Page 11 of Bonds of Pain
I don’t bother to fight when he moves onto my other wounds, letting only the slightest breath hiss from between my clenched teeth as he dabs antiseptic on the scrapes and bites littering my body.
When Logan tucks me into bed and tells me to rest, it’s the gentlest I’ve ever seen him be.
I resist my body’s desperate need to sleep just to spite him, even after he quietly shuts the door and leaves me in the room alone. Curled up on my side and hugging a pillow to my chest like that’s any sort of defense, I glare silently at the wall.
But exhaustion weighs as heavy as the thick bedding, by my mind is alive with chaotic thoughts. I have no intention of falling asleep, but my body doesn’t give me much of a choice.
My mind drifts first, wandering toward the empty nothingness that is quickly becoming my only solace. The ebb and flow of emotions through the bond fade away, leaving me alone with the void inside my own soul. Oblivion is the only solace I have left.
But with sleep come unwanted dreams.
A heavy form presses against my back
Phantom hands, so much rougher than my own, caress my skin with a reverence that borders on possessive. They seem to know exactly where to touch, where to tease, sending delicious shivers racing down my spine. Soft whispers, like a murmuring breeze, fill my ears with indecipherable words laced with an aching longing that mirrors the yearning within my own heart.
The touch becomes more insistent, sliding under the sweat-drenched blankets to where my naked body lies underneath. Fingers, hot like flames, dance along the curves of my waist, slipping beneath my thighs with clear intent. A thumb, firm and deliberate, strokes between my folds, igniting a fire that spreads through my core with dizzying intensity.
“You’re so wet for me, such a good Omega.”
I arch into the touch, surrendering to the building arousal that threatens to consume me. The whispers grow louder, their words becoming clear as promises of possession and eternity are breathed against my skin. Promises that would thrill me if I believed they were real.
Desire twists deep in my belly and heat spreads like wildfire against my skin. Even through senses dulled with sleep, I feel myself responding to the deliberate friction.
A touch that is not at all tentative moves up my body, lingering at the bend of my waist before teasing at my hardenednipples. I sink deeper into pleasurable haze, back arching to chase more of that figment pressure. It feels too good for me to question the nature of the phantasm.
“This is exactly how it should be. You, warming my bed, always ready to be split open on my cock like the needy girl you are.”
Silk sheets slide against my skin as I roll onto my stomach, fabric cool against my overheated flesh. The pressure on the engorged flesh just above my entrance doesn’t cease. Flashes of color break through the white haze of my dreamscape like rainbow-colored lightning.
“Fuck, Maya. Just like that.”
It’s the painful breach of penetration that does it.
I jolt awake with a gasp, my eyes flying open to the dim light of Logan’s bedroom. This isn’t a dream. The thrusting weight bending my back is real. The fingers circling my clit are real. The hard length pushing inside me is very real.
Logan. Taking me in my sleep.
He doesn’t notice the sudden tension in my body as I come awake, too lost in his own pleasure.
“The bond doesn’t matter. You know who you belong to,” he murmurs against my neck, his breath hot against my skin. “Eventually, I’ll get you to admit it.”
My first instinct is to fight him off — to claw, to bite, to scream — knowing that his superior strength makes any physical resistance pointless on my part. But my treacherous body is already responding, already slick and ready for him. His heart pounds where his chest presses against my back, matching the steady beat of the distant bond between us. Every sensation is amplified without the hazy specter of sleep. My thoughts scatter like leaves in a storm in the face of overwhelming pleasure.
I open my mouth to tell him to stop, but all that comes out is a breathy moan, so weak and soft that it’s barely audible over the loud squeak of the mattress.
Logan rolls his hips forward, sinking deeper inside me. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to prevent a louder groan from escaping my lips. His hands stroke over every inch of my skin he can reach, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.
“You try so hard to fight it, but look how soaked this amazing pussy is for me. Your mouth says no, but your body is begging for more.” He gives a particularly hard thrust that makes me swallow back a gasp. “One day you’ll understand. This is where you were always meant to be. Look how much you want this.”
I hate that he is at least partly right. Almost as much as I hate how good this feels.
Slick squelches between our flesh as he bottoms out and grinds inside me. I don’t need to see it to know that fluid is dripping down my thighs. My inner walls clench around the hard length inside me, hips shifting instinctively to push back against his.
I hate how the bond between us thrums with pleasure, feeding into a cycle I can’t break.
“Such a perfect girl,” Logan whispers, his lips trailing along the shell of my ear. “So responsive. So wet for me.”
His praise shouldn’t affect me, but it does. Something primal inside me preens at his words, desperate for validation even as my conscious mind rebels against it.
