Page 55 of Best Hex Ever
“What happened?” she asked.
“It’s nothing, I just burned myself with the kettle this morning by accident.”
“Well, it doesn’t look like nothing. Here, let me…” She placed both hands over the burn and muttered a small spell in Darija. A warm light glowed against Scott’s skin for a moment, and she heard him sigh. When she lifted her hands the burn was healed to a silver scar.
It was just a burn,she told herself. It couldn’t be the hex. Not yet. It was too soon.
“You beautiful witch,” Scott growled, and pulled her onto his lap. Dina’s legs straddled his waist, and she became acutely aware of the fact that she was wearing nothing but a cotton camisole and a pair of knickers.
Scott’s palms trailed down her arms, sending shivers across her back—and lower. Her nipples hardened to points, arousal flaring inside her.
“Howam I supposed to go and get ready when you’re over here looking like this?” he said roughly, his eyes dark. His thumb stroked her nipple over her top and she let out a soft moan.
Scott tugged down her camisole and his lips found her breast, his warm tongue caressing her nipple, before he bit her ever so gently with his teeth. Shockwaves of desire rippled through Dina, her back arching.
He ran his hand over her knickers.
“So wet for me already,” he hissed.
The prospect of getting ready for the wedding felt far away as she pressed herself close to Scott’s chest, feeling the fast thrum of his heart. He was as wild for her as she was for him.
Her fingers teased their way down his chest and the line of dark hair that disappeared into his jogging bottoms.
His cock was already hard, and the feel of it pushing against his trousers, solid and thick, left her panting.
“Dina, let me taste you again,” Scott rumbled, his face buried between her breasts, his fingers tugging at her underwear.
“Yes,” she whispered back. She couldn’t get her knickers off fast enough.
And then, at the worst possible moment, just as Scott’s fingers teased the entrance of her swollen pussy, there were three knocks at the door. A shadow was visible through the small convex window that was set into it, but Dina couldn’t tell who it was.
Scott groaned and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, his fingers reluctantly sliding away from her pussy to rest on her thigh. Oh, she was aching for him.
“Who is it?” Scott called out with gritted teeth.
“It’s Martin. I’ve been sent to, er, deliver a message. From the bride and groom.” For a moment, panic flushed through Dina and she looked over at the clock that hung above the fireplace. But no, it was only seven forty-five—she still had ages to get ready before she needed to go and help Immy with her dress.
“What’s the message?” Dina asked. She was glad that Martin hadn’t asked to be let inside; she didn’t feel like getting off Scott’s lap just yet. From the way his arms grasped her ass cheeks, she was sure he didn’t want that either.
“They wanted me to say, and these were their words exactly: ‘Just a reminder that you can’t spend all day bonking, because you have a wedding to attend.’ ”
Dina barely stifled a laugh.
“Was that it?”
Martin cleared his throat awkwardly. “Yes, that’s all.”
“Well, thanks for checking in, Martin. You can tell the bride and groom not to worry, we’ll save our bonking for later,” Scott said.
“Right. Good.” And then Martin’s shadow was gone, and they heard his shuffling footsteps heading back along the path.
Scott turned back to Dina.
“Who says ‘bonking’?” He exhaled a laugh.
“That would be Immy.”
“Ah, I should have known. It seems like we have our orders.” He stared at her breasts mournfully.
