Bijou's Bonds

by Anh Leod

  She hesitated, then brushed his fingers with the pads of her own. Yes!

  “We’re on your property tonight. Do you like that better? Your own home? I know you don’t want to be with me or King never would have suggested we take time apart.”

  “I have a life of my own.” She moved her hands away, rebuilding space between them. “I wasn’t sure King ever even intended to send me back to you.”

  “We’ll have to be together eventually or we’ll die. I’d rather we didn’t, given the choice.”

  She nodded.

  “I understand you have a life, plans of your own. I’ll give you time. If you give me tonight.”

  She gazed at him again, a long stare that felt soul-deep. Then she uncurled herself and stood. A brass candlesnuffer rested on a table to her left and he watched as she took it in her slender, claw-tipped fingers, then stepped to the first candle.

  He guessed she was agreeing and would give him tonight. If only they’d conceive a child. But there was still time. Already tied together, he might as well plan for the future. He watched her lean body, clad in tight jeans that accentuated the high, muscled butt he knew lay underneath. Suddenly he felt uncomfortable ogling her. She was giving him what he wanted and he’d offered her no courtship.

  Standing, he said, “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Wait for me.”

  Bijou blew out the candle in front of her, the snuffer forgotten in her hand as she watched Pompey’s broad back disappear into the night. What had gotten into him? A sudden intense sense of frustration filled her. She clenched her thighs together and threw the snuffer out onto the lawn.

  How could he be exactly what she didn’t want yet so entirely what she needed sexually? She’d thought he would go away after speaking to King, that she’d get time entirely away from him and she could forget what last night had been like for her.

  But here he’d come, invading her night space with his large body and icy blue eyes. Her heightened shape-shifter senses could smell his arousal, pungent and enticing. They had been all light banter, but underneath she’d been juicy with desire and his cock had been rock-hard.

  Now? Nothing but disappointment. What had she done to make him flee their mutual desire? She didn’t even own a vibrator, but tonight she wished she had one, since she was humming with a need for fast release.

  Zeus’ cock! She didn’t know what to do with herself. Pacing the deck entertained her only for a moment. She needed to get that man out of her head and the only way to manage that was to kill the sexual frustration she felt before she had to show him her need.

  She stalked into her bedroom and opened her lingerie drawer. Not that there was much in the way of lingerie in it, she had little more than sturdy, brightly colored cotton underthings. Maybe she just wasn’t that sexy, but focusing on her shortcomings as a woman wasn’t going to quench the fire he had lit inside her. Could the only remnant of a former lover help? She had only ever used one sex toy on herself, something her college lover had introduced into their sex play.

  Crossing her room to the opposite side of her neat, quilt-topped bed, she began to unbutton her denim blue sleeveless shirt. Closing her eyes for a moment, she let her fingers drift down her abdomen, pretending a lover’s fingers were on her. Then she reached behind and undid the clasp of her bra. In the hot night her nipples weren’t terribly responsive so she pinched them, then opened her eyes to see the results.

  She loved her nipples. Fat and rosy, just the sight of them made her pussy tingle. She lifted her breasts with her hands and pressed them against the mirror. The cold sensation made her shudder, made her nipples harden even more.

  Satisfied, she put her fingers on the belt of her jeans. She kept her fingers there, imagining they belonged to someone else, slowly undoing the buckle.

  Her mood was slightly diminished when she saw the boring pink cotton bikini panties beneath the jeans, but when she touched the cotton it was damp, and her clit was already plump and so tender that merely running her finger over the cotton made her gasp. She pushed her panties down, too hot now to wear anything on her sensitized flesh. When she turned away from the mirror, she caught sight of the new tattoo on her cheek.

  She was a mate and yet alone. “It’s not supposed to be like this,” she growled aloud. It didn’t matter, she could pleasure herself.

