Page 11 of Forbidden Obsession
We fit together like two halves of the same soul, his body opening for mine, mine filling his, even as he cries out for more. We’ve perfected this dance. We know how to draw out each sensation. How to build the enticing pressure between us to its zenith. How to revel in our shared ecstasy, shuddering on the edge for as long as our bodies allow.
As our rhythm reaches a crescendo and sweat dampens our heated skin, the pleasured gasps and groans Jindal shudders out increase in frequency. My favorite part, and not only for the obvious reasons of our shared release but because his sweet noises make my heart race and my toes curl. I love hearing his bliss, knowing I’m part of it, that we can do this for each other.
Here with Jindal, coming apart in his arms as he vibrates, his cock spurting between us, I know peace. Nothing can touch me here but him. Not the list of chores to be done, not the stress of worry over our future, not the whispers of uprisings in the south. Only Jindal. My lover. My partner.
I’m gasping, buzzing, my heart is racing, and my body is pulsing as I come inside him. It feels so good I have to close my eyes against one sensation too many. Jindal squeezes his thighs around my torso, digs his heels in my ass, and rakes his fingernails down my back, leaving a tingling line of pleasure-pain in their wake. Love that. I bury my face in his neck and inhale. Mmm. That scent. His delicious sweet, woody smell, like cedar and lilac. I can’t get enough.
Slowly, as fevered euphoria melts into warm fading pleasure, we relax. Jindal presses more kisses against my hair. He trails soft fingertips over the nail marks he’s made. They’re probably already fading. He didn’t scratch me that hard.
I ease our bodies apart and call up my magic, bidding it to clear the mess from our skin.
Jindal smiles up at me and swipes my hair behind my ear. The silent conversation between us goes like this.
Good?
So good. You?
Yes. Love you.
Love you too.
We don’t always need words to say what we’re feeling anymore, not after ten years of companionship, love, and trust.
I kneel between his legs. “Roll over.”
His gaze carries a question, but he doesn’t ask it, just does what I say. He shuffles onto his belly, and I straddle him, using his delectable bottom as a seat. Carefully, I push his wings out of my way. He gets the hint and unfolds them, revealing the shimmering pink skin of his back.
I get to work, kneading the tight muscles under my fingers.
He groans. “Oh, Rahz, yes.”
I chuckle. I’m not sure he sounded quite that pleased when I was fucking him. “Sore?”
“I guess I am. I hadn’t realized.”
“You worked hard today.”
“So did you.”
I didn’t, though, not as hard as Jindal. I relied mostly on my magic, whereas he had only a shovel and the strength of his body.
He has magic too, but not like mine. Jindal can cast simple spells, move light objects, call a fair bit of water, and urge seedlings to sprout. Normal things. But me? My magic moves mountains. It can invade minds, though I try not to, and render me all but invisible if I don’t want to be seen. I’m not certain why it’s so strong, with only half my heritage being fae, but it’s sure made my life easier. There are legends of other mixlings such as me, with magic such as mine, but I’ve never met any of them.
What I do know is that no one picks on me anymore. That boon would be enough by itself, but in addition, anytime someone in the village needs any real work done, I’m the one they call. And of course where I go, Jindal goes. So today, I felled trees, cut and modified branches to the right size, moved them into place, and set them in the series of holes Jindal dug as I worked. Together we patched the entire fence in the span of one afternoon. We make such a good team.
He moans again as I work the knots out, moving down the length of his spine with my thumbs. I admire his wings, no longer jealous like I was when we were young, just happy to bear witness to the joy flying brings him. He’s quick and agile in the air, like a butterfly but even prettier. Sometimes I take Magna out for a ride through the country while Jindal races along above us, light as air and fast as a windstorm.
I put my weight into the massage, dragging my hands over his shoulders, down his arms, and back to his neck until every tight muscle has turned to putty beneath my fingers. Then I gather his delicate wings, tuck them in the way he likes, and lie down next to him.
He rolls to face me, his expression dopey as though he’s high off poppy. He’s so cute like this. “Thanks, Rahz.” Even his voice has a dreamy quality to it.
“My pleasure.” Our knees bump as we curl into each other.
He gives a half-hearted push on my shoulder. “Roll over. I’ll do you.”
“I’m good.” Besides, I just want to look at him. I’ll never tire of his lovely face. Those orange eyes stare straight into my soul.
“You sure? Because that was amazing, and you look like you need it too.”
