Page 122 of Burdened Bonds

He reaches up inside my t-shirt and squeezes at my tit, his other hand sweeping down my body, caressing my waist and my hips.

And I don’t think we need to beg forgiveness from the stars. I think this is exactly what the stars want, especially when he grinds into me and I realize just how needy I feel, my bond going crazy in my belly.

He pinches my nipple and I moan.

“No, little piglet,” he says, his fingers fumbling at the waist of my pants. “You have to be quiet. Like before, quiet for me.”

I shake my head, his fingers dipping into my panties and stroking through my folds. “I can’t,” I pant.

He freezes, the beat of his heart leaping in his throat. “You can’t do this?” he says, emotions crashing across his face.

“I can’t be quiet,” I say, grinding myself against his fingers.

He smirks in that way that’s oh so familiar to me, like the Tristan Kennedy I know so well, and then he winks and my pants are a pile on the floor. He removes his hand from my panties, causing me to pout at him, and undoes his fly, lowering his jeans and his boxers and giving me my first view of Tristan Kennedy’s cock. It’s better than I imagined,and yeah, I guess I have imagined it more than I’d care to admit.

He grips his thick shaft in his hand, rubbing his fist up and down his length. The fuzz on his groin is slightly darker than the locks on his crown, and his cock curves upwards in a way I have enough experience to know by now is going to feel damn good.

With his free hand, he hooks his two forefingers through the front of my panties and yanks them to one side.

“Wet,” he says, and I can’t deny it. I am. Wet and needy. My heart is beating just as frantically as his, and my bond spins with anticipation.

But as giddy as I am, I still have a little of my sense and so I land my palm firmly against his chest once again.

“If you’re using me,” I warn him, “if this was all about claiming another notch on your bedpost …”

He shakes his head, the arrogance falling away from his face and something more real resting in its place.

“You still don’t get it, do you, Piglet? I’m yours. Entirely. Forever.”

And then he’s covering my mouth with one hand and hooking his other under my backside, lifting me against the wall until his cock lines up with my hole. Then I watch, transfixed and giddy, as he pushes his way inside me. He’s big but I guess I’m used to that now. The stretch isn’t as uncomfortable as it was, there’s no sting, just pleasure, all pleasure as he grinds his way inside my pussy, hitting every sensitive place inside me.

I moan against his palm, unable to help myself, and once he’s bottomed out, he leans his forehead against mine, peering deep into my eyes, panting again.

“Fuck, Piglet, fuck,” he mutters.

But as good as it feels, it’s not enough. I need him tomove. I need him to fuck me. I nip at his hand with my teeth, wind my legs around his waist and push my heels against his backside, tug at his shirt.

“Shit,” he says, and for a moment I’m a little desperate, concerned he hasn’t gotten the message. But then, in the next breath, it’s like a fire has been lit between us and we’re all flame and all passion; all that heat – all that heat that’s been sizzling away, sparking and flickering between us – finally combusting, consuming us both. He fucks me hard against the wall, my head knocking on the plaster, his hand tight across my mouth, his fingers sinking deep into my backside.

I forget where we are. I forget this is fucking dangerous. I forget everything but the feel of him, the sound of him, the scent of him and, as his hungry mouth claims mine, the taste of him. I dissolve into him completely, our magic entwining so completely it’s no longer possible to know where mine ends and his begins.

“So good,” he mutters against my mouth, “so fucking good, Rhi.”

“Uh huh,” I moan, as the sensations become too much, too good, too overwhelming, my body winding tighter and tighter, higher and higher, until I come, writhing against the wall, screaming silently into his hand.

“I love it when you come, little mate,” he whispers, “it’s all I’ve been able to think about. How I made you come on my fingers. How beautiful you looked.” He sucks on my throat. “Come again!”

His magic sparks against my clit and it happens again, this time his thrusts becoming erratic, wilder, until, with one loud grunt, he comes deep inside me.

He stays that way as we both float back to earth, catching our breaths.

“Fuck,” he says at last, “fuck, Rhi that was …”

I float in that giddy cloud of passion, in the feel of him. I float so high, loving the press of his skin and the embrace of his arms.

But soon, I’m falling, dropping down to earth, tumbling back to reality.

And now it’s over, now all that raw passion is fading away, the flames of it withering, I realize how dumb this is.