“Jack,” he murmurs against my lips, his voice thick with emotion. His golden eyes blaze with an intensity that leaves me breathless. “You’re mine. Always.”
“Always,” I echo, my voice trembling. I mean it with every fibre of my being.
The tendrils inside me begin to move, pulsing and stretching me further. The sensation is indescribable, a mix of pleasure and pressure that has me trembling. I can feel his cock still thrusting, the ridges dragging against my walls in a way that makes my eyes roll into the back of my head. The barbs pulse with heat, tiny bursts of warmth that send me spiralling closer to the edge.
“Solan,” I gasp, my voice breaking as my release builds. “I’m… I’m gonna?—”
“Let go,” he says, his voice rough but tender. “I’ve got you.”
The tendrils around my cock tighten, stroking me faster, and I can’t hold back anymore. My orgasm hits me like a tidal wave, my body locking up as I spill between us. The intensity of it is overwhelming, my vision blurring as pleasure courses through me.
As I come, I feel a new sensation—a heat spilling inside me. It’s not from his cock but from the tendrils, which pulse as they release, just the ones deep inside me. The warmth spreads through me, filling me in a way that feels impossibly intimate.
And then it happens.
The bond snaps into place, a surge of energy and emotion so powerful that I cry out again, my body racked with another orgasm. A fresh rope of cum spills from me, my oversensitive cock twitching in his tendrils’ grip.
“Jack.”Solan’s voice fills my mind, not out loud but felt. It’s a prayer, a plea, filled with love and reverence. The connection is everywhere, wrapping around my soul and binding us together. His emotions flood me—his love, his devotion, his awe—and I can’t hold back the tears that spring to my eyes.
“Solan,” I whisper aloud, my voice trembling. “You’re… you’re in my head.”
“And you in mine,”he replies, his mental voice soft and reverent.“It is… everything. You are everything.”
I am?
I have no idea how, but though the connection is strange and overwhelming, it feels right. It feels like coming home.
As the tendrils inside me begin to retreat, I shudder at the sensation. My body is hyperalert, every nerve ending tingling as they leave me one by one. When the last one withdraws, I feel an ache—a sense of loss—but it’s quickly replaced by the warmth of Solan’s arms around me. His cock is still inside me, pulsing gently, and I hold onto him, not ready to let go.
“You were made for me,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. “And me for you.”
And fuck if I don’t feel like a sappy shit, but this is what he does to me. Turns me inside out and makes me feel complete in ways I don’t fully understand.
He kisses me then, soft and slow, his forked tongue sliding against mine. It’s a dance, a promise, and I lose myself in it, letting him claim me all over again. His tendrils, no longer inside me, stroke my skin instead, gentle and soothing. Even as my cock softens, they continue to pet me, coaxing every last tremor of pleasure from my body until I’m completely spent.
Finally, Solan pulls out, slow and careful, his sated golden gaze locked onto mine. I wince slightly at the emptiness, but his hands on my hips and his tendrils wrapping around me make me feel grounded.
“Rest,” he murmurs, his voice soft but commanding.
I nod, too exhausted to argue, and let him guide me under the soft covers. His arms wrap around me, his tendrils cocooning us in warmth. The steady beat of his heart against my back lullsme into a blissful haze, and as sleep takes me, my last coherent thought is that I’ve never felt more whole.
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
“Did you hear that time?”
A huff of amusement is Solan’s initial answer. “No, Jack.” He nuzzles my neck.
For the past hour since we woke—still too early for Jamie to be racing around—I’ve been testing the whole “read my thoughts” thing that Solan previously mentioned.
Something clearly got mixed up in translation, which, honestly, thank fuck for that.
Solancan’tsimply read my thoughts, and I can’t his. And if I could, he’d be thinking in Pyronoxian anyway, right? Unless being bonded transcends the need for thought translations. And if not, it would mean I wouldn’t understand a bloody thing. But I’ve been “thinking” everything from the lyrics to “Down Under” to memories on the farm to my days as a trainee firefighter. Each time, what Solan’s received are impressions of emotions—the key feeling linked to whatever I’m thinking.
“Talking” directly to him, however, mind to mind is a whole new ball game.
It took exactly two seconds for me to open up the pathway to speak to him in my mind. The words, the first time and every time since, have reached him in a flash. I don’t know how exactlyI do it, or even what the difference is between random thoughts and speaking to him—intention maybe—but it works, which is bloody awesome.
