Page 43 of Wicche Hunt

“That made up for many years of nogasms.”

“Nogasms?” His fingertips swirled lazily on my stomach. It should have tickled but didn’t.

“No partnergasms.” Sex was miserable when you could hear every thought and experience every sex-related issue. I used to drink to dull the voices. The sex was still horrible, but I had the added bonus of heading down the alcoholic path in life. Deciding it wasn’t at all worth it, I gave up partnergasms.

“Ah. Happy to help in any way possible,” he growled, his beard tickling as he kissed a trail over my shoulder.

Still joined at the happy place, I realized I was feeling full to bursting again. “How?”

Chuckling, he moved my leg, opening me up, resting it on his own. Slowly, very slowly, he began to rock while the fingers on my stomach moved lower and the one at my breast brushed over my nipple.

It didn’t take long before exhaustion was forgotten and there was only Declan. Writhing, I tried to feel every inch of him, be felt by every inch of him. The tremors were gaining strength when I felt his teeth on my shoulder. It didn’t hurt. If anything, it seemed to intensify the orgasm for both of us.

Panting, spent, I rolled away from him. “Don’t even think about it. I need sleep.”

“Me too. Let’s get cleaned up first, though.” He was already up and dragging me from the bed. “Come on. Quick shower, sheet change, and then we sleep. Okay?”

I stumbled after him, legs weak. When he turned on the water and tried to pull me in with him, I squawked. “Dude, if I get this hair wet, it’s at least an hour of drying and conditioning.” I began coiling it all up, and he took advantage of my arms being over my head to use both his hands all over my body.

“I’d like to remind you about how those long, sexy curls of yours might have brushed over a lot of me while parts of me might have been covered in bodily fluids.”

I stopped what I was doing and dropped my arms, my hair cascading down my back.Damn. He was right. “From now on, hair gets tied up before any messing around commences.”

“Noted.” He pulled me into the shower with him.

An ancillary benefit of all this hair was that he wanted to wash it and he gave a great scalp massage. Although the scalp massage did lead to other water sports, we were finally back in a clean bed, my damp hair in a special towel. Snuggled into his side, we were both out within minutes.

EIGHTEEN

The Vibe Has Changed

Iwoke to knocking and my phone buzzing. Reaching for the phone, I knocked over a handwritten note. Detective Hernández was on the phone. I swiped and answered. “Yes?”

“Oh, good. Are you home now? I’m on your deck.”

“You’re—um.” I looked around. I was alone in bed and naked. “Okay. I just woke up. Give me a few to get up and ready.”

“Sorry, Arwyn. I didn’t mean to wake you.” The roar of the surf almost drowned out her words.

“S’okay. Give me a few and I’ll be down.” I ended the call and read the note.

Good morning.I put drops of seawater on all the parts of you I could see. You should be good to go after last night. Call me when you wake up. D

I went to the bathroom to take care of necessities and deal with my hair. I didn’t usually sleep this long, and I went to bed with it damp. “Oh, come on!” We’d conditioned it, so the curls were glossy and healthy, but one side was matted down and the other bouncy. Could I spell it? Sure. I’d done that a lot over the years. Spelling made it frizzy, though. Damn it.

Slipping on a robe, I went back out and leaned on the half wall overlooking the studio. Flicking my fingers, I opened the shutters and blinked in the too-sudden brightness before unlocking and opening the back door.

“Detective Hernández?” I called.

She appeared in the doorway a moment later. “I like the new benches.”

“Thanks. Declan made them. I need to deal with my hair. Why don’t you come in and sit down?”

“Sure. Go ahead.” She moved to study the corridor painting while I ran back into the bathroom. After sending Declan a quick text, thanking him for the seawater droplets and letting him know Hernández was here, I hopped into the shower to wet my hair down again. Could I have just worked on the flat side without going back in the shower? Sure. But it would have taken longer. After lightly conditioning, I began the drying process again. As it was daytime, I’d dry it until it stopped dripping and then let the air and sun do the rest.

Dressed and ready, I finally went down to find Hernández texting on her phone.

“Sorry about that.”

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