ruby’s heart thumped as she waited for his hands on her skin again.

But it didn’t come. Slate waved his palm over her come-covered torso, and all evidence of their time together vanished. Her dress wove into existence over her skin, shadows solidifying into the dress she had been wearing before he came in.

Ruby touched her plunging neckline, which was now only damp with sweat. She was happy to be clean and clothed again, of course. But some part of her was upset, and she didn’t know why.

“Rest, little witch,” Slate told her. He turned to leave.

Ruby rubbed her sweaty skin, trying to shake off the stubborn feeling of loss. He had done somethingnice. So what if he hadn’t bothered to touch her?

“Ruby,” she called.

Slate paused at the door. He didn’t say anything, but his head tilted her way. Waiting.

“I like it when you call me Ruby,” she explained timidly.

Slate didn’t move. His bone mask glinted in the firelight.

“Rest,” he said. “Ruby.”

Eight

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