Sophie Oak: Bound

At the instant of her orgasm, she would have sworn she could feel herself as though she was Beck. His fingers pressed high into her heat as though for the slightest moment she could feel what he was feeling, warmth, sweet wetness, and a rigid hardness begging to be set loose. It had been so odd. It was almost as if, for that moment, she had been inside Beck. She had shared what his body experienced as he brought her to orgasm. She’d felt so connected to him in that moment. It was an intimacy like nothing she’d felt before.

Meg floated down. She was suddenly aware that Beck had pulled his fingers from her pussy and wrapped both arms around her. He hugged her to his hard body. Meg, her entire being pleasantly lethargic, decided this had to be the best wet dream ever. She let her head rest against his shoulder. She had never in her life come so fast and so hard. It was just a sweet dream, and she should hold on to it. Any minute the alarm would go off, and she would have to face another day at the Software 4 U store. Being Beck’s love slave was much more interesting.

Beck kissed her one last time, his mouth playing sweetly against hers. He seemed as satisfied as she was, though he couldn’t possibly be. His hands played with her breasts for a moment, and she could feel her own juice on her skin. He brought his right hand up to his mouth and sucked his fingers in, licking her cream. He finally placed an almost chaste kiss on the tip of her nose and stepped back.

“Aye, love, you’ll do.” With that, he started out the door.

Meg’s head came up, perfectly unimpressed with that bit of wooing. She’d been utterly overwhelmed by what they had just shared, and he said that to her? Damn it, even the men in her dreams were unromantic. That sounded like the line from Babe .

“Seriously, that’s what I get? I’ll do? Screw you, Beck. Send in the next guy. We’ll see if he can do better.” Meg decided the next guy might be even hotter. He would be French or maybe Italian. She liked Beck’s Irish accent, but she’d always loved Italy.

Beck turned around, and Meg found herself shrinking back again. His gray eyes were as hard as stones, and his demeanor had changed from lazy to menacing in a heartbeat. “What did you say, love?”

The question was a challenge. The chill in his voice almost made her shiver.

“Nothing,” Meg replied, swallowing nervously. She had a healthy sense of self-preservation that was kicking into full throttle now as Beck stalked back toward her.

“Best you say nothing right now, love, if you can’t say something sweet.” Beck’s entire body was rigid, every muscle screaming his frustration. “I am tired. I rode all night to get here before the tournament. I have eaten very little, and now I’m horny as hell. I am not in a good mood. You should understand that one of your goals in life should be to keep me in a good mood. You have no idea the trouble you’re going to cause me.”

Though she was so tired, Meg held her head up. The very last thing she needed was to be told how much trouble she was. She knew. She’d been told her whole life by a mother and father who hadn’t really wanted her and a husband who felt the same. She might be in chains, but she held on to her pride. “I wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble. Please feel free to not purchase me.”

Beck sighed. Meg sensed the weariness in him. That connection she had felt during the sex seemed like it was still open. His emotions were almost palpable to her. His tiredness went far past the physical. Meg knew it invaded his soul. His shoulders slumped slightly forward. She had the sudden desire to wrap her arms around him, to lend him her strength.

“I have waited years for this day,” he explained in an emotionless voice. “You cannot understand the joy I should feel at finding you. I do feel joy, but if there was any other choice, I would walk away from you. I can offer you nothing. I’m going to spend the last of my gold entering the tournament. I won’t even have the money to feed you. If I had an ounce of pride left, I would let you go, but my brother is dying. I can’t allow that to happen. You’re the only one who can save him. I swear on everything I am that I will find a way to take care of you.”

He started to turn to leave. Meg felt tears welling in her eyes. She didn’t understand everything he said, but she knew he meant it. Even in chains and terrified for her life, she felt safe with this man. Somehow, she’d formed a strange connection with him in those moments his hands had been on her body. “Stop.”

Beck turned to her, his stance wary. She knew he was waiting for her to yell at him again. She couldn’t blame him. She had been a little difficult.

“My name is Meg,” she said softly.

She was rewarded with a slight curling of his lips. His pitch-black hair was gathered in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. Meg wondered how it would feel flowing all around her. “I like that, Meg. I’ll call you my own sweet Meggie.”

“If I help you with your brother, will you let me go home?”

The smile died, and Meg wished she hadn’t asked the question. “I told you, I am your home now, me and Cian. There’s no way back, love. Even if there was, I wouldn’t let you take it.”

Meg nodded. She accepted the situation for now. Things might be different later, when she wasn’t chained up. Hopefully, he wouldn’t keep her chained forever. “Are you going to buy me now?”

The sooner he bought her, the faster they could leave this place. She knew from what he said previously that he didn’t live here. On the road, there might be more opportunities to get away.

Beck shook his head. “It’s not like that, love. This is a tourney. The gnomes make more money this way. Every male who wants to purchase you buys into the tourney. We then fight until there’s only one left standing. That man will be your master.”

“But what if you don’t win?” Meg was now horrified at the thought. There were other men? How bad would they be? At least Beck had proven he could be somewhat kind.

A slow, intensely confident smile split his gorgeous face. “Don’t go worrying, love. I always win.”

He walked out of the tent, letting the heavy curtain fall back into place. Meg was alone again. It was rapidly becoming evident that this wasn’t a weird dream. She had really been taken to some strange place. Maybe once she got outside the compound, she would be able to tell what country she was in. The people seemed to speak English, but there had been that strange lilting language as well. Gaelic, Rhys had said. Yes, she thought, she would be able to get away and contact the police.

Her head came up as a squat woman entered the room with a pitcher and washcloths. Meg sighed. She was getting used to being bathed. The little woman would be professional and gentle. In truth, Meg realized she should be happy that the woman was here, humming as she went about her work. Beck had left her with the evidence of her orgasm all over her thighs and pussy. It would be rather embarrassing for someone else to come in and find her covered in her own juices.

The short, blonde woman smiled up as she washed away Meg’s reaction to Beck. “Don’t worry, miss. His Highness will be kind to you.”

“His Highness?” Meg asked, but the woman finished her work. With a mysterious smile, she walked out. “And what the hell did he mean by gnomes?”

Beckett Finn, the former heir to the Seelie throne, sank into the too-small chair in the gnome’s tiny but well-appointed office. Everything seemed too small right now. His trousers certainly were. Touching Meg had him hard enough to pound nails with his cock.

She was the one. He knew it deep in his soul. He had been able to feel what was happening to her at the moment of her orgasm. It had taken everything he had not to form the bond with her that moment, but now was not the time, and certainly not the place. Forming a bond with his soul’s mate was a sacred thing, and he wouldn’t do it here. He was going to have to put her through too much to force that on her as well.