Page 15 of Tethered Souls
My pace casual, I reach the treeline. My heart pounding in the tight thickness of my cock, I walk through the woods, control in every step. But then the snap of a twig acts like the starting gun, and I’m full-on sprinting through the trees, following her trail, my pulse spiking with every stretch of my legs.
Branches lash across my skin as I move without grace, but each burn of a cut strengthens my arousal until it hurts to move, my cock strangled by the confinement of my pants. Twigs crunch underfoot, as well as up ahead. She’s moving quickly, running at full speed. My nostrils flare. My lungs burn.
Picking up my pace, I vault over a fallen log. My senses strain as I listen for anyone else’s approach, the paranoia I was forced to embrace forever keeping me company. We are in the middle of the woods, having stopped abruptly. The chances of anyone else being out here at the same time are minimal.
But they’re not zero.
But the only person I can smell is her. The only person I can hear is the little monster running ahead, her footsteps loud in my ears, her arousal leaving an easy trail in the air. I breathe her in, my lungs burning with the need to taste her fully, not just lick her off my fingers, a teasing taste that leaves me with an even stronger desire rather than relief.
I’m closing the distance between us. The snapping twigs and crunching dirt half-frozen under her feet are growing louder. Her scent is growing stronger. And I can almost feel the beat of her heart pounding in my own veins, consuming me, pulling me through the woods like a beacon leading home.
I catch a glimpse of her, a flash of movement. A shaved head ducking around a tree. She doesn’t know which way to go, isn’t thinking about the best path forward. She’s just moving, her adrenaline rushing through her body and out of her pores, filling the air along with her arousal. I want her beneath me and screaming.
I want her on top of me and whimpering.
I want her until she’s too exhausted to move.
Too finished even to moan.
Fuck.
I need her now.
Pulling on the abilities I keep hidden – the extra keen senses, the burst of power, the increased speed – gifts from the gods in exchange for my lack of magic perhaps, I barrel into her. She twists right before I reach her, her own senses honed. She looks so fucking beautiful with the heat in her hooded eyes, the flush of her cheeks, the parted lips with both surprise and desire.
I wrap an arm around her as we fall. My other shoots out behind her to hit first, transferring the energy to me rather than through her. My body presses into her, crowding her into the twig-littered floor. I push my thigh between her legs, and she arches against it. Her fingers run through my short hair and grip hard.
“For being a good girl by wearing a dress and no panties, you get my fingers inside you.” Threading an arm between us, I slide my hand beneath her skirt and push my fingers in as deep as they’ll go. She arches on a whimper.
“For running like a good girl, they get to move.” I pull them out slowly, then push them back in hard. She cries out, her legs falling apart as she trembles beneath me.
“Every time you’re good, I’ll reward you.” I curl them, making her scream. “Every time you’re not…” I pull out of her, and her eyes snap open, looking at me in utter betrayal. I groan at the sight of her desire, but that doesn’t stop me from removing my hand all the way and up to my lips. “I’ll reward myself.” I pop my fingers into my mouth.
Her nostrils flare as she watches me. I stare down at her. Her taste is all over my tongue. My muscles strain tight as my fingers dig into the cold earth beside us. “You’re not to come with my head between your legs,” I say.
She gasps as I shuffle down. Sitting up, she starts, “I’ve not shaved –”
“I am aware.” And it’s making my cock hard, knowing she has no one else, doesn’t even think about the possibility of another. No crush she’s hung up on. No hope that she might run into them. No one else butme.
I need her beneath my tongue already, but I take my time dragging the fabric of her dress up her skin, feathering it across all the fine hairs on her thighs. She sucks in a breath as I lower my head to her stomach and press a kiss to her abs.
She squirms, crunching twigs as I trail my mouth lower. The warmth of her inner fire runs through her veins and caresses my lips. Her fingers tighten in my hair, urgent and demanding but I take my time, learning every inch of her skin, every magical tattoo she has on her stomach, the buzz of power beneath the ink making my lips tingle. I pause over a terribly drawn smiley face on her left hip. It looks to have a cock for a nose, and it clearly wasn’t done for the purpose of making a spell easier to use. Nor was it done professionally. Perhaps a friend did it…
A growl builds in my chest as I think about aboyfriend being that close to her, touching what’s mine, becoming too fucking familiar with her skin, even if it’s just the side of her hip, above her pants line.
The ink is faded, done a long time ago. When she was a teen, and he was horny? Did he have an erection while he touched her? While he placed his fucking hands on her body? Did he go back home and jack off to what ismine?
Snarling, I lean forward and bite that damn tattoo. It’s not a gentle nip. Not a love bite. It’s feral and possessive and causes her to jerk on a sharp inhale. I swipe my tongue across it, soothing away a bit of the pain, and suck hard. She groans, her hands pressing me to her, but there’s a tightness to her grip, a wariness like she’s ready to pull me off at a moment’s notice.
I don’t like that. I don’t like that at fucking all. “Spread your legs wide and keep your hands above your head.”
She hesitates, and my eyes narrow as I raise my head to look at her. Then she’s lifting her arms, bending them at the elbow like a good little girl. The tightness in my chest eases a little, and I move away from the tattoo I’ve covered with my bite mark and hickey.
I place another kiss on her stomach, right above her belly button. Settling between her thighs, I run my hands up and down them. She shivers. A moan escapes her parted lips, and I frown, trying to figure out how I can taste her and see her face at the same time. I want to watch her come undone. I want to learn what she likes. The way her cheeks darken, the way her eyes grow heated. I want to memorize every note she hits, the highs and lows, the gasps and whimpers that tell me she’s close.
My cock grows wet with precum, pulsing hard on the verge of release. Dipping my head, I look at her pussy. Its lips are hidden beneath black curly hair, keeping what’s mine secret and safe from the eyes of others. It’s like a wrapped gift, all ready for me to open, and I trail my hands up her thighs as I look at her. My fingers skim through the arousal soaking her, and I breathe in deep as she whimpers and spreads her legs even wider.
I stop, my hands stilling as my shoulders tremble from the force of my control. My orgasm sits tightly wound in my balls, begging for release. Ready to go without even being touched.
