Page 82 of Stitched Up in You
Mating bonds can become stronger the longer two parties are near each other and are usually accompanied with anoverwhelming craving to copulate and strengthen the bond, but not all couples are the same. It is no matter. I’ll do whatever necessary to increase her chances at immortality. Perhaps given time, Jekyll can come up with something to help amplify the condition, completely opposite of what I asked him for initially.
“Are you listening to me?” she asks when we’re halfway up the stairs.
“Of course I am,” I lie, adjusting my grip where I hold the back of her leg and coasting my fingers dangerously close to the apex of her thighs.
She squeals, but a sense of wanting flows through the bond.
Hastily making it to our room, I shut the door behind us and glance around the walls, forcing the lights on as I move to drop her gently onto the bed.
“It’s so cool how you do that,” she murmurs, her gaze firmly on the simple lamp on the nightstand.
She means turning the lights on telepathically. “You'll be able to do it too, perhaps.”
Her hair is a coppery red, shifting like a river of lava tracking across the blue sheets. Instead of one shade of red, it's a medley of colors, with strands that catch the light like polished brass. Her expressive green gaze locks on me, and I glance over her plush, voluptuous figure, noticing how the light kisses the soft swells of her body.
I remove the blue spectacles from her face and set them near the lamp as the need to touch her borders on obsession, while I grab the jar of ointment for her body to receive me. Every inch of my being thrums with the burning, urgent need to possess her.
Her gaze drinks me in from where she lies on the bed, her pupils dilating when I whip off my shirt and approach her bare-chested.
I reach out to touch her, coasting my hands over every inch of her I can from the edge of the bed, and swiftly divest her of clothes while my cock hardens.
Suddenly, her hand comes atop mine, stopping my descent toward the most womanly part of her. “You know, I’ve never felt this way about anyone, and my experience with men hasn't been the greatest.”
Pausing, I tell her the first truth I learned about myself. “I’m not a man, Bernadette.”
A sensation of vulnerability crests from her, along with a swift sense of desire and affection. Relief spreads with the knowledge she does have some care for me already.I want to conquer every part of her.
“I know that, and this is all so very crazy and sudden. But I trust you,” she says, flashing me a knowing smile, but there's a hint of tenderness to it.
The words to tell her she’s my mate, that our lives are now irrevocably forged together whether she wants me by her side or not, lodge in my throat. I know without a doubt Bernadette will eventually allow me in and open up because we are the same in that it's difficult for us to let anyone inside. I trust in fate’s pick of my perfect true mate.
I watch as she outstretches her hand, hungry fingers sliding past the denim of my jeans, forcing me to grit my teeth to keep from losing control completely at the soft touch.
“Now touch me,” she orders.
I dip my hand into the ointment and touch her pussy, groaning when my fingers come back slick with her desire, and I quickly push down my jeans and underwear before toeing out of my shoes.
“You’re so beautiful,” Bernadette says, laid out on the mattress as if she’s a feast waiting for my hunger.
Like an arrow through my chest, I realize this small woman has become my entire world and tamed me in a matter of days.Mine.
She’s my obsession, and I will never let her go.
I climb onto the bed with her and trace the delicate softness of her lower lip with one finger before bending to kiss her. I ravish her mouth with kisses until she’s a panting, squirming mess beneath me, and move to brush her lips once more before bending lower.
Every inch of her will be mine before the night is over.
Her hands are hot, demanding more and more from me as they squeeze, knead, and pull at my hair as the bonfire of lust consumes us both.
“You’re the beautiful one,” I tell her, gazing at her blown pupils and flushed cheeks.
Pleasure pulsing in my veins, I nuzzle her breasts, fiercely licking and sucking at the tips, enjoying the way her breath hitches when I scrape them with my teeth. I grip her ass, squeezing, caressing, loving the soft weight of her in my palms before my fingers move to find her slippery, throbbing nub and work it.
Her back arches off the bed with a cry, and she moans my name as I tease and work her folds, grinning to myself when her hands seize and try to grip me to her. Electrical current rises through me and the sound from her lips turns to a wail while she loses herself in my stroking and petting. Finally, I drop down her body, and her thighs clench around my head as my tongue lashes at her opening.
“Oh fuck,” she cries out.
I tease her clit with one thumb and swirl the moisture there, strumming and toying with her until her skin is coated with a sheen of sweat and incoherent sounds break from her lips. I eat,suck, lick, and fuck her with my mouth until she’s a quivering, babbling mess.
