Page 53 of Witch's Wolf

I step back, retreating to the corner of the bathtub. Cool marble presses against my thighs as I sit, one leg hooking over the side, my chest rising and falling with every ragged breath.

This time, Sam doesn’t let his gaze wander.

This time, his eyes stay right where I want them.

Another grunt rumbles from his chest, rough and raw. He kneels before me, hands pressing against my inner thighs, spreading me wide.

I brace myself against the cool marble, every nerve in my body tight with anticipation. Then contact. Sam’s mouth crashes against my clit and a shockwave of pleasure slams through me.

“God, I missed you so much…” I moan, my thighs trembling as his lips mold to me, kissing me like he’s starving, like I’m the only thing that can satisfy his hunger.

Heat coils deep in my belly, muscles clenching, desperate for more of him. I don’t have to ask. He knows. He always knows.

His tongue slides lower, tracing a slow, deliberate path down my slit. The tip teases, flirts, strokes through my slick folds with a precision that makes my breath catch.

One hand glides up, cupping my breast, the thumb circling my nipple, teasing it into a hard peak. The other moves lower, fingers pressing against my entrance.

His tongue flicks against my clit, a sharp jolt of pleasure striking through me as a finger pushes inside, stretching.

“Oh—yes,” I gasp, pushing my hips forward.

Sam groans, the vibration sending a pulse of pleasure through my core. His finger sinks deeper, slow and measured, before withdrawing, only to plunge in again, this time further. My breath stutters. I fist his hair, tilting my head forward. The sight of him between my legs. His sharp jaw, those ravenous lips, the flicker of his tongue working its magic. It’s almost too much.

The steady pull and push of his touch, the way he rolls my nipple between his fingers, the way he worships me with his mouth, it all collides into something unstoppable.

My glutes tighten, my thighs quivering as I rock against him, chasing the rush.

Then he buries his finger to the knuckle, curling just right, sending pleasure detonating through my body.

A strangled moan tears from my lips. My back arches, hands slamming against the wall as my orgasm surges through, relentless and all-consuming. I barely register the sounds I’m making. Raw, wrecked, lost in him.

Dimly, I feel his mouth on me still, pressing soft, reverent kisses to my oversensitive flesh. His finger slides free, leaving me trembling.

“Stop,” I pant, my voice wrecked, thick with satisfaction. My body feels heavy, boneless, yet still wanting. “Stop, or I’m going to want round two.”

A slow, wicked grin spreads across his lips. Like I ever had a choice.

“I’ve got no problem with that.” Sam’s voice is thick, his lips curling into a slow, knowing smile. “I’d love it if you turned around, though.”

Heat flares in my chest, not just from his words but from the challenge in his eyes. Always pushing. Always testing my restraint.

“Oh, you—” I let out a breathless grunt and grab his shoulders, nails digging in just enough to make him feel it. “Don’t you know when you’ve teased me enough?”

He doesn’t answer. Just watches me with that steady, unshakable confidence, like he already knows exactly what I’ll do next. And damn it, he’s right.

I push him backward, forcing him to stretch out beneath me, his muscles flexing under my hands. My pulse stutters, the weight of his gaze pinning me in place as I hover over him. His body is a furnace against mine, each breath, each shift, setting me alight.

“Come here,” he murmurs, his voice rough, almost desperate.

I shudder, anticipation coiling tight inside. Slowly, I lower myself, my hands sliding over the hard planes of his chest. Every inch of me is attuned to him. The way his breath hitches, the possessive grip of his hands on my hips, the unmistakable need in his eyes. A slow, wicked smile tugs at my lips.

“Is all this for me?”

His answering growl vibrates through my bones, his fingers tightening, pulling me closer.

“What do you think?”

I don’t answer. I don’t need to. The air between us crackles, thick with longing, with unspoken words and a hunger neither of us can deny.

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