  There were five crisp cotton-covered pillows on her bed and she pushed them into a thick pile so she could recline against them. She sighed as she leaned back, trying to loosen up. Relaxation was impossible though because she was too horny to be still. Flipping to her belly, she reached to the edge of her bed. Her engorged nipples rubbed against the sturdy multicolored quilting threads. She pulled herself forward, allowing her pelvis to grind into the mattress. It felt so good, but she wished she had a man under her instead of her quilt. A man she didn’t have such a complicated relationship with, of course. How was it that after years of celibacy her body could come so completely alive after just one night with her mate? She pushed the irritating thought from her mind. She didn’t want to think, only feel. When her breasts were off the bed she could reach far enough underneath to pull out the small box containing her toy.

  She pulled herself up and crawled back to the comfortable spot in her nest of pillows. Her professor lover had given her the hand-carved music box when she had told him she was going back to Centralia. It played a mournful, sentimental tune that made her tear up, so she snatched her toy out of the box and closed the lid before it could tinkle more than a couple of notes. No sadness now. She could deal with her losses after she’d rid herself of her body’s craving.

  She cradled the handle of her toy in both hands. Just touching it made her breasts tingle. The whip was made of soft leather, dangling from the base in black and red strips. Her heightened senses picked up the faint smell of her body as well as the stronger odor of the leather, despite who knew how many months since she’d used it.

  Her fingers tested the soft strands of the whip and her legs trembled slightly as her body remembered. Her pussy released a little more of its moisture. She could feel her inner lips growing thick with desire.

  At first she teased herself, running the whip from the tops of her feet up to her thighs, letting the ends of the whip brush her sensitized skin ever so slightly. Then the other leg got the same treatment, the many strands of leather feeling foreign, like someone else’s hands touching her.

  She ran the long filaments of leather along her shins, her calves, the outsides of her legs. Her pussy wept with desire. When she was ready, she moved the whip to her inner thighs until her legs automatically began spreading. For just a moment, one little stroke, she let the strands tap against her engorged clit, then let the fingers of one hand play there while she tapped her breasts with the whip, her pale skin reddening with the gentle contact.

  Her head rested back against the pillows, eyes closed. She abandoned her breasts, circling her clit with a steady rhythm while she moved the whip strands up her chest to her neck and shoulders, almost ready for the next step.

  Her legs spread farther apart as she moved the thick handle of the whip down her body now. She brushed the strands against her inner legs again, feeling them resist pulling away from her skin because of all the dampness there. Then she titled her pelvis up and moved her free hand down to open her lips. Her pussy received the handle of her whip voraciously, her pelvis pushing up to accept several inches. She gasped as it slid into her, the noise seeming to echo in the room.

  Reason dribbled back into her brain. Her voice had never echoed in here before. Had she really heard her own voice, or someone else’s? She opened her eyes to see Pompey standing over her.

  Dropping the whip from her numb fingers, she scrabbled to an upright position against the pillows.

  “Don’t stop now,” he said in a strained voice. “Unless I can put my cock where that whip handle is.”

  She looked down and saw the toy still protruding from her pussy. How embarrassing. Reaching down she
pulled it out, moaning as it separated from her screaming flesh. The handle was moist with her juices. When she saw Pompey’s intense expression she forgot to be self-conscious.

  Pompey reached down and took it from her. Her eyes widened as he licked the handle with his long pink tongue.

  He closed his eyes in appreciation. “Divine. You taste amazing. So much flavor.”

  “What are you doing here?” she squeaked. The smell of him, his arousal was making her crazy. “You said you had to leave.”

  “I told you I was coming back. You left the porch door open.”

  She supposed he had said that, but she couldn’t remember. Her brain was completely fogged. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  “Why not?”

  She blinked. “I was horny, okay?” The irritation became more than she could bear, overriding her craving. She threw a pillow at him.

  He leaned back to catch it, and she saw his cock clearly outlined as it strained against the summer-weight wool of his slacks. Her mouth went dry.

