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Authors: Tracy Tappan
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circumference of his shaft as she rode down him. A small explosion of ecstasy went off in his pelvis and blasted down his legs. He shook all over, nearly crying out in pleasure as she started to pump up and down again, her pearlescent labia flexing tightly around his cock on each plunge.
It’s only a porno movie . It’s not my own dick . But it didn’t work. It just felt too fucking good. She was all silky heat and snug inner muscles, and—as she’d obviously planned—seeing that hot kooch of hers work his member was too much. His orgasm shot up from his nuts and through his cock like a geyser, as unstoppable as water from a broken dam. Every muscle in his body went rigid, his hips straining upward on their own. His seed erupted into her, and he gave a hoarse shout, the feelings of pleasure so powerful and intense, he actually grayed out a little. Panting and groaning, he slumped back onto the lumpy mattress, his wrists sagging at the cord.
Pändra slid herself off his cock. “Well, that was a rum go.” She swung her leg over, as if dismounting a horse, and hopped off the bed. From the corner of his half-mast lids, Thomal saw her scoop up her clothes. “All righty, brother dear.” She stepped into her skirt and jammed herself into her top. “Let’s leave the vamps. I have a craving for tequila.”
The two Topside Om Rău left, and the door swung shut gently, like they were trying not to wake a baby. There was a muffled conversation in the hall, probably Pändra with her lowlifes. A moment later, two car engines roared to life, then faded away.
Thomal stared at nothing, trying to locate his reason and some energy. Time spun out, filled by the steady plink - plink of a leaky faucet in the bathroom and an annoying electrical whine coming from the TV. A sleazeball in another room down the hall asked a working girl, “Hey, tootsie, how much for a hum job?”
Thomal heard Arc swallow. “This is bad.”
He didn’t look at his brother. Arc had just seen Thomal get ridden like the Pony Express, and on a scale of one to ten that ranked about an eleven on embarrassing and a twenty-five on mondo bizarro. “I’m sorry,” he said. He’d tried his best not to come.
“Don’t you dare apologize for what that whore did to you,” Arc blared back, his voice oddly both ferocious and quavery.
Thomal traced a water mark on the ceiling. The side of his face ached relentlessly.
“Do you think you can get loose?” Arc asked after another long pause. “The key to my shackles is over there on the table.”
“I should be able to.” Thomal hauled in a breath, and in a burst of focused power, he pulled inward simultaneously with all four limbs, snapping the bedposts. One smacked his shin as it flew across the mattress, and he growled. Sitting up, he chewed the bindings off one wrist, untied the other, then untangled the cords from his ankles. He rose to his feet, feeling both a little unsteady and like he was thrumming with more power than he’d ever known. Another psychiatric mind-fuck, knowing that his newfound strength came from Pändra’s Fey blood. He finally glanced at his brother.
There were deep gouge-marks around Arc’s neck from the telephone cord, blood and swelling and bruising. But nothing was as bad as his brother’s expression. Arc knew exactly where this little incident left Thomal, although he wouldn’t say it. No way. Saying it out loud would make it too real for either of them to handle.
Thomal grabbed his jeans and staggered as he dragged them on. His legs felt like slush, and his depth perception was shot to hell by his injured eye, already crusted over with blood. He moved over to the table and braced his palms flat on top of it, the key blurring before his vision. His arms shook violently. “Shit,” he hissed. “Sh-shit. What…?”
“It’s bonding withdrawal,” Arc explained. “Your cells are making the biological change into being a bonded male, but your mate’s not here to
It’s only a porno movie . It’s not my own dick . But it didn’t work. It just felt too fucking good. She was all silky heat and snug inner muscles, and—as she’d obviously planned—seeing that hot kooch of hers work his member was too much. His orgasm shot up from his nuts and through his cock like a geyser, as unstoppable as water from a broken dam. Every muscle in his body went rigid, his hips straining upward on their own. His seed erupted into her, and he gave a hoarse shout, the feelings of pleasure so powerful and intense, he actually grayed out a little. Panting and groaning, he slumped back onto the lumpy mattress, his wrists sagging at the cord.
Pändra slid herself off his cock. “Well, that was a rum go.” She swung her leg over, as if dismounting a horse, and hopped off the bed. From the corner of his half-mast lids, Thomal saw her scoop up her clothes. “All righty, brother dear.” She stepped into her skirt and jammed herself into her top. “Let’s leave the vamps. I have a craving for tequila.”
The two Topside Om Rău left, and the door swung shut gently, like they were trying not to wake a baby. There was a muffled conversation in the hall, probably Pändra with her lowlifes. A moment later, two car engines roared to life, then faded away.
Thomal stared at nothing, trying to locate his reason and some energy. Time spun out, filled by the steady plink - plink of a leaky faucet in the bathroom and an annoying electrical whine coming from the TV. A sleazeball in another room down the hall asked a working girl, “Hey, tootsie, how much for a hum job?”
Thomal heard Arc swallow. “This is bad.”
He didn’t look at his brother. Arc had just seen Thomal get ridden like the Pony Express, and on a scale of one to ten that ranked about an eleven on embarrassing and a twenty-five on mondo bizarro. “I’m sorry,” he said. He’d tried his best not to come.
“Don’t you dare apologize for what that whore did to you,” Arc blared back, his voice oddly both ferocious and quavery.
Thomal traced a water mark on the ceiling. The side of his face ached relentlessly.
“Do you think you can get loose?” Arc asked after another long pause. “The key to my shackles is over there on the table.”
“I should be able to.” Thomal hauled in a breath, and in a burst of focused power, he pulled inward simultaneously with all four limbs, snapping the bedposts. One smacked his shin as it flew across the mattress, and he growled. Sitting up, he chewed the bindings off one wrist, untied the other, then untangled the cords from his ankles. He rose to his feet, feeling both a little unsteady and like he was thrumming with more power than he’d ever known. Another psychiatric mind-fuck, knowing that his newfound strength came from Pändra’s Fey blood. He finally glanced at his brother.
There were deep gouge-marks around Arc’s neck from the telephone cord, blood and swelling and bruising. But nothing was as bad as his brother’s expression. Arc knew exactly where this little incident left Thomal, although he wouldn’t say it. No way. Saying it out loud would make it too real for either of them to handle.
Thomal grabbed his jeans and staggered as he dragged them on. His legs felt like slush, and his depth perception was shot to hell by his injured eye, already crusted over with blood. He moved over to the table and braced his palms flat on top of it, the key blurring before his vision. His arms shook violently. “Shit,” he hissed. “Sh-shit. What…?”
“It’s bonding withdrawal,” Arc explained. “Your cells are making the biological change into being a bonded male, but your mate’s not here to
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