Page 16 of Where Exorcists Cannot Lie

I intended to signal for Inuel not to approach me, but he’d already emerged before me, his long alpha legs be damned. He bent down, his hand cupping my chin. “What is it? Tell me.”

He stood so close, well within the range of my personal space for the first time. Crowding me. Touching me. I could smell the pashija oil he used to tame his hair. I could smell him, my nostrils full of that rich, earthy fragrance. My breathing turned to panting.

Inuel blinked. His pupils widened.

I fixed my gaze on his parted lips. And then I lost it. I grabbed the back of his head with both hands and pulled him towards me by the nape.

The next thing I knew, I captured his mouth with mine, sliding my fingers into his hair.

Inuel tensed for a moment. But he didn’t veto the events, judging by the abrupt manner in which his arms encircled my waist to lift me from the chair. He pressed me to his chest like a bounty, making me wrap my thighs around his waist. All while sucking on my tongue.

My blood turned to fire. I clung to him as though my life depended on it. I couldn’t get enough of his closeness, ravenous for the velvety feel of his bare skin under my palms. I never wanted to let go of him.

Once we disengaged, Inuel trailed his lips down my jaw and towards my ear, nipping at the shell of it.

“Taz,” he whispered, his voice swollen with an emotion I’d never heard in his tone before. I couldn’t see his face—he still held me tight, our bodies inseparable. “Do you want—”

“Yes, gods, yes. I really do,” I mumbled into his temple, trembling. At this stage, I worried about exploding my load into my robes. “But whatever it is, you have to do it now.”

Inuel’s warm breath tickled my neck. “What if I bent you over this table and fucked you hard and fast?” he growled. “What would you say to that?”

“Yes, please,” I huffed, grinding the rigid part of me into his abdomen to demonstrate I stood firm on the matter in every sense.

Inuel grunted and put me down. He went for another snog before turning me around. My tunic went up and my trousers came down in two yanks.

Cool air hit my bare arse as he stepped away from me.

I looked over my shoulder. “What—”

“Shh.” Inuel reappeared, a low kitchen stool in his hands. “We just need a tiny adjustment. Now hop on it, bend over and hold on to the table.”

I couldn’t comply fast enough.

He rewarded my haste with a growl. “Beautiful.”

True to his word, Inuel did just as he promised. Hard and fast it went down, the pashija oil in his trouser pocket coming in handy.

The instant his hot shaft entered me, it had me frantic. Inuel settled inside me and gripped my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh with that delicious pressure I’d craved. I didn’t even need to touch myself. I lasted about as long as I expected, which would have been embarrassing if Inuel hadn’t followed close behind me.

He didn’t knot me afterwards. I yearned for that, but I didn’t ask him to do it. Neither did I allow that small letdown to take away from my bliss.

The climax left me boneless and devoid of thoughts, my limbs heavy with pleasant languor. In my haze, I hardly registered when he cleaned me off with a towel. At one point, I thought I heard him whispering, “I missed you,” into my temple, but the next second I couldn’t say I hadn’t imagined it.

“Taz, come here,” he murmured, flipping me around to sit me on the tabletop. He wedged himself between my open legs, holding me, stroking my cheeks and my hair. We kissed for a long time. This novel intimacy stunned me more than anything else Inuel had done so far. While I’d always been tactile—too tactile for most manly men I’d known—Inuel hadn’t shown such a predilection. But I didn’t let my bewilderment impair my enjoyment of the gift that had come my way.

“You want a bath?” Inuel asked, stepping away from me, a crooked smile stretching his lips. “There’s warm water on the stove. Well, warmish.”

“I do,” I said, contemplating my sweaty and sticky state. “But it’s too much work. I wish I could just Magic it out.”

“I’ll do it. You just sit here.”

“Sitting here is also too much work,” I mumbled, wrinkling my nose. “My spine has turned to dough.”

He snorted and set about the preparations.

I’d describe the water as tepid at best. It filled no more than one-third of the large copper tub we used for hygienic pursuits. However, it turned out to be the best bathing experience I’d ever had. Not only did Inuel carry me into the wet room and lower me into the soak, but he also went about washing me as though it were a natural thing to do.

I kept quiet, too baffled and satisfied to prattle. I peered up at him. The amusing expression of concentration he sported almost rivalled his barrabeko face. But then I let my eyes close, enjoying the comfortable silence and the slow, sensual massage. I hadn’t felt so pampered in…well, ever.

---