Page 21 of Wooing the Wiccan
He steals another kiss before letting me tug him toward the door. Halfway there, I stop and go back for Marge. “If I leave her in here, she’ll go for the soup pot,” I explain. Letting my cat burn herself isn’t on my bingo card, ever.
“I’ll close the door,” he promises, following me out, and sure enough, I hear the snick of the latch catching. “Can she open doors? I know some cats can.”
I shake my head as I let her down on the couch. She glares, not happy about being moved, but settles down for a nap. “No, she hasn’t mastered that yet. I don’t close interior doors much, so she doesn’t get a lot of chances to practice.” Are we seriously talking about Marge right now? I need to find a way to rekindle the mood, fast.
I pull my shirt over my head.
Raðulfr’s eyes drop first to where my amethyst rests against my breastbone, then lower, widening as they take me in. I’m not ripped or anything—I’m a forty-two-year-old kindergarten teacher who prefers gardening to the gym—but I take care of myself, and Raðulfr clearly appreciates that.
He closes the distance between us. “You said something about satisfying me?”
“Right this way.”
I was hoping tonight would go this way, so I changed the sheets and tidied up my bedroom. I even left a bedside lamp on, so the room looks inviting and we don’t need to use the mood-killing overhead light. I’m already half-naked, so once I’ve closed the door to keep Marge out, I motion toward Raðulfr’s chest. “You’ve got some catching up to do.”
He doesn’t need further prompting, and by the time I get my pants and socks off, he’s not far behind. “Fast,” I murmur, sinking to my knees as his pants drop to the floor, but deliberately looking up at him and nowhere else.
“It’s amazing what a man can do with the right motivation.” His eyes are locked on my face, the hunger in them so flattering… and inspiring.
I lower my gaze at last, and I’m not disappointed. His cock is a generous handful, flushed dark red and already hard, his balls drawn up tight. I lean in and bury my face in the crease of his thigh, inhaling the musky scent of him, then rubbing my cheek against the hard length of his dick. His hands come to rest on my head, fingers twining into my hair but not grabbing.
“Are you going to tease me, then?” he asks, his voice husky.
“Hmm. Maybe.” I dart my tongue out to nudge against his left ball, and he inhales sharply, so I do it again, following up with a proper lick, then suck it into my mouth. The angle is awkward, but the way his thigh muscles go rock-solid against me makes it worth repeating with the right one.
When I let it go, he draws in a shuddering breath. It releases in a rush when I wrap my lips around the head of his cock, and he says something in a language I don’t recognize, the words strangled. I don’t need to understand them to know they’re words of tortured pleasure, and it gives me a little rush of power—and happiness.
I want to pleasure Raðulfr. To make him feel like a king, worshiped by me.
My tongue probes gently around the head of his dick, searching for the spot that finally makes his hands tighten in my hair, and when I find it, I torment it, teasing the little bundle of nerves until his breathing is ragged.
Pulling off, I grin up at him. “Having fun?”
“Your mouth should be illegal,” he pants, and I laugh, then open wide and take as much of him as I can manage into my mouth, winning a yell from him.
I alternate using my tongue and lightly sucking, occasionally drawing back so cool air can sensitize his wet skin, and when his hips make an aborted thrusting motion, I know it’s only rigid self-control that’s stopping his orgasm.
So I relax my throat and take him as deep as I can, then whisper my fingers in a featherlight stroke over his scrotum.
Every muscle in his body locks up, and he comes, his rough cry ringing in my ears like music.
When he finally stumbles back, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and?—
—land on the bed. Stunned, I gape at him as he crawls over me. Who knew he had that kind of strength?
Who knew I’d find it so hot?
“You’re a miracle,” he growls, then plunders my mouth with the kind of kiss I never thought I wanted. I was wrong.
It ends before I’m ready, but my protests dies when Raðulfr slides down my body and sucks my neglected dick into hismouth. I’m so stimulated from teasing him that it takes next to nothing before I’m seeing stars.
And then it’s his turn to worship me.
I swear,I’mbouncingas I enter my classroom the next morning, and my mouth is stretched into the stupidest smile ever—it has been ever since I woke up tangled with Raðulfr. Not even the strange guy on my street who gave me the weirdest look as Raðulfr and I left my place could kill my smile. I offered to give Raðulfr a lift home, but he said he needed a walk to burn off his excess sex energy from this morning’s mutual blowjobs. I get it—I’m so wired right now, and sure, part of that is from the incredible sex, which always gives me a boost, but the rest is giddy, goopy feelings.
If feelings could be converted to electricity, I’d never have to pay another power bill just based on this morning.
I’ve got half an hour to wind down a bit before my students?—