  “Why did you come back?” She sat on her right hand to keep in it from reaching for his zipper.

  He held out a handful of long cellophane. “I went to get these. To be nice.”

  Befuddled, she took the handful of what she now saw were gas station roses. “You brought them to be nice?”

  “There aren’t any florists open at this time of night. The fireworks will begin in any moment.”

  The fireworks would already be going in her head if she’d had a chance to bring herself to climax. Now what? “I should put them in water.”

  “I’ve got a better idea.” He took one of the roses from her and tore it from the package. Flinging the wrapper aside, he pulled the petals from the rose and crushed them in his hand before scattering them across her chest.

  She leaned back again, smiling at the absurdity. “You’ve lost your mind.”

  “How could I stay sane with your wet pussy scent filling the room?” He took another rose from her hand and pulled it from its wrapper, then bent down and tilted her hips with his hand under her butt. Then he speared the flower an inch into her channel.

  Her pelvis leapt from the bed in an involuntary motion. She gasped as he pulled it out and circled her clit.

  “Zeus’ cock,” she moaned. She felt the bed dip as Pompey knelt on the bed between her legs. “Just fuck me now, okay?”

  “No.” She felt her legs being spread apart by two strong hands, then hair brushing between her legs. Her eyes widened. Was he doing what she hoped? Oh yes, he was. She felt his tongue on her clit.

  No more urging was needed to open her legs. She pressed her pelvis against his face, too hot to do anything more than take what he offered and make it as fast as possible. The room smelled like smoke and roses and her own excited body as she ground her clit against his mouth.

  She began to shake as she pressed and rotated and gasped. Couldn’t quite get there. Zeus, this was all so new to her.

  “Let go, parum lupus,” he urged.

  He moved slightly. She grabbed his hair with her fingers, scraping his skull with her claws. Why was he moving?

  Then, she felt a full sensation in her channel. Warm and wet, more slender than a cock, but hot. His tongue. Inside her.

  She gave in with a scream, shuddering against him with an intensity that might have wounded a human trapped between her legs. But he didn’t seem to mind, continuing to tongue-fuck her as she shuddered.

  Eventually, her body relaxed against the quilt and he pulled away. She felt nearly senseless and even a little cool as a smoky breeze drifted into the house and dried the sweat on her body.

  After a minute she called his name. “Pompey?”

  There was no answer. He had left the room. Too relaxed to care, she pushed the quilt down the bed and rolled under her crisp white sheet. In another minute she heard footfalls and saw Pompey enter the room holding a yellow pitcher filled with the roses.

  “Thank you,” she said with a smile when he placed them on her bedside table. How could he take the time to think of roses when his cock tented his pants nearly to the fabric’s tearing point? Her body came alive again.

  “Do you like roses?” he asked.

  She was touched by the uncertainty in his voice. “Yes, very much. I love flowers.”

  He tucked his hands into his pockets.

  She felt his hesitation and held out a hand. “Come here.”

  He took a step toward her. She reached for his belt and pulled him closer, then unbuckled his belt, undid the top button of his slacks and grabbed for his zipper.

  “I’m still horny,” she told him, pushing down his pants. His cock bobbed out, unfettered by underclothes.

  She allowed her mouth to slide over the head of his cock, dampening it with her tongue.

  A guttural noise came from his mouth but he didn’t say anything or touch her. The truth was, she didn’t want to suck him off, she just wanted to lube him up a little so he’d glide into her smoothly.

  While she stretched her mouth around him, taking him deeper, she reached up and pulled his shirt apart. Buttons clattered on the hardwood floor as they ripped from the fabric. The edges of the shirt moved out of her hands as he pushed the shirt from his body and placed his knee on the bed.

  His cock came out of her mouth as he collapsed on top of her, then it probed at her channel’s entrance. Eagerly she pressed herself to him and wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles against his warm back.

