Page 129 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

And any lingering restraint shatters.

My mouth slams down on hers.

Explosions go off in my mind, in my body. Any information I’ve learned about technique from my research escapes me, but I don’t give a fuck as I plunge my tongue into her mouth, licking up every ounce of her. And with a rush of dizziness from the rapture that fills me to overflowing, I notice she doesn’t either.

Because Ezla, The Bonding Games Champion, my Havoc, my girl . . . she kisses me back.

Her tongue meets mine with equal ferocity, caresses me so fucking beautifully, the wet heat sliding over my own hungrily, and she moves her hand abruptly to bury it in the longer strands of my hair, gripping them mercilessly. With a growl, my knees bend as my palms glue to her thighs, and I snatch her up like I’ve always wanted to, crashing her against the wall like a beast untamed. Rutting my cock right against her hot cunt through the thin layers of our clothing, her breasts encased by her bra press firmly to my bare chest, squished against me gloriously.

I break away with a moan, and I’m so delirious, so full of wild emotions—lust, love, exhilaration, pleasure—that a manic, short breath of a laugh escapes me while I thrust my hips up again, grinding myself into her like my dick could punch a hole through the materials separating us and find that slick heat.

Long legs locking behind me to secure her in place, Havoc rolls her hips in response, and I see stars, eyes rolling back in my head. The action encourages one of my hands to leave her thigh and slide between the wall and her ass, gripping a handful of the bare flesh, fingertip grazing the edge of her tiny little thong that I like to imagine she wore just for me.

“Tate.”

My lungs fail me, and everything else within me stutters, too.

Before going haywire.

She said my name. She. Said. My. Fucking. Name.

“Baby,” I rasp, voice raw and bleeding my love and obsession and bottomless need all over her. “Baby, again, please. Havoc, please say my name again.”

Hips thrusting against hers another time, and another, I close my eyes and bury my face in her neck, inhaling the hot-fucking-cinnamon scent of her. Absolutely delicious.

“Tate,” she purrs deliberately now and scratches her nails over the buzzed hair at my nape, causing a full-body shudder to roll through me.

“Yeah, baby. Again.” My mouth attacks her neck then, sucking bruises into the skin there to mark her with me, teeth nipping and tongue lapping to soothe the stings. Sexy little breaths are drawn from my girl as she pants for me, the soft moans scattered throughout spearing me right in the dick—the dick I shove up into her in punishing, frenzied motions, chasing both our releases, starving for her cum to seep through her underwear and mine to meet my skin beneath.

Tate.

It’s in my head that she speaks this time, and I grunt at the velvety texture of it gliding along the walls of my mind. “Mhmmm, fuck. Again, again, again . . .”

She does, and euphoria rushes through me as I hear her in my head once more. Her hips meeting mine, our bodies collide again and again as if I’m actually inside her, and all the while, my own mind growls back, Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine . . .

I change the angle of my hips before punching them up again, the head of my cock nudging against her clit, and I earn a louder moan for that. So I do it again and again, fingers leaving their imprint on her skin as I clutch her to me tighter while attempting to hold off the orgasm that’s already tried to take over far too many times. I’m not giving in yet. I don’t ever want this to end. I want to savour every moment.

But I can’t stop it anymore when Ezla cries out, her head tipping back against the wall and the warmth between her thighs increasing as her thong soaks with her release, her nails digging into the back of my neck.

“Havoc!” I roar as my cock pulses with a never-ending stream of cum, hips jerking and jolting. My body the most alive it’s ever been, rapture floods me from head to toe, my fingers sinking deeper into her flesh as I groan deliriously. The pleasure is so great, it’s fucking painful. I want to feel this way forever. I have to chain her to me.

It’s over far too soon, and I’m a heaving, sweaty mess, skin sliding against hers in a way that makes my sensitive dick twitch all over again. “Love you, love you, love you . . .” I chant my next mantra and pepper her damp skin with kisses.

Still quivering with aftershocks, her palms move between us to push me back, and my attention flicks down to where they look so small against my broad chest . . . before it shifts up to those stunning mismatched eyes, the crimson scar slashed through the right one on my left only magnifying her beauty, adding a crueller look to her that turns me the fuck on.

But when I think of how bad it must’ve hurt to get and who put it there, a snarl rises up my throat.

I want to know everything about her, especially who the fuck sliced up her goddamn enthralling face and why the scar is that colour when Avri clearly got to it before it should’ve scarred at all; rather than simply healing the wound, it appears to have filled it in, either keeping it open like a messy stitching or maybe it is completely healed and left a mark. But nothing adds up with the way all Avri clusters can be commanded to change colour, ordered to be undetectable to the eye when used in hospitals for any kind of treatment. Something is up, and I’ll find out what.

But right now, I’m aware this isn’t the time. This is the happiest moment of my life, and I’m not ruining that by hurting my Havoc in any way by bringing up what’s very likely trauma.

“Love you,” I breathe again, one more time, and lean in to kiss the tip of her nose. But she shifts out of my reach before my lips can make contact, and my heart drops like a lead weight.

But I understand.

This is over.

For now.