Page 58 of Hexes and Exes

“Hey. It’s cold.” I say the most asinine thing because my brain can’t compute what’s going on here. Bram picks up my other foot and pulls off that sock, letting it fly somewhere over his shoulder. When he grabs at the ankles of my pants, I squeal and hold on to the waist.

“What are you doing?” My voice is high and not at all sexy. Bram lifts his gaze from my hands and stares so deep into my eyes I forget everything in that moment. My name, where we are, the fact that someone like Bram will forget me in a week and it will be like I never existed.

“I’m going to eat you out until you scream my name.”

I gape at him, too stunned to reply. My pants come off and a gust of cold air makes goosebumps break out over my bare legs. Bram’s eyes darken, the shadows flickering around his body as his eyes skate down to my panties. They’re plain white cotton. Nothing special. Thank fuck they’re not granny panties, but it’s not like they’re La Perla or some shit. They came in a six-pack, but Bram is staring at them like they’re the sexiest scrap of fabric he’s ever seen.

He’s not wearing a coat, even though it’s freezing outside. Still, he has way more clothing on than me, with a sweatshirt, jeans, and boots.

His hands are holding my ankles, and they slowly slide up my legs inch by inch. “Who do these legs belong to?” His voice rumbles and I shiver at the intensity.

“Seeing how they’re attached to my body, I’d say me.” I’m proud I manage to get out a complete sentence.

Bram’s narrowed gaze flicks up to me and then back down to the juncture between my thighs. He climbs onto the bed and lifts one of my legs, dragging his mouth from the ankle to my calf, then up to my knee. My breaths come out in little puffs that I try to keep quiet. Fuck him. He doesn’t need to see how desperate I am for his touch.

His tongue and teeth leave a trail of dampness behind as he continues his journey up my leg, but his eyes never leave mine. I’m not going to look away first. I will win the dumbest fucking battle ever. As his hand follows a similar path on my other leg, it’s all I can do not to short circuit.

What the hell is happening right now? Men like Bram Blackthorn don’t pay attention to me. They don’t barge into my home and rip off my pants. They certainly don’t taste my skin like it’s ambrosia. I know we have some weird connection and that I basically told him I’d be down to fuck, the way friends do. But a huge part of me never thought it would really happen. I’m more freaked out than I’ve ever been and more turned on at the same time.

Bram’s fingers hook the edge of my underwear, coming dangerously close to my pussy.

“This is mine.” The backs of his fingers slide over my slit and there’s no way he doesn’t feel how wet I am. His nostrils flare and his breaths grow ragged. He drags a finger up my center, and I arch when he circles my clit. “All of this.” He pulls out his hand, holding up his glistening fingers. “Belongs to me.”

I watch in fascinated shock as he sticks his finger in his mouth and sucks. Holy shit. I’ve never believed in human combustion before, but this must be how it happens.

“Fuck.” The word slips out with my exhale.

“Who did you go off with tonight?” Bram asks, and I blink up at him in bleary confusion.

“Who?” My tongue can barely form the word.

Bram pulls off my underwear, shoves my thighs apart and buries his face between them.

“Oh, shit,” I cry out, my hands immediately twisting in his hair. His tongue is destroying me, lapping from bottom to top, sucking, swirling, and fucking owning me.

Bram lifts his head, his mouth drenched from me. “This belongs to me.” He dives back in, and some garbled and noncommittal sounds break free from my throat. Who the hell is this man? Mr. I-can’t-be-serious-with-someone is claiming he owns my body.

“Tell me,” he growls against my pussy, which should piss me off, but it’s so fucking hot. Why is this hot? Red flag. I should want a man who respects me and takes me dancing or fixes my toilet or something.

Bram fucks me with his tongue, and I shudder. Screw it, all those things are overrated.

“Tell me,” he commands, just before sucking on my clit.

“Oh fuck. Yes. It’s yours. Tattoo your fucking name on it, I don’t give a shit. Just make me come.”

Bram’s chuckle vibrates against my clit, and it pushes me over the edge. I’m coming before I know what’s happening. Bram pushes up to his knees, ripping his shirt off. Kicking off his boots and unbuttoning his jeans in a blur of motion. Every muscle is rippling, his shadows pulsing as though they have their own heartbeat. He’s menacing and mythical looking and so fucking gorgeous I can’t believe he’s real.

He shoves his pants down, unleashing his rock-hard cock. He strokes his hand down and back up. For one second, it’s as if a thimble full of sense seeps back in and his shadowy eyes lighten. “Are you on the potion?”

The potion? The one to protect from pregnancy and disease. “Oh. Yeah. Yep. Good to go.”

Why can’t I shut the fuck up?

A devious grin creeps up his face, and somehow, he’s even hotter than two seconds ago. He crawls back over me until his face hovers over mine. “I’m going to fuck you so good that you’ll forget anyone else besides me exists in this world.”

“Okay,” I choke out, having reverted back to a state of shock.

As if that’s all he was waiting for, he slams inside me. I’m so wet from his mouth that there’s barely any resistance, but Bram is much bigger than I’m used to. The cry gets trapped in my throat when he pulls back and thrusts in again. His hands shove at my shirt, pushing it up until my breasts are exposed.

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