Page 118 of De-Witched

“Trust me.”

Warily, he spread his arms. When she began to wrap the pinstripe around the slats of the headboard and then around his wrist, the question slipped out. “What are you doing?”

“Tying you to the bed.”

“I see. And the reason for this is?”

She knotted the tie, tugged. Nodded before clambering over him to mirror the action with his other wrist and the black tie. “To immerse you in your role.” She pointed. “Powerless human.”

“But I don’t technically need my hands.” Although telekinesis wasn’t his specialty, he stroked a fine line down her neck and saw her shiver. Clamped down on the vicious ache that gripped his neck.

Blue eyes cut to his. “No. It causes you pain. I don’t ever want to cause you pain.”

Something hard lodged in his chest. Because he knew, despite her best efforts, she would.

“Besides,” she added with a nod of satisfaction at her other knot. “Hands off was the rule, in every sense. And you’re a rule follower, aren’t you?”

“I’m beginning to feel I shouldn’t have agreed to this.” He tested the restraints. They weren’t incredibly tight but were tighter than he’d expected.

She knelt next to him. “We can stop.”

He studied the ties, then her face. “I trust you.”

Everything about her softened. She shifted to swing a leg over his waist. The rough fabric of her jeans abraded his belly as she planted her hands on his chest. “You ready to lose control?”

“Do you think you can make me?”

Challenge gleamed in her face. “Take it like a human, Gabe.” And so saying, she kissed him.

It was a study in sin, a deep caress of tongue, the perfect pressure of lips, the nip of teeth. He sank into it, into her, desperate for more, for what he could get. He wanted to absorb this memory, hide it away to always remember.

She broke away when his chest was heaving, her own breathing unsteady. She dragged her mouth down his throat and beyond. She left no part of his chest untouched, her lips and tongue and teeth tracing every square inch until his breath was short and sharp and he throbbed everywhere. When she settled over him, he ground his teeth, pleasure a sharp arc.

“Please,” he ground out. “I want you naked.”

“Compromise.” Her voice was raw, as affected as him. She pulled off her sweater, tossing it behind her. She was left in a black lacy bra, black jeans and sky-blue nails that she scored lightly down his belly, heading for his underwear.

He couldn’t help the bump of his hips, even as he said through his teeth, “Leah, you don’t...”

She hushed him, sliding her hands into his underwear, pushing them down his thighs, his shins, off. She moved back up, smoothing hands that were soft but intent up his legs, making him shudder. When she gripped him, his spine arched and a muffled groan flew from his mouth.

She didn’t let him have a respite, one hand firm at the base. Every inch of him was alive as he watched her mouth near his cock.

“Leah,” he said again in a near-moan. “You don’t have to—”

Her tongue darted out, licked the drop of pre-come off. His hips arched and his eyes slammed shut. Every breath was an effort as she teased him, her tongue working him like she knew every secret fantasy, every hidden desire. Any thought of resisting so he could stay in control fled. All his thoughts were of her, her and her hot, talented mouth.

When she took him in, he heard something smash into the wall, but neither stopped. The bed shook under them as his magic leaked out, sending a fine shiver of pain into the pleasure as she worked him, her hand below what her mouth could manage.

Pleasure was a fever inside him and he braced, his hands straining at the bonds to grip her, hold her, work her in return. Black spots danced with the green sparks and he shouted as she firmed her hold, as she sucked so hard her cheeks hollowed. And then he was there, his whole body shaking as he shot into the stratosphere, touched the stars before slamming back into his boneless body.

Sweat glistened over him as she sat back. Her nipples strained against her thin bra and her skin was sheened, body trembling. Aroused even as she slid a hand over her own stomach. He couldn’t not watch as her head fell back.

“Gabe,” she moaned.

“Release me.” It was half command, half plea.

“Yes.”

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