AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I switch floggers and watch in awe as my little dragon succumbs to deep subspace, her euphoric state echoing through our bond. I intensify the rhythm of my strokes, each one affirming our deep connection. The room resonates with the sound of leather against skin, Rayne's cries of pure pleasure cutting through the silence. In these moments, there's nothing but the two of us, lost in our own world, with the night around us fading into oblivion. Just as a flicker of concern grazes my mind, I pause to gently explore her warmth, her skin a canvas of our night. Her response is a deep, primal groan, and our powers converse silently, a primal plea in the space between us. “Take me,” her essence calls out. Carefully setting aside the flogger, I shed my own barriers along with my clothes, savoring the anticipation.
“What did you say, little dragon?” My power prepares to leap, ready for whatever comes next.
And there she lies, spread out, legs wide, dripping wet and all for me. I need to be in her. Now. Spreading her hot ass cheeks, I drive into her, meeting no resistance. I moan and almost lose my shit as her warm heat envelopes me. I thrust into her again, harder, deeper, setting something free within me. Our bond keeps me tethered to the present, to her, to this moment. “Mine.” The word echoes through our connection and she answers in kind.
“Mine.”
There is no sound but our ragged breathing, the slap of skin, her loud cries that are music to my ears. I drive into her relentlessly, bent over the chaise, my fingers biting into her hips. Taking a fistful of short curls in one hand, I grab and pull, hard. Her answering groan resonates deeply, a symphony to the essence of my power.
My power strains against its bonds, clawing to break free, to claim her as only it can. I hold it back through sheer force of will, giving her only what she can handle, what will bring her pleasure laced with a hint of pain.
She leans into me, craving more, every part of her responding to my thoughts, to the slightest changes in my mood and what I want next. I’m amazed at how perfectly we fit together, body and soul. It’s as if I become one with her, part of her, no longer able to tell where I stop and she begins. Her deep moans draw out sounds from me that have long been buried in silence.
I pound into her, harder, deeper, the cords in my neck standing out as I push back the orgasm tightening my balls. She gasps, trembling, so close, and through our connection I feel the first sparks of her release.
Mine. My power rears up, snarling inside my mind, and at last I let go.
The orgasm hits us both like a bolt from the blue, sharp and hot, searing away all thought, all boundaries, all sense of self. There is only sensation, power, connection, as our individual selves dissolve into the whole.
In that moment, something ignites between us, a flame to light our way through the dark. And I am free.
36
RAYNE
Two weeks later, we're en route to Jaden’s mom’s party in Smalltown, Ontario, immersed in the sounds of my latest playlist while Jaden skillfully navigates the traffic. He had mentioned the town's name, but to me, all these rural places start to blur together. I sigh, glancing at the folder on my lap. We have a couple of hours' drive ahead, and I know I should be productive. Yet, my thoughts are preoccupied with Jaden, trying to piece together the final part of the puzzle that's been bothering me for two weeks. I've been eager to question him about his mother, careful not to provoke him, cherishing the fragile sensation of belonging to him. It seems as if our recent intimate experience unlocked something in him, allowing a brief period where our mate bond felt liberatingly free. I had dared to hope he might finally verbalize his feelings for me, not during our sex but in sober daylight. Though the bond shows me his desire and need, hearing it from him directly matters to me . . . a lot. Yet, I recognize my insecurity, or perhaps it's Jaden's voice echoing in my mind, fueling my doubts with fragments of our conversations.
"Why do you like living with me?"
"I’m here, isn't that enough?"
I long for him to affirm his feelings outside the influence of liquor or desire. But as Jaden points out, I can't compel someone's affection.
"Scratch my arm," Jaden requests, his tone edged, as he extends his forearm across the console, signaling his need for physical connection yet also a measure of privacy. Instinctively, I place my hand on his arm, offering a surge of my healing energy before starting to rake my nails over a small section of his forearm. He finds comfort in this numbness that results, though it drove me nearly mad when he tried it on me.
Our connection is profoundly in sync, yet there are aspects of Jaden I might never fully grasp. I've learned to curb my curiosity when my insistent questions start to irritate him, a reminder that not all questions about human behavior are welcome or easily answered. My studies in psychology, initially a quest to understand myself, have become a broader exploration of what drives individuals like ES to inflict harm on their own kids. While my building bank of knowledge has helped me identify some of Jaden’s issues, there’s a hell of a lot more to learn.
So, I scratch, allowing my thoughts to drift as I sing along to a new song that's quickly become a favorite. Song lyrics often resonate with me, clarifying confusions, some more so than others. This particular track, “Hearts Not Here” by the Red Dirt Skinners, sheds light on Jaden in a way that's uncannily accurate. While the song's narrative of a woman suffering from dementia diverges in detail, the theme of emotional unavailability mirrors Jaden perfectly, as if the song were a suit tailored just for him—a look he’d undoubtedly pull off with ease. I begin to belt out the lyrics, finding the song's register and harmonies a perfect fit for my voice.
By the time that I had met you, you had one foot out the door.
This world just didn’t captivate your passion anymore.
At times I caught a glimpse of who I heard you used to be.
But now I see your empty stare helplessly through me.
Your heart’s not here, your spirits gone but your body carries on.
It’s not quite clear what went wrong, but your body carries on.
I’m deep into the second chorus when Jaden abruptly changes the song. “Hey, I was into that.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not.” His determination mixes with a hint of frustration through our bond. He exhales deeply. "Listen, there’s something important you need to know before we get there.”
His sudden urgency halts the retort on the tip of my tongue, his tone signaling more than just a dislike for the song. It reminds me of the careful dance we've perfected over time, avoiding steps that tread too close to his shadows. I'm learning to read the silent signals he sends, the ones that scream louder than his words ever could.
As I maintain the gentle scratch on his arm, a gesture that's become our unspoken language of comfort, an insistent voice inside, perhaps from the new power, reminds me to focus on the light, not the dark. "You’ve come a long way, baby," it seems to say. I recall the first time I navigated this minefield of avoiding sending Jaden into his cave, how clumsy I felt. Now, it's second nature, but the fear of misstepping, of triggering those dark memories for him, always lurks.
