Page 59 of Stormbinder King
With a hiss, he snaked a hand around my belly and I gasped as it came into view. Half-man, half-wolf, corded muscles with sharp claws extending from a hairy hand.
The claws tore through my shirt, and he took a handful of my breast, the claws digging into my flesh as they closed over my sensitive nipple.
I gasped, feeling unwilling slick heat flooding into my channel, and Symeon pressed his cock further in.
My hands were inches deep in the forest floor, gripping onto a root, as my body burned, split open and spread as wide as I could to accommodate his monstrous girth.
I smelled burning flesh everywhere he touched me, Jack’s spell spitting, furious, trying to burn the King off my body.
But Symeon would not let go.
The pressure building in my belly was unbearable and the King sunk his long, lupine fangs in my throat again, instantly hitting a spot that made my knees go weak.
I couldn’t tell if it was pain or pleasure, and I began to feel flashes of what I realized with a shock of horror must be the Alpha’s King’s sensations.
I couldn’t catch what he was actually thinking, only what he was sensing, scenting my own deep plum scent through his body like it was through my own.
What would happen with my tattoo?
It was throbbing, sending anchoring waves of pain through my shoulder and back.
For a moment, I thought I would faint with it.
The tip of his cock felt like it split my cervix, and I arched my back in agony and ecstasy as he dragged his cock through my tensed and dripping muscles.
Then he began to suck where he had bitten, gulping my blood in his mouth and I came hard, almost blacking out with the speed of my release.
Mine mine mine mine mineroared through my senses as Symeon’s thoughts invaded mine. My hips were numb with how hard he was gripping them, and with one final hard yank, he released inside me, long, heavy pulses of hot shifter cum, splattering in my insides and dripping down my thighs.
I lost consciousness and when I came to, I screamed, tearing myself off his cock.
Shaken, I scooted desperately away from him.
I did not want to know his thoughts. I did not want to feel his craving for my scent.
“Do not ever touch me again,” I hissed at him.
“Andromeda—” Symeon began, his voice sounding choked and strange, but I ignored him.
What about the spell?
I twisted around to look at my tattoo, but it was still there, jet black, dangerous swirls, glittering eye of the wolf. Painted, marked, cursed.
“Andromeda—I can—feel your heartbeat in—my chest--” he began again, but I cut him off.
“I only did that to break the spell. And it didn’t work. There’s nothing else to say.”
And as I straightened up and faced back to the village, I felt the familiar pulse deep inside me, even as my fated mate’s cum leaked down my legs.
Jack
Jack
Jack
17
My disappointment was bitter the next morning when nothing happened.
