The bond still spoke.
Even after everything — the public rejection, the blood and escape, the years of exile, the neutral sensitizer pulsing through his veins — the scarred mate bond between us refused to die completely.
I kept Justin on his knees as the midday sun burned high, flooding the treatment room with merciless golden light. The neutral sensitizer thrummed through his body in perfect waves, sharpening every nerve until the air felt like fire on wet skin. His thighs shook violently. Sweat carved glistening rivers down the hard contours of his chest and abdomen. His c**k hung heavy and flushed between his spread thighs, the head swollen and glistening, leaking in thick, rhythmic drops that fell onto the sheets with soft, obscene sounds.
I straddled his lap and sank down onto his
