Page 77 of Beds and Blades

“I am going to learn every sound you make,” he said against my skin. “We have time.”

He was savoring.

He buried himself and stayed there, deep and still, and kissed me. Slowly—the kind of kiss that has nowhere to be, that exists entirely for its own sake. His cock throbbed inside me while he kissed me.

When he broke the kiss, his mouth moved to my breast. The wanting rose in me before I had consciously named it, and the bond carried it to him. His mouth closed over my nipple, warm and deliberate, and the pleasure shot through me.

“Fuck yes,” I yelled.

He groaned against my skin. The vibration traveled through me and transmitted back to him.

The recursion was at work even here, even in this slow, deliberate, unhurried place he had brought us to.

He began to move again. Those long, rolling strokes, deep and thorough.

His mouth moved between my breasts with devotion. He was not dividing his attention among separate acts.

He was doing one thing: me.

Satisfaction moved through the connection as he looked down at me. The flushing, the trembling, the absence of any remaining analytical distance.

Our eyes held through everything that followed. The bond between us was transmitting without filter or management.

“Look at me when you cum,” I gasped. “Fill me. Claim me. I want every drop of your cum deep inside me.”

The hunger beneath the words struck him. I felt it hit him. I felt the last thread of his restraint snap.

His need struck me hard enough to pull a cry from me—the raw certainty that he wanted every part of me and intended to hold nothing back.

His control snapped. He fucked me harder, hips slamming down, cock driving into me with raw need.

When he came, I felt it through the bond before I felt it physically. I felt the moment his control finally broke. I felt the wave of release crashing through the connection and into my chest like a second heartbeat.

And then I felt it physically. The first pulse of him filling me, hot and deep, the sensation of being claimed in the most literal possible sense. Then another. Then another. Each pulse was transmitted at the same moment I felt it physically.

My own orgasm arrived not as a separate event but as a consequence of his. The bond was carrying his release directly into my chest, his pleasure becoming mine, and then my body catching up all at once.

It started deep. It was a slow, impossible tightening that had nowhere to go. Warmth blooming outward. I felt it in my thighs, my spine, the backs of my knees. I felt it in places that had no business being involved and were involved anyway.

I clenched around him involuntarily. I milked his cock rhythmically, drawing out pulse after pulse while I shook and cried out beneath him.

There was no separate experience. There was only the loop. His pleasure and mine. His response to mine and my response to his, spiraling until I could not have said where I ended and he began.

I could feel the sheer volume of his release. Hot, thick, and excessive. A slow, warm trickle of his cum escaped around his cock, sliding out of me and between my thighs before soaking into the sheet beneath my hips.

Skip groaned low at the sensation, grinding slowly into me, pushing his seed deeper before more leaked out around him.

We stayed locked together, foreheads pressed, breathing each other’s air as the last tremors faded. His cock was still buried deep inside me, twitching with aftershocks.

He leaned down and kissed me, deep and possessive, his cock still hard as his cum continued to leak slowly between our joined bodies.

When he finally withdrew, he collapsed beside me, and I laid my head on his chest. Neither of us said anything because nothing adequate was available.

We drifted back to sleep.

The ring glowed warm gold on my finger.

Chapter fourteen