Page 117 of Tethered Fates

“I didn’t think so.” He pulls me close, his fingers cradling the back of my head so when he tilts me back and kisses me, he can control the speed. The pressure.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I open my mouth, sighing as his firm lips shape mine. His tongue slides past my lips to lick inside, leaving a line of heat everywhere he strokes.

My body warms, my blood bubbling with excitement. My cock hardens.

It took time, some therapy, which was boring but necessary, for my cock to learn it can get hard again. There were lots of deep breathing exercises, some days where I didn’t care, and others where it was all I cared about.

Tears, too. Lots of tears. But now my body responds. Though sometimes when I’m anxious, it doesn’t.

Either way, it’s okay. I’m okay.

Sen grins as he rids me of my hoodie. I rip his way-too-expensive black sweater off and toss it into a dusty pile.

He takes my jaw. “Such a naughty thing, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” I thrust my chin up. “Now take your trousers off and get on your knees.”

His dark eyes sharpen into something deadly. Slowly, with a smirk in the corner of his lips, Sen takes off his trousers, then glides down. “Whatever you want.” His low whisper against my bare stomach sends shivers across my skin.

Sen on his knees is always the truest expression of art. His dark hair frames each deadly angle of his face. His chest is strong, his posture relaxed—ready. His hard cock is framed by his muscular legs scattered with dark hair.

Just looking at him makes my breath quicken. I hurry away so I can grab as much colour as possible.

“Wanna get messy with me, slick?” I ask him, licking my lips as I pop open each lid with a flat screwdriver.

“There is nothing I want more.”

I scramble to rip the rest of my clothes off. Unlike Sen, I’m not elegant when I drop onto his lap, our solid cocks rubbing together. I pull him in for a deep, hungry kiss.

“I wanna be so fucking messy with you,” I tell him between kisses, dragging my nails across his skin. Gasping when his fingers leave bruises on my sides.

“Show me,” Sen’s low voice soaks into my pores.

I drag my mouth away from his so I can thrust my hand into pearly pink paint. Streaks run down my fingers, drip across my wrists and down my arms. I slap my palm across his sculptured chest, painting him as I roam his torso.

Sen grabs a fistful of electric blue and splashes it over my back, the cool paint warming from my heated skin as he strokes up and down.

We go for more colours. I drench him in navy, black, and reds. He paints me in purple, yellow, and shimmering whites. I’m gasping and moaning with each new colour, my cock pulsing and my balls tight.

Sen throws me on our canvas, pounces on me and sucks my nipple while his desperate hands paint possessive lines over every inch he can reach. I do the same, practically thrumming with my need to touch, kiss, bite and suck him, uncaring that the pasty taste of paint is in my mouth, when just under it is the addicting flavour of my mate.

By the time I’m face down and ass up, the paper under us is an explosion of colour and swirling prints—hand, feet, the curves of our asses and the round kiss of my lips and the hard press of my cheek.

“Just fuck me, c’mon,” I demand as he fingers me open with lube and paint, filling me with all his decadent colours. “Fuck, I want it rough. Do it.”

Sen grabs hold of my hips, the head of his cock notched at my hole. “Teagan,” he groans. “You’re so tight.”

He thrusts inside. Not slow. Sen pounds into me, fucking me just the way I scream for it. His grunts and my cries echo around my studio as each ram of his hips sends drops of paint splatting on the canvas.

I throw my head back, whining from the pleasure of it. Hungry for everything he’s giving me.

Sen sits up, and I’m about to complain about being empty when he hauls me onto his lap, filling my quivering entrance with the burning heat of his cock.

“I want to bite you so badly,” he growls like he’s lost all control as he scratches his fangs against my shoulder.

“Beg for it,” I whimper, bouncing. The head of his cock beats against my sensitive prostate with each swipe.

He does, his face mashed into my neck, his voice ripped raw and ragged as he speaks through his fangs. “I want to slide my fangs deep into you, I want to suck your blood up. Make you mine again. Fucking always. Please.”