Page 93 of Inked in Bloom
Lock-activating serum.
With a twitch of my nose, I summon the bulb I’d haphazardly left on the floor. Briar’s pupils bleed into his lavender irises until all that’s in them is dark need. It runs through me, my instinct driving me. There’s something disturbingly thrilling about knowing he’s filled that ice chest for me. Proof of his desire despite the boundary between us.
I open the bulb and pour some along the dildo’s shaft.
Briar hisses out a groan.
I twist it around until the tip is evenly coated, that sweet scent has me salivating. I want to drag my tongue along theshaft and taste him, find out why he smells so…mouthwatering.
Instead, I take Briar’s toy deep, the end nudging my sensitive nerves, and I press the flower back to my clit. The suction blows my pleasure into oblivion, and my stomach clenches, the tension zipping down my pelvis.
I whimper through my orgasm, unsure for a few moments if I’ll survive it, and as the lock activates, stars pepper my vision.
Briar’s legs buckle and he growls a slew of mismatched curses. My lock doesn’t just hold the dildo in place, it strokes it from the inside, rippling up and down the shaft.
Pure bliss.
Briar’s eyes roll back into his head as cum paints the bulb and canister in wild, messy, streaks.
“You’re so Fate’s-damn perfect,” he says, rocking and groaning in time with my fluttering. His praise warms me, my body tingling all over. He works to catch his breath. “Everything I could ever fucking want.”
Shuddering, I bite my lip and come again. So does he, inevitable, unstoppable.
Eventually, he has to summon another bulb.
I savor every ounce.
Look at whatIdo to him.
Until his body goes slack, the pair of us falling asleep with a slip of glass between us, I shamelessly take what I want and leave the fallout for another day.
39
BRIAR
Monroe sleeps soundly on the other side of the glass, her body sprawled across the bed with my jacket tucked against her. A tangle of wild mint waves hangs over her face. She’s the most stunning person—harbinger or mortal—I’ve ever seen. It’s impossible to keep my eyes off her.
Fate knows I’ve tried.
I did everything I could to respect her wishes. I stayed away, only interacting as needed to help her get through her courses at the Conservatory. When she went out for spring, I kept my presence unknown—at least for the most part. If she saw me, it was in my official capacity as Radix, sanctioned by Fate. Not as a mate collared by the leash of our bond, desperate to be near her.
She barely understands what we are. And if she wanted to know more, she’s had ample opportunities to ask or research—the woman loves to learn. The way she soaks up information and retains it is an educator’s wet dream. I’d know, she’s given me plenty of them.
The last few days are rooted to my soul. I couldn’t forget them even if I tried, which I won’t.
It metaphorically kills me that I don’t know if I can say the same for Monroe.
Her hatred still haunts me, but it’s nothing compared to my own guilt. I may never forgive myself for my role in her death, but if earning her forgiveness means worshiping at the altar of her desire each solstice, I’ll fall to my knees, an eager supplicant.
Striding down the hallway, I check out from the Center, summon my floracycle, and head toward The Nest. I’ve already been gone for too long and I need to see my daughters. Juni’s struggled enough after I was stuck last year—and she was finally starting to sleep better. Once I get the girls to school, I’ll come back and check on Monroe. Not that she’ll know. Her body slipped blissfully into rejuvenation, desperate to take the energy we harnessed through solstice and fuel her magic to its full potential.
I’m buzzing with the satisfaction of pleasing my mate.
The last few days were a glimpse of what could be. Now there’ll be a few months apart while she rests. The part of me that cherishes her well-being and knows how much she’s been through is glad for her reprieve. The other part fears she’ll fortify not just herself but the walls she’s so meticulously crafted.
This solstice might be all we’ll have. Next time, she might close me out completely—or worse yet, invite another harbinger to her bed. She’d almost left with Tom that night at The Velveteen Rose. It was a moment of weakness, scaring him off. Not one I’m proud of…at least not for the right reasons.
A growl vibrates through my chest as I climb off my floracycle. No other harbinger will satisfy my mate like I can. My pants grow tight, so I stay in place, exhaling the memory of her fucking herself, my cum sliding inside her, the faux lock drawing out everything I had. For her.
