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I just need to power through my Ascension ceremony first. I’m not looking forward to that, especially since my mother was forced to add in my virgin night among other steep tithes when the mage council threatened to excommunicate her. Once done, though, I can be with my bond mates and leave the council behind.
Owain slurps greedily between my legs. “Doyle will be angry that we started without him.” He doesn’t sound one bit remorseful.
My gargoyle bond mate won’t be free from his stone prison until the sun fully sets. Thanks to summer, sunlight lingers until nearly nine o’clock.
“We can always stop,” I say between gasps. We will need to soon, anyway. As much as I love being with my mates, if they wish to take my virginity first, I won’t have the strength of will to stop them.
Logan growls as he kneads my breast. “I hate the idea of one of those limp dicks touching you.” He bends down to lave one tawny peak. “You better move soon, O, or I slice your tongue off.”
His threat lacks heat as he nuzzles his snout against my rounded flesh.
Owain answers Logan by flipping him off, then slides that thick finger inside of me, then another. Just those two stretches my tight channel. I hiss as I ride the line between pleasure and pain.
“Breathe ‘Nyx. We’re going to go so slow. There you go.” Owain curls his fingers inside me as if searching for something. When I gasp an ‘Oh!’ I understand what he’s looking for.
He chuckles. “We’re going to make sure you are well-pleasured and ready. I don’t want you to feel any pain.” He places gentle lips on my throbbing clit, drawing it inside his mouth.
I melt.
“The sun has basically set. Doyle will be present soon,” Mordred whispers against my temple. I know he announces it so that I won’t feel guilty. I don’t want any of my guys to feel left out.
A keening moan rises from me as Owain relentlessly pushes me higher and higher, the building pressure within me needing an outlet. “Please,” I beg, not knowing what exactly I’m begging.
“Sh, my lovely. You’ll feel so good. Just let go. Ride that wave. Trust that we have you.”
With renewed vigor, they all lick and suck, grab and pinch, every bit of me they have access to while Mordred whispers hot words in my ear. “You are ours. Only ours. After tonight, all you will ever need to know is our touch, our heat, our love. We will take turns stretching you, filling you. You will know nothing else but us. You are ours, as much as we are yours. Say it. Say that we’re yours.”
“You’re mine.”My monsters.
“Now say you’re ours.”
“I’m yours. Always. Only yours.”
“Our good girl. Now come,” Mordred says.
As if his command is spell-laced, my body trembles as heat flashes across my skin and an orgasm ripples over me.
If I die now, I wouldn’t care. This is all I ever want. They are all I ever want.
My family approves of my bond choices, but the mage council–composed of mostly humans–do not. They still seek to foist off one of their own elites on me to add to my bonding circle, which is why they bid for one of theirs to be my first. My family–my mother–could do nothing but accept the proffered bondmate.
As for me? I will always know that my first taste of pleasure is with my chosen bond mates.
We have kept to the letter of the law. We didn’t have relations. Everything we’ve done has been strictly PG-13. And in public, we are the picture of saintly virtues. But here…in this forest hollow outside of the prying eyes of our society brethren, we slake our lusts, watching each other masturbate.
And now…now that I am finally eighteen and on the eve of my ascension ceremony, there is no need to wait. In a few hours, I will be offered to the council anyway and fucked by one of their chosen studs.
At least here, with my chosen mates, I can bond myself to them first, and dream of their touch while I endure being a virgin sacrifice to the council.
Afterwards, we can start the bonding process and be true bond mates at last. Tonight is soon enough for me.
A presence alights in the clearing. Doyle’s velvet voice follows. “I see I am just in time.” He approaches our circle, taking me from Mordred so he can kiss me as he likes.
“Indeed,” Owain’s deep voice rumbles in his chest. He drags his fingers in a light caress over my face. “Are you ready, little witch?”
I nod, still breathless from Doyle’s kiss. Doyle walks me over to the sacred grove, positioning me atop an ancient tree stump easily six feet in diameter. Polished by time and the elements, it’s imbued with primal magic that has protected this hollow for generations.
It seemed the perfect place to seed our bonds.
