Page 1 of Inextricably Tied

ONE

Flint

Harbinger is going to wreck him.

Flint barely has the SUV in park before she tugs down the zipper of his slacks, single-mindedly focused on taking care of the hard dick she’s been teasing.

They’re late for a meeting. Granted, it’s with the Orena Investigative Division, so neither of them minds a lascivious detour. But their front windshield isn’t tinted, and this fast-food parking lot is more cramped than Flint would like. Across the asphalt, a pair of nyads usher their children into the restaurant without a glance toward the SUV, but Flint still presses his tusks against his fist. His elbow digs into the door as Harbinger takes him into the wet heat of her mouth.

“Harbin…”

His cock muffles her hum. It’s an intoxicating sight, the massive stone-colored swell of his length disappearing between her lips. She gives no sign of stopping, spitting over his head until it’s slick enough to wrap both her skeletal hands around it.

When her lips stretch around him again, Flint’s grip tightens on the steering wheel. “That can’t be comfortable.”

Harbinger edges him into the back of her throat until he curses. She pops off with a flourish. “You’re right. Would be much better in my ass.”

Flint scrubs a hand down his face. “For fuck’s sake, Harbin…”

But she isn’t deterred, knocking her skull helmet to the floor and clambering over the center console into the backseat.

Flint doesn’t have that luxury. No affordable vehicle accommodates his gargantuan gargoyle stature. Instead, he adjusts his dick back into his pants, shoving off his seatbelt and squeezing out the driver’s side door. He scans the area as his bat-like wings stretch, one hand running through the graying temples of his black hair. There are a few empty cars in the lot, plus a couple of people arguing as they prepare to drive off. Flint nods cordially as they pull away before two hands are on his shirt, tugging him into the back of the SUV.

He locks the doors behind him, pulling up the divider to the front seat before he lets Harbinger distract him. Bone-white skin peeks through the front of her black catsuit, undone all the way between her thighs. All her bones protrude, pronounced among fat and muscle, skeletal features carved into her flesh. Her banshee body is somewhere between living and death that Flint wants to drag his mouth over.

She pins him back against the seat, her slight form against his colossal one, pressing against the round curve of his stomach when she fists him out of his pants again.

“You act like you’ve been deprived,” he taunts.

“I was,” she insists, “for seven years.”

Before Flint accidentally touched her bare skin and became the only person who could get this close. Before him pulling her to safety ruined her plans to keep the world at arm’s length. Before they became more than partners, and she became privy to his emotions.

He guides both her hands in one of his, dragging up and down his cock. Frustration twists into her shoulders and the sweat above her lip as she tries to stroke faster. Classic Harbinger: always running, running, running, diving headfirst, never slowing down.

“Flint…” She grits through her teeth, but he keeps both her hands trapped against him. It takes all he has to keep his red eyes trained on her. To not let his dick twitch between her slick palms.

His horns brush the ceiling as his head tilts. “Do you need something?”

He can’t fight a smirk at the way she’s torn between watching his eyes and the precum beading where their hands tighten around his head. His dick barely fits in both her hands. Still, she grips him tighter until he hisses.

“You gonna make me beg?” Harbinger mutters. “We’re already behind schedule.”

Like she gives a fuck. And still, she tries to use it against him, to force him to move, to have him diving headlong into the rush with her. Flint doesn’t change his pace, resting his other arm behind his head like he has all the time in the world. “I don’t mind telling the whole Orena Investigative Division that we’re late because you needed your pussy stretched out.”

Harbinger groans. “Fuck the OID.” Her opaline eyes find his again. She’s practically salivating at the sight of his head disappearing between their fists. “Give it to me.”

“I gave it to you last night.”

Her laugh stays on her lips, voice hoarse when she manages to speed her hands. “What, are you rationing me? Giving me dick once a week until a new shipment comes in?”

“I should.” Flint lifts his hips, fucking into their melded grips. “You need a break once in a while.” The chiding slips between foreplay, where she’s less likely to disregard it. “This size difference isn’t a joke.”

Harbinger lifts to her knees, lip tucked between her teeth. “I promise you…” Her skeletal face hovers in front of his, her hands still trapped beneath his claws. “I’m always wet enough.” She stirs hips against his hand, brushing the bare skin of her stomach against his cock until she shudders. “You can check, if you want to make sure.”

Innocence drips from her pout, but Flint knows better. His eyes narrow…and still, he can’t keep his gaze off her mouth. “Let me get the lube.”

“We didn’t use any the first time.”