Page 27 of The Witch's Rite
Her moan of approval has my low stomach tightening.
After taking a bite of bread, she looks up at me. “This is delicious. Thank you.”
She’s got some crumbs on her bottom lip, and I reach out to brush them away with my thumb. As soon as I swipe them off, she opens her lips and catches my thumb between her teeth, nipping me softly before pulling it into her mouth. Her tongue is warm and soft, and the look she gives me in the early-morning light makes my trousers tight.
Before I can ask her what she’s doing, she moves the breakfast tray to the nightstand and wraps her arms around myneck. When she presses her lips to mine, she tastes of honey and lavender.
Between kisses, I mumble, “Didn’t get enough last night?”
I didn’t mean for it to sound envious, but she breaks our kiss to pull away and look into my eyes.
“It’s been days since I last had you,” she says, voice still lilting with sleep. “I miss you.” She unwinds a hand from around my neck and brushes her fingers across my chest. “Please?”
She doesn’t have to ask twice.
I grip the hem of my tunic and yank it over my head before tossing the fabric across the room—probably not so unlike how Rowan did it, given his clothes were bunched in the corner this morning.
As I stand to pull the cord on my trousers free, Aurora moves to the edge of the bed. The blankets fall away, so I can see all of her now—the slope of her low back, the thin lines of her collarbones, the wispy hair between her legs.
Pushing my trousers down, I sigh as I spring free.
And Aurora is there a moment later, reaching out to wrap a hand around my length. Her hand is so warm, so soft. She strokes me from base to tip, looking up all the while with those bewitching green eyes of hers. But even that is no comparison to the feel of her mouth as she slips her lips past my tip and wraps them around my cock.
My head drops back, and my breath hitches. I can feel her tiny smile as she slides her mouth up and down my shaft. She grips my base with one hand and my balls with the other, giving me so many sensations I can barely focus. Pulling my head back up, I look down to find her mouth full, lips spread as wide as they’ll go. I’m almost too big for her mouth.
But she’s trying so hard for me. And the thought makes me even harder in her mouth.
As she pumps me, I reach down and push my hands through her tangled green hair. She lets out a moan around my cock, and the vibration has me curling my fingers into her hair, gripping her like she’s the only anchor holding me to this plane.
In response, she moves faster. Her tongue laps along the underside of my shaft, flicking that sensitive spot just below the head. As pressure builds, she squeezes my balls, making me twitch.
It takes everything in me not to fist her hair and drive myself into her mouth. I don’t think she could open wide enough for that.
My toes curl on the floorboards, and my eyes squeeze closed. With one final stroke of her lips over my dick, I explode into her mouth. She keeps pumping her head, and it makes me gasp with every release onto her tongue, my fingers digging into her hair.
I drain everything I have into her mouth, and when I finally open my eyes, I look down to find her gazing up at me, a bit of white trickling from the corner of her lips. She swallows, and just that has me almost ready to go again.
“You are remarkable,” I manage to say around my heavy breathing.
She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, then smiles at me.
I release my tight hold on her hair, then guide her slowly back onto the bed. The blankets whisper around our bodies as she lies down and I rest my body atop hers. She’s so small and warm beneath me, a delicate thing I want to cherish, to protect.
I’m still in awe that I get to be here with her, like this.
Shifting onto my side, I prop my head in one hand, and Aurora turns her head on her pillow.
“Your turn?” I whisper, using one finger to trace lazy circles down her chest, which is rising and falling rapidly with each ofher trembling breaths. Her nipples are hard, like little peaks in the morning light.
Instead of answering, she grips my hand in hers and guides it—none too coyly—to that pink place between her legs. At my first touch, she flinches, breath catching. I push my fingers down her slit and arch one brow.
“You’re soaked.”
Her resulting smile is a tiny beautiful thing.
I like seeing her this way, squirming on the bed, eyes still sleepy but full of want.
Taking my time, I brush my fingers across her folds, teasing her entrance without sliding into her. The whole time, I watch her face, delighting in the look of frustration that flashes across her eyes each time I circle her opening without dipping inside.
