Page 143 of Twisted Ties

He closes his eyes, our bond shimmers between us and an image appears before my eyes. One of the photo I just sent Stone.

“I can’t read minds,” he says. “But the bond allows some limited communication as long as you keep it open. If you do, I’ll always know when you’re in trouble.”

“Okay,” I say, although I don’t know if I’m ready for him to feel every one of my emotions, especially when so many of them are screwed up.

He keeps stroking along my jaw as his hand finds the hem of my dress.

“I didn’t want to leave you. I didn’t want to be away from you. You know the only place I want to be is here.”

He trails his hands up my thighs.

“You seem pretty good with your words to me,” I sigh.

“It’s easier when I’m standing right in front of you.”

He strokes along the gusset of my panties, probably aware of just how wet I am.

“It’s been too long,” he says.

“Yes,” I mutter. Way too long. It feels like an age since he was last inside me. “I talked to the matron.”

“Oh kay,” he says, clearly puzzled why I’m talking about the school nurse while he’s busy sliding my panties down my legs. He follows them right down to the floor, helping me to step out of them, and kissing my foot, then my knee and then the sensitive skin on the inside of my thigh.

“About contraception.”

“We can keep using–”

“She talked about a barrier spell.”

He stands and looks down into my face. “It stops pregnancy,” he says, “but it would mean–”

“You’d come inside me,” I whimper.

His eyes darken and the bond between us smolders. “Come inside you,” he growls. “You’d like that, pretty girl?”

I nod, biting my lip and feeling my cheeks sizzle.

“Shit,” he mumbles, raising his hand and muttering words under his breath, his magic shimmering all around me. “Done,” he says, opening his eyes, his pupils blazing.

And then everything turns frantic. My fingers scrabble at his fly, his yanking my dress over my head. I grapple at his shirt, he rips away my bra.

Then he walks me back against the door, taking a hold of my backside and hoisting me upwards so I can wrap my legs around him. He kisses my mouth and thrusts his cock into me and we both groan, the bond thrumming so violently now I can feel it in my chest.

“Sh-sh-shit,” he says, as he plunges all the way inside me. Here he pauses, kissing my mouth and my neck, my cheeks and my tits.

Then with a pained groan he slides out and fucks me hard.

“Does it feel …” I ask.

“Yes, it does, I can feel everything, all of you. So tight, so warm, so soft.”

The bond glows at his words, like it’s pleased with his praise, and I make a note to go fishing for more of it, if it generates that feeling inside me.

He grunts. “Fuck, pretty girl, I’m going to pump you full of my come. Pump you so full of it, that belly of yours bulges.”

And it’s not only the bond glowing. Now it’s all of me. I like it when he talks dirty like this. The man in black always has a handle on his emotions. But not when he’s with me. When he’s fucking me, he loses all restraint and that tongue of his runs wild.

“You want it?” he asks.