Page 136 of Inked in Bloom
As I begin to catch my breath, my walls pulse, rippling inward. I moan against his lips, the lock clicking into place as Briar’s teeth sink into my neck.
53
BRIAR
Monroe gasps.
Copper floods my mouth and light explodes from behind my eyes as Monroe’s pussy flutters around my dick like a fucking dream. We quiver against each other, and I try absorbing the depth of the emotions colliding into mine through the bond. It’s as if all the things we’ve suppressed all these months have been unmoored. Our bodies rock, trying to give the energy somewhere to go. I lap at the claim mark. After a few minutes, I feel the bond settle, like the breeze calming after a storm. A strange glow spreads between us, and I pull back just enough to spot the source.
Our mate marks pulse in a stunning rose-gold hue.
“Woah,” Monroe says, watching the shade spread, embellishing the inky lines of my flourish marks.
I press my hand to my mate mark.“A new iteration of us.”
She repeats the motion and scrunches her brows together. It takes a moment for her to find the tether, but she’s already used to my emotions flowing into her—now that connection has rooted itself deep within us, entwined.
“Mates.”Her lock continues clenching around me, twisting and rippling even as we hold still. She could do nothing and she’d drain me of every last drop. Just the idea of it sends a thrill pulsing through me.
Wonder how much of me she can take.
My balls tighten, pelvis pulling taut. There’s an unfamiliar tingle, and I’m not sure if I’m about to come or?—
“What the fuck is that?” Monroe says, face rearing back a few inches. She points at the small nub protruding from above the base of my dick. It unfurls, opening into a flower. Her eyes go wide.
“It’s my calyxus.” I smile, seeing it for the first time, and run my fingers over the petals. “All Blooms who don’t possess a lock have one. It grows only for their mate.”
“What’s its purpose?” Monroe arches a brow. “Scientifically speaking.”
The petals jut forward, reaching for her. My skin tugs at my pelvis, not painful but definitely uncomfortable enough for me to want to give in. However, Monroe’s slack-jawed expression holds me still, even if her lock is currently sucking the life out of my dick. I try to focus on her question and not her wet walls massaging me.
I grit my teeth. “Scientifically speaking, it stimulates your mate and increases the—intensity of their orgasms—and internal locking—mechanism—for those who have them.” I barely make it through the sentence before stars explode in my vision. Hot jets of cum paint her insides, and she curls her hips, taking it all.
“Ohhh.Fuck.” Her sounds are guttural and her pleasure spikes. I don’t have to look to know those little petals have gotten hold of my mate’s clit. They lick and suck and pulse, and her body spasms around me.
Monroe hisses a bunch of curse words I recognize and a few I’m not sure if she’s made up.
“You’re so beautiful when you come,” I tell her, brushing back her sweat-slicked strands and lapping at the rose-gold bite mark on her neck. She shudders, and I rock with her,nourishing the aftershocks of our orgasms. “I can’t take my eyes off you.”
Her focus drops between us, then drags up. “Is it…starting over?”
“It is,” I reply, holding her close. “But you can handle it. Don’t forget, I’ve seen your nightstand.”
I chuckle, curling my hips, though her lock and my calyxus are doing most of the work.
“How long—will this go—for?” She nibbles her bottom lip, and I extend my neck to her, letting her clamp down where she bit before.
“Until I have no more cum to give you.” I groan as her walls tighten. More warmth. More of me spilling into her. “You complaining?”
“Not at all,” she cries out.
“Good.”
Our orgasms spin like tops, each one colliding into another, a give and take of pleasure overwhelming my senses until I’m dizzy. At some point, I carry her into one of the tents, instinct driving me to give my mate privacy and rest.
Monroe lies on top of me, her hair sprawled over my chest. We’re both drenched in sweat. She whimpers, quaking against me through another orgasm, and I can barely process anything other than the sounds coming from my mate, the press of our bodies, and the contentment simmering through our bond.
“How will we know when it’s finished?” Monroe asks a few minutes or hours later. Her chest heaves in time with mine.
