Bound By His SpellBound By His Spell

Mikayla isn't allowed to fall in love. She had fallen once already to disastrous consequences. The mage who bound her to him was sadistic, taking her pain for his pleasure with bondage and machines, toying with her humiliation until she begs for him to fill her. His love for her is consuming. Devouring.

Her relationship with Bruce was doomed from the start, but when the man continues to return to the carnival, she can't keep herself from falling more and more for him.

When Damien finds out, there will be hell to pay.

For just a moment more with Bruce, she is willing to pay any price.

~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~

“And how do you decide who gets to win?” he asked.

“Well, as a general rule, I imagine someone who wear three-piece suits to carnivals won't need a five-dollar toy,” she said.

He was just opening his mouth to argue that he had come in after work when she gave another tug to his lapel and pulled him even closer, erasing the distance between their mouths. Their lips closed together in a careless way, a mash of lips and teeth that hurt for a second before he regained his composure and seized control, curling his hand on the back of her head and tilted her head just so, his free hand wrapping around her waist and lifting up so he did not have to bend his head down so low.

She sighed into the kiss, tongue darting out lightly to beckon him to deepen the kiss. His mind reeled dizzily as their tongues slid against each other.

He tasted honey and rum. It was too early for drinking, but that didn't seem to have deterred her. She did not smelled like she had drunk enough to be intoxicated. Tipsy, perhaps.

He wondered if this was some sort of trap. It would not be the first time a challenger had come at him through disingenuous means. This would be worrisome. He did not think anyone in his life knew about his attraction to winged folk, let alone his enemies.

He told himself that he should put a stop to this as he curled his fingers in her hair with the intention of wrenching this dangerous creature away from him, but he found himself tugging her closer, guiding them further into the both around the corner away from the prying eyes of passersby. He pins her against the wall of the booth, the whole thing swaying lightly, warning him not to put too much pressure on the wall, lest the foundation give way and the entire thing collapses. It was not built to last.

He broke away to the sound of her laughter and he growled as he captured her lips once more, swallowing the pleased noises she was making. Her hands came up to paw at his chest beneath his suit jacket, unbuttoning first his light grey waistcoat and then beginning on the shirt beneath it. When she reached the upper button, covered by the black tie that he had loosened earlier that evening, she snorted and pulled the tie over his head.

“You're ridiculous,” she teased, hands reaching now to glide through his hair, alternating between gentle strokes and tight, demanding twists as their mouths moved together.

He groaned and pressed her against the wall, forgetting that it would not hold their weight and almost losing his footing as the entire wall seemed to tilt.

She laughed again and wrapped her legs around him flaring her wings wide to keep them balanced.

“This is not the place for this,” he uttered, pulling back with great reluctance.

With a gracefulness that he was quickly growing envious of, she reached one impossibly large wing over to a rope suspended at the corner of the wall and hooked the rope that was suspended at the corner of the wall. There were sharp hooks at the shoulders of her wings that he had not noticed before and it glinted in the light for a second before she tugged the rope with her wing and released a sheet that dropped over the front of the booth, dropping them both in near darkness.