Page 139 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

She’s never looked so beautiful.

It’s the closest thing to the sight we all want to see from her that any of us have ever seen, the closest to that carefree happiness me and the other men want to help her reach by slaughtering her demons as brutally as she slaughters Players in The Bonding Games. “Are you all hard and weeping for me, Puppet?”

A choked sound leaves me, and I moan into her, instinctively wrapping my lips around that hardened bud when she uses her hand in my hair to guide me to it.

Puppet.

I . . . I really, really liked that.

“You do?” There’s glee in the question to match her expression, and it doesn’t bother me that she’s in my head—quite the opposite, in fact. She’s so open right now, and it’s paradise. It’s all I want: to know and have every part of her and to bring out the ones someone’s so clearly repressed.

I do, I answer in my mind as I hesitantly suck on her clit, wondering if that’s a pleasurable thing to do, and my answer comes in the form of a soft moan from my Bonded that has rapturous chills trembling through me.

“You are such a good boy for me . . . and such a little slut.”

My nails imprint crescents into her thighs as a high mewl escapes me, and from the way her eyes roll back in her head, I think she likes the vibrations.

Never in my life did I think I’d enjoy being called a slut, especially with all the bullying, the name-calling, over the years. But from her lips, it’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.

Yes . . . I’m your slut.

“I want to be her slut, too.” I vaguely hear Tiger’s quiet whine in the background, but he’s obviously trying to behave for both mine and Ezla’s sakes, to give me this moment all to myself and please his Bonded too.

“Very good,” Ezla purrs, then a curt, “Flick.”

My tongue does as it’s told of its own accord, flicking her little bundle of nerves, repeating the action again, then another time, when I see how much she likes it.

“Do not stop,” she demands, but I don’t miss the hoarseness in her voice, and pleasure sneaks through me at the knowledge I’m the one who put it there, who’s making her lose her composure in the best way possible: I’m doing this. I’m satisfying her. I’m making her happy.

“More now, Puppet,” she pants, hooking a long, slim leg around the back of my neck to secure me in place. As if I’d ever willingly leave this spot. “I want that tongue inside me. Show me what you can do. Show me what you are good for.”

Nerves all but forgotten under her domination, I plunge my tongue inside of her without pausing to think it through.

“Fuck,” Ezla moans, and my round eyes dart back up in time to watch as her neck extends when she throws her head back, her hair pooling on the pillow beneath her. “That’s a good slut.”

Lashes fluttering closed, I sink my tongue deeper, bathing myself in everything that is her as I lick along her walls with her direction, giving her anything she wants, and in turn, everything I want.

“Give me your fingers,” she orders huskily, so I do, bringing them to her clit. They brush against her own where she still holds herself open for me, and, uncertain exactly where she meant and not wanting to let her down, I also sink one digit inside her alongside my tongue, feeling her stretch around me. “Rub,” she groans, and I do that, too, rubbing both her swollen bundle and her inner walls with the pads of my fingers, grinding my cock mindlessly into the bed again while I do with a small sound.

Her breathing grows more laboured, and I keep up my movements, rhythm nearly frantic now.

A tingling starts at the base of my spine, and I’ve only felt anything like this once before, on the day she first allowed one of us to have a part of her, and I had my first ever orgasm without even touching myself. I whimper at the sensation, but I don’t pay much mind to it, too absorbed in my task.

Please, please, please come for me. I’m . . . I’m a good slut.

I’m not sure if I mean to send the plea out like I do, but with the way a velvet cloud of smoke strokes along the insides of my brain in response, I know she’s received it.

And then her pussy squeezes my tongue and finger.

She rasps out my name sinfully.

Her back arches off the bed in a stunning arc.

Sweetness floods my tastebuds.

I combust.

My cock jerks in the confines of my clothing, and it’s a good thing Avri suits are designed to absorb and help dry liquid because the amount of cum that comes out is obscene, and maybe I’d be mortified if I didn’t feel like my head’s floating in the clouds right now, my body right along with it. I keep moving my fingers and tongue, remembering Scotty and Tiger doing that to draw her pleasure out and help ease her down, while my moan vibrates through her again as I keep coming in hot spurts.