Page 19 of Stormbinder King
Then Jack flipped me against the trunk so my breasts were pressed against the mossy slick bark. I clutched on tightly, desperately.
He stood on the branch next to me, and I felt the whole thing wave in the wind, so he stepped on another, bouncing lightly, and he tapped at my thighs.
Risking a look behind me, I saw Jack balancing like a circus performer between multiple springy, flexible tree branches.
If he made one mistake, he’d plummet to the ground and surely be killed.
I whipped my head around and clutched the thick trunk of the tree, spreading my legs and bracing myself with two hands as his buckle clinked behind me.
His size on the curves of my ass felt even more intimidating in the daylight, with my cunt so sore from the night before.
But when he ran his hand up my back to grasp my hair tightly, I was startled to feel need drip down my thighs.
My tattoo burned fiercer than ever, seemed almost alive, my desire searing through me.
God, itstung.
I gritted my teeth at his size, my legs spread as wide as I dared, but I still could barely open wide enough. His cock pressed past my sensitive walls as he ground me against the trunk.
The urgent, feral need I felt for him took my breath away.
He was stroking in and out of me slowly, nipping at my throat with little sharp bites that aroused me as much as they shocked me.
“More, Jack!” I gasped out, ashamed of myself, but I couldn’t stop the words. “Faster, please.”
I felt like I was going to scream if he kept up this slow, agonizing pace, like I was going to fall apart if I didn’t have an orgasm right now.
What was wrong with me?
My knees crashed into the bumpy mossy surface of the tree, and I tried desperately to get some purchase against the slippery bark.
Jack’s cock split me open and still I wanted more.
He rested his forearm against the trunk, leaning closer to take the soft skin of my neck in his mouth and I cried aloud. I could feel the pressure coiling in my belly, and an unfamiliar tingling sensation in my arms all the way down my fingers.
My tattoo, I thought, and then the pressure twisted so painfully inside me as where I had been bound continued to sting, mixing to create a confusing cocktail of emotions, and embarrassing begs and mewls of need began to spill from my mouth.
“Please, Jack, please,” I cried, and I heard his wicked laugh as his incisors lengthened against my throat.
His pace was steady, even, his cock stroking against all the dripping walls inside me, and I could feel wet, slick need pulled out as Jack drew his cock back, soaking my thighs and streaming down my body to pool in my toes.
I needed to come more than I ever had in my life.
I wanted to be cool, unimpressed, pretend like I wasn’t madly, irrevocably in love with the shifter prince.
But I couldn’t. Each stroke inside me seemed to drive my lust higher.
“So needy, my sweet little mate,” he said. “Not even afraid of me shifting, are you?”
The arms around me turned to silver fur, the hands on my shoulder to claws, curling loosely around my throat, and then I was coming, so hard that my fingers scraped down the trunk until they stung, my release like a claiming flame burning through my propriety.
I couldn’t control my orgasm, barely slowing down before I was heading for another release, pulsing over and over again on his cock.
Jack tightened his fingers infinitesimally on my throat as he released in me with a satisfied curse, and I only wanted it more, wanted him harder, deeper, wilder.
Did Jack fully realize what being a fated mate had done to us?
How it bound us together?
