Page 50 of Fangbanger

He bares his teeth and fists his cock. The muscles of his arms and chest are tense. He pushes my underwear to the side. I gasp at the feel of him, warm and hard against my clit. Warm from the blood I gave him. He spreads my legs wider, gripping my thigh with one large hand.

“Yes?” he rasps. His dick throbs against me.

I nod and moan a “yes” against the tape. The word is barely out before he fills me.

He’s huge. Thick and long, bigger than any human man. Taking him even halfway makes me feel stuffed full. I exhale hard. Pleasure dances across my nerve endings. I jerk against the chains, trying to get closer.

The bond snaps taut between us.

We both gasp.

“Fuck,” he mutters. His fangs lengthen. His gaze goes unfocused. Shit.

Marcus. I bark down the bond. Images are easier. Words are harder.

He shakes his head and rocks his hips. “Fuck, slayer, I can’t. I need you.”

I make a sound of disagreement. His gaze connects with mine. Something is ballooning inside my ribcage, pushing all the air out of my chest. His eyes widen. His hands tighten on my hips as his cock swells thicker inside me. He pushes in another inch, and the stretch ignites more pleasure inside me. He tries to go slow, and I try to get closer, and slowly, my body takes him until we both moan at the feeling of him bottoming out inside me.

He rolls his hips. I gasp. It’s on the edge of too much, and he isn’t particularly gentle. I’ve never felt like this. I’ve never let go like this, never had someone who could read my body and my mind. Even without words, I trust Marcus completely.

His thrusts grow messy and rough, and the bed creaks in warning. I urge him with the arch of my hips as I meet the heavy slap of his. I feel so good. I’m so full, stretched around his length and so wet that I can hear the slippery thrusts. I let my eyes drift shut. The bond shimmers like spun gold. Beautiful. Every nerve ending sparks. I want to dissolve into those sparks, let them take me on an ocean of⁠—

“Leah,” he says raggedly. His voice sounds like it comes from underwater. “Leah,” he demands. There’s a sharp pain at my nipple that ignites quickly into pleasure. My back arches at the lightning-sharp feel of it.

My gaze clears. Marcus is looking down at me. Blood trickles from his mouth.

“Eyes on me.”

I nod. His hands clutch my waist.

“Eyes on me, slayer, okay? It’s the bond. It’s trying to seal.”

The words ground me. He rocks me over his cock, slower, then faster, lifting my hips as much as he can and slamming into me. His strength and speed are inhuman. My shoulders cry out against the pain, but it’s quickly buried in the wash of sensation.

My stomach twists, and I cry out, halfway between pleasure and desperation. He growls and fucks me deeper, his mouth going slack and his eyes unfocused. The swelling in my chest is unbearable. I fight against it, caught between his hands, stuffed full, unable to move.

“Let it out,” he says hoarsely. He fills me with each word, thick, heavy, rough. He’s destroying my mattress. Wood cracks.

“Let what out?” I sob the muffled words against the tape, not sure what I feel, only that I’ll burst.

“Your magic,” he grates, understanding me.

I don’t have magic. I shake my head and screw my eyes shut, needing relief, needing something, anything⁠—

“Leah,” he growls. “You have it. Let it out.”

I can’t. I jerk against the chains, sending panicked thoughts down the bond, trying to tell him I’ve tried so many times, that there’s nothing there, that I’m broken, that there will never be anything there.

He leans in, gathers me against his chest as far as the chains will allow, hips slapping mine as he thrusts. His mouth finds my ear and he nuzzles my neck. “Little mate. Let it out. For me.” His words croon softly against my skin, and then he bites me, and I detonate.

32

MARCUS

My mate is coming on my cock. The wonder of it flashes briefly in my mind before I’m coming too, pleasure tearing up my spine and through my groin. I empty myself inside her in hard pulses. Leah shakes around me, arching and twisting. I’m only able to keep my cock inside her by gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. She squeezes me impossibly tight, drawing the orgasm out longer and longer as my fangs throb in her neck and her blood fills my mouth.

She makes wordless sounds against the tape before she comes again with a sharp cry, arching and shaking, then goes limp. The bond pulses with her pleasure, filling the empty places between my organs with soft light. My chest inflates with pride at doing this for her, at the connection between us.