Page 81 of Lost Touch

It’d be so much looser, so much wetter, once he knotted me and filled me with his come.

His other hand landed on my other hip. “Enough.”

I slipped my fingers out and let him pull me back until the head of his cock rubbed against my hole. I rode it a little, rubbing my ass on his cock, getting the tip wet and slippery. It breached me, and I held myself still, panting, quivering with the desire to push myself onto it.

“Jesus Christ, the way you look. I wish you could see yourself, baby.” He tugged me down an inch, and his cock popped inside.

Goosebumps rose all over my skin. I let the hand I’d had behind me drop down to the bed and braced myself on both arms, since the first had started to shake with the strain. I’d barely even noticed. It didn’t matter; only doing what Drew told me to do mattered anymore.

“Turn around,” he said, an undeniable command.

It took me a second to get up again, to move one knee and then the other, holding onto his calves and repositioning myself.

Drew lay back against the headboard and the pillows like a king or a sheik on the cover of a cheesy novel, the kind I thought I’d probably used to read as a teenager. His half-lidded eyes gleamed and glowed, and my mouth went dry. The tousled hair, and the broad shoulders, and the powerful chest, and the lean hips, and that cock…

I couldn’t help myself. Even though he hadn’t told me to do it, I bent down and pressed my mouth to the base of it, kissing up his shaft, inhaling the hot scent of him and savoring the flavor of his skin.

Drew moaned, his hips rising to meet me, one of his hands—now clawless, thank God—wrapping and tangling in my curls.

“Not now, or I’ll come all over your face, fuck,” he groaned.

And then I moaned too, sucking on the side of his shaft, imagining Drew coming just like that, all over me, holding me in place while he marked me up.

Time and space blurred together after that: Drew cursing and dragging me up and onto his lap, his slick cock between my cheeks, my fingers curling into his chest like claws and my forehead on his shoulder, damp with sweat.

I shoved my hips down hard, taking him in one long slide, mouth open in a silent scream as he impaled me. God, nothing should feel this good, nothing should hurt so perfectly. He’d told me I’d be fucking myself on him, but I couldn’t take any control of it: he caught me by the hips and slammed me down, over and over, so deep it rattled my teeth and punched the air out of my lungs.

Drew bent and sucked one of my nipples into his mouth, fangs scraping, mouth pulsing on my swollen flesh, and my scream ripped out of me at last.

I came in long, agonizing waves, everything below the waist clenching tight, and collapsed, limp and wrung out.

His knot swelled in me, irresistible, taking over my body and making me his possession. I couldn’t feel anything else. I didn’t need to. I floated there, suspended between Drew inside me and his arms around me.

He let my nipple out of his mouth, the cool air on my hot skin making me shiver.

And then I felt his lips on my throat, a swipe of his tongue, the sharpness of his teeth. He drew a deep breath, kissed me, and bit.

I’d expected pain, and blood, and to be horrified by the sensation of fangs piercing me.

It did hurt. But when his teeth penetrated me, it felt like being fucked, like having Drew inside me, only doubled: his cock and knot filling me to bursting and his bite completing the circuit, sending shocks of bright heat from my neck down, zinging through where we were joined below, and then up again, until I thought I might be glowing through my skin.

The bond flowed out of the heat and the light, wrapping around and through me, enclosing Drew and me in its silky tendrils.

I couldfeelhim: his joy and his triumph in claiming me, possessiveness and relief and renewed desire, even though he couldn’t possibly have fucked me more thoroughly already. And beneath that, thrumming through both of us, the power of the bond itself, shades of amber and gold and bronze, gleaming and twisting and embedding itself into both of us.

Could I have seen it, experienced it that way without magic? God, that made the magic worth it, because I’d never felt anything so breathtaking.

When he withdrew his fangs, it wasn’t a loss. I could still sense him in me in a way that wasn’t physical at all. He nuzzled and licked the wound he’d made, caring for his mate.

His mate.

Me.

I let my head fall onto his shoulder and smiled into his sweaty skin.

Drew’s mate. His arms around me, his knot inside me, his soft kisses on the throbbing, lovely ache of his bite.

“I bit you in the same place,” he whispered against my neck. “So you’ll only have one scar.”

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