Page 40 of My Hexed Honeymoon

“That’s your fault. All that brooding and stomping through the woods and setting up camp. You providing warmth and shelter makes me want to be the Jane to your Tarzan, even though I’m a strong independent woman.”

“Don’t worry, I promise not to be gentle.” I crash my mouth over hers as I delve my fingers into her slick, ready entrance, devouring her gasp and teaching her tongue a new rhythm—mine.

And she is mine. Even if she hates it.

Even if I do, too.

Matching each swipe of my tongue with the strokes of my fingers, I spread her wetness over her, the world going hazy as her every twitch and whimper encourages me on.

Even when I close my eyes lately, she’s all I see. The bounce of her curls and the curve of her neck. I hear the skidding of her pulse and inhale her scent, and I can’t get enough of her taste.

At the glimmer of hesitation on her end, I gather all my self-restraint and pause in place, my entire body protesting the idea of stopping when the bonddemandsbeing fed.

“I still want to throat-punch you,” she says, and I chuckle.

“You’re free to try.” I brush my mouth over hers in a punishing kiss. “But I don’t show my throat to anyone.”

She whips up a hand, but I’m faster. I manacle her wrist in my fingers and pin her arm over her head. Then I make a long appraisal of her body, not bothering to hold back my blatant appreciation.

I grow harder as she writhes beneath me.

“So what?” she asks in a raspy voice that I feel down to my balls. “Tonight we share body heat and screw each other’s brains out, and in the morning we go back to being enemies?”

“Probably,” I say, my voice gruff with desire. I wedge myself tighter between her thighs, resuming my ministrations with my fingers as I part her lips with my tongue. “But tonight, we just get to let it happen.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Ragged breaths fill the tent,the snapping, crackling desire hotter than any campfire.

Diego’s mouth is on mine, coaxing me to open further to him, body and soul.

Each languid stroke of his fingers and tongue is undoing me in the most exquisite of ways, and I long for him to destroy me again and again. He’s cocky and immovable and occasionally a gentleman, and I don’t know how to deal with him any other way than giving in.

Especially since it feels so damn good to let go.

“Diego,” I breathe, arching into his touch, wrapping my fingers around his muscular shoulders and digging my nails lightly into his skin.

“Don’t worry,bruja.” He swipes his tongue along my upper lip before capturing my lower one between his teeth and giving it a teasing nip. “I’ll let you come, but I’m not nearly finished with you yet.”

My magic gathers within me and zings, screaming and begging for more.

I’ve never had it intertwined with sex like this, the few times I indulged with human boys were few and far between.

Nothing even close to this, or I’d have become a sex fiend.

This is like oxygen after years underwater, fire that doesn’t get put out with rain.

I cry out as he plunges a finger inside me, his thumb finding my clit and circling it with a singular focus—pleasure.

“Have I warmed you up yet?” His arrogant question dissolves on my lips. “You’re absolutely soaked.”

“Please Diego, I need it more than I need my next breath,” I say, glancing up at him with a level of supplication I’ve never reached with anyone else, far too horny to be embarrassed.

Maybe if I can rid myself of this constant, needy ache between my legs, I can concentrate on something besides how Diego looks and how he walks, talks, and does every-fucking-thing, and how much he drives me crazy.

Diego pulls back, and I knew it—I should’ve let him in on how badly I need a release. People always use my desires and emotions against me.

But then I watch, transfixed, as he pops the fingers he had inside me in his mouth and sucks them clean.

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