Page 48 of Once Upon a Curse for True Love
Donatello Malatesta was not a wizard who needed to be told twice.His mouth claimed hers, hot and demanding, his hands sliding up to cradle her face with surprising gentleness.His skin was still cold from doing the dishes, the contrast delicious over her heated cheeks—same as the damning contradiction that lived in his forceful kiss and tender touch.
Andromeda wound her arms around his neck, fingers threading through his ridiculous lilac hair as she pulled him closer.He tasted like wine and spices.
His hands moved to her waist, lifting her effortlessly onto the counter.Her pencil skirt was too tight to allow much movement, but Donatello—his mouth never leaving hers—efficiently hiked it up her tights until she was free to wrap her legs around him, drawing him between her thighs as the kiss deepened, turning from exploration to something more urgent and primal.
As their lower bodies came in contact, she shamelessly moaned into his mouth.Donatello broke the kiss, smiling down at her in a way that was both sweet and somewhat feral.“You’re right, Swan.I can tell the difference now.”
He moved on to mercilessly kissing every exposed inch of her neck, sucking her earlobe, and forcing more incoherent moans out of her.
And then his mouth was on hers again, hard and insistent, as if he wanted to consume her completely.Her pulse thundered in her ears as one of his hands reached behind her and pulled her hair loose while the other slipped beneath her sweater, trailing fire along her bare skin.She arched into him, her body desperate for more contact, more of him.His thumb grazed the edge of her bra, hot and unbearable, and her head fell back, hitting the cabinets as she gasped for air.
Donatello pressed his advantage.He kissed down the column of her throat before his lips found their way back to her mouth.
Andromeda’s thoughts scattered, leaving only the blinding sensation of his mouth moving against hers.Any flicker of self-control she had left was devoured by the sheer intensity of the kiss and his fingers hooking the back of her knees to draw her closer.
She whimpered as his tongue parted her mouth, dizzy from his taste, from the rush of it all.The sound goaded him on.His hands gripped her thighs, while she clutched his shoulders, desperate to keep herself grounded as wave after wave of raw desire crashed over her.
Her senses blurred.He was everywhere—under her skin, in her soul—with bruising kisses that made her blood boil in her veins.She was about to lose her mind when he took a small step back.Her eyes snapped open, meeting the wild look in his.
He stilled then, his entire body going rigid, vibrating with the effort of holding back.“How much bad cop do you want me to get, Swan?”
She held his gaze, biting her swollen lower lip.“All the way bad.”
Chapter Nineteen
Screwed
DONATELLO
“All the way bad,” she whispered, and that was it.Game over.
He surged forward, kissing her again like she was air after a year underwater.Andromeda clutched at his clothes, dragging him closer, and he gladly went, bracketed between her legs, lost in the taste of her.
In the back of his mind, a tiny voice—the sensible part that occasionally showed up late to meetings—muttered something about pacing, about not ruining a good thing by rushing it.
He body-checked that voice straight into a metaphorical locker.
Andromeda Swan wasn’t a witch you kept waiting.
Her nails scratched lightly at his nape, just shy of his hairline, and he shuddered.She was rewiring his brain with every slow drag of her fingers.He broke the kiss only long enough to pull her sweater up, pausing when it bunched under her arms.
“One last chance to back out,” he offered, breath hot against her ear.
She tugged at his hair.“You want me to redecorate your house with glitter spells?”
“I like my house the way it is—un-cursed and with you inside it,” he muttered, grinning as he peeled the sweater off her and tossed it behind her.
She was wearing a plain black bra.Nothing meant to seduce.She wasn’t trying to wreck him—and yet, he was already ruined.
“You’re staring,” she teased, twirling a lock of his lilac hair around her slender finger.A good metaphor for where he stood now.
“Can you blame me?”His hands found her waist again.
“You gonna talk about it all night or touch me?”
Gargoyles, he loved her mouth.Especially when it said reckless things like that.
Challenge accepted.
