Page 58 of Wooing the Wiccan
My nod is automatic, and as he stands and his hands drop to his belt, a frisson of excitement races through me. It’s a little surprising, considering I don’t know what he’s about to reveal.
His zipper goes down slower than I’d like, and then his pants and briefs drop to the floor. I barely notice as he kicks them aside, my attention fixed on his cock. It twitches under mygaze, then begins to harden, making the differences between our anatomy even more obvious.
Ridges. There areridgesrunning up the length of his dick, like rippling waves or perfectly even sand dunes or the corrugated cardboard sometimes used for art projects. They’re visible even from two feet away, and I lift my hand toward him, stopping only briefly to glance up at Raðulfr’s face for permission. There’s a faint smile on his face that encourages me to continue, and I wrap my fingers around him.
Yep. Definitely ridges. They’re firm under my grip, just the way he would be without them. I slide my hand up and down, wanting to see if they move at all, and Raðulfr’s breath catches. The ridges stay solidly in place.
They would feel incredible inside me.
I swallow hard. I’ve used anal beads before and always loved the sensation. This would be even better—thick, warm flesh attached to the man I… well, it’s pretty evident that I love him. I’d hardly be going through all this if I didn’t.
“I love you.”
An incredulous laugh escapes him. “Are you talking to me or my?—”
“You! Goddess, I’m sorry. This must seem so weird, me saying that while I’m—” I let go of his cock hurriedly and stand up. He makes a disappointed noise, but this needs to be said without me groping him. “I swear it wasn’t your dick that made me say it. Not exactly, anyway. I was thinking how it would feel better than anal beads”—my face is getting hotter with every word—“because it’s attached to you, and I love you. Then I realized I’ve never said that to you, and it just… came out of my mouth.” I wince. “I’m usually better at picking appropriate times and situations to make announcements. It’s just been a confusing month.”
“Every time and situation is appropriate if you’re telling me you love me.” He takes both my hands in his and lifts them to his mouth, kissing them one at a time. “I love you, too. I wanted to tell you before, but it already felt so dishonest to be sleeping with you without telling you everything.” A shadow crosses his face. “I wish?—”
“Stop. We’ve put that behind us, remember? I love you. You love me. I know all the big things now, and we’re going to be happy together.” Giddiness has taken over my whole body. We’re in love!
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Raðulfr
HearingJared say he loves me and that we have a happy future ahead of us is all my heart needs. I crash my mouth down on his and revel in the taste and feel of him, finally in my arms again.
Minutes—hours—eons might be passing, but all I care about is his lips against mine, his breath brushing my skin, his hands on my body and mine on?—
His clothes.
Breaking the kiss but not pulling away, I murmur, “Take them off.”
“Mmm. That would mean letting you go,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to each corner of my mouth. “Don’t stop kissing me.”
That’s an invitation I’m happy to accept, though I do whine a little when his arms disappear from around me—until one of his hands brushes against my stomach.
What’s he?—
The sound of jeans hitting the floor clues me in, and my chuckle is muffled by our kiss. He pulls back just enough to look me in the eye, a mischievous glint in his. “Are you laughing at my ingenuity?”
“I love your ingenuity,” I promise. “Does this mean we’re not taking our shirts off?”
“Not this time. Physical contact must be maintained until we’ve both come our brains out. It’s the law of make-up sex.”
I’d laugh again, but I hate that there’s a need for make-up sex.
“Hey,” he says, kissing the hinge of my jaw. “No sad face. Occasional make-up sex is part of healthy relationships. Next time it happens, we’ll make sure we’re both naked before we start.”
This time I do laugh. “I love you. So much.”
His smile warms me from the inside out. “Same. I love every inch of you.” The smile turns wry. “I didn’t intend for that to be a penis joke.”
“Too late,” I tease. “Come on, then… what are you going to do with all the inches you love?”
In response, he puts his hands on my chest and pushes lightly, following me back down onto the couch. “Why, Your Majesty”—a jolt runs through me. I never thought that honorific could be sexy—“I’m going to ride them.”
He straddles me, trapping both our cocks between us as he leans down to kiss me some more. “We might need to move. Do you have lube?”