  He sank into her, then pulled out and rammed in again. Completely open from her earlier orgasm, she took him to the hilt, feeling his balls against the tender flesh between pussy and anus. Reaching around his butt, she ran her claws against his sac. He groaned and pounded her harder, faster.

  Were they in a race? She fought to keep up with him, alternately playing with his sac and pulling his ass against her so she could keep her clit in full contact with him. No toy could ever compete with the sensations of full body contact with a solid, yummy-smelling shape-shifter.

  She felt herself smiling in sheer bliss even as she began to moan helplessly. Her claws gripped his butt, her legs tightening as she came closer and closer to her second orgasm of the night.

  “Don’t slow down,” she said as she felt the intensity lessen.

  “Don’t you want it to last?” he rasped.

  “No, I want to come.”

  “Thank Jupiter,” he said, then pushed her into the bed until the mattress squeaked, pistoning against her like no human could. Human hearts would give out from the exertion.

  But she could take his power, in fact she could glory in it. She began to spiral up, allowing her feet to separate from the hold on his back and push into the mattress to give her pelvis free rein.

  “Yes, yes,” she sobbed, feeling a glorious fluttering that spread until her entire body was caught up in the best orgasm of her life.

  As she started to float down, she felt him stiffen then shudder against her. Hot cum pelted her inner walls, making her contract again until her orgasm became endless. She sank into a nearly insensate level of pleasure.

  Chapter Six

  After a few minute of blissful drifting she stirred. He rolled off her. As his penis left her channel she felt a last echoing orgasmic pulse. She made a sound in protest. Pompey put an arm across her shoulders and pulled her close so they were resting face-to-face.

  “Fireworks,” she mumbled against his shoulder.

  “Yes,” he said, obviously misunderstanding her. “The fireworks are starting.”

  He sat up. She held out her hand to pull him back, but he wrapped her in the sheet and put his arms under her shoulders and knees. He cradled her against his body and lifted her.

  She closed her eyes against his chest as he stepped into the hallway and out the French doors to the porch. The candles she’d forgotten to snuff out still flickered in the now fully dark night. As he walked to the porch swing and sat with her still in his arms she saw a burst of emerald
-colored sparks in the sky.

  From her backyard she could see the fireworks display in the park a few blocks away. She usually missed it because she was at the Brotherhood party but tonight she had planned to watch from here since she was alone.

  “There’s a bottle of wine over there,” she told him. “If you turn on the radio a local station is supposed to have music that goes with the show.”

  She balanced herself on his lap as he leaned over and flipped on the radio, then grabbed the bottle of wine and corkscrew.

  “You had quite a night planned for yourself,” he said, handing her the bottle.

  “Might as well enjoy yourself even if you can’t attend the party.” She made quick work of the cork, then made a face. “I forgot glasses.”

  “Don’t need them. Here,” he held the bottle to her lips. “We’ll share.”

  She smiled then took a sip from the bottle. The velvety liquid felt wonderful going down her throat. “I think I’m dehydrated,” she said, taking another sip before surrendering the bottle to him.

  “Not surprising,” he said, taking a deep swallow himself. “You got quite a workout in there.”

  She giggled. “We both did.” She could feel his damp chest against her back.

  Above them, the sky brightened with a shower of gold and red sparkles.

  “Beautiful,” she breathed. The music coming from the radio wasn’t the Sousa marches she’d expected but was lovelier, softer.

  She felt him adjust her on his lap.

  “I could use another workout,” he said. “I didn’t get a chance to do my normal run today.”

  She wriggled against him, the friction making her pussy grow moist. “A shape-shifter who exercises in human form? You Romans are dedicated to physical strength. What did you have in mind?”

  “Just tilt a little.”

  She raised her butt off him and felt his cock press against her.

  “Wrong hole,” she gasped, feeling his cock poke against her anus.

  “Are you sure?” She could hear the smile in his voice.