Page 11 of The Witch & the Hound
Her answer was to arch into me, hands fisting in my hair, pulling me closer.
"Show me."
Chapter 6
Maggie
He carried me upstairs like it was nothing, broad hands locked under my thighs, horns brushing the arch of my stairwell. My arms looped around his neck automatically, clinging as if I might fall, but the truth was I’d never felt steadier.
I tried not to be self-conscious about my body, but I was short and thick, of Irish peasant stock. The kind of woman who could carry a sick calf home if need be. Now that I wasn't in a job that demanded fitness, I was softer for it.
Upstairs, my bedroom door slammed against the wall, and then I was on my knees on the mattress with his shadow pouring over me. His eyes glowed faint amber in the lamplight, not soft at all. Hungry. Wolfish.
My breath hitched. “Bram?”
He growled low, a sound that thrummed through the bedframe, through me. Not threatening, but testing. The kind of sound you made to see if your prey would bolt or stay.
I stayed.
That was all he needed.
His teeth grazed the bare skin of my shoulders in deliberate nips, my breath coming too fast. Each scrape made me shiver, but he soothed after every bite with a velvet drag of his tongue.
The tail inched higher, stroking the inside of my thigh with infuriating patience.
My breath caught when the mattress dipped under his weight behind me.
The room changed, darker, charged. His bare chest pressed along my back, hot and solid, his face buried in my hair. He inhaled deeply, the sound vibrating low in his chest, and I shivered.
“You're perfect, Maggie,” he rumbled, nibbling my neck, his hands full of my breasts, kneading and pinching my needy nipples. His tail slipped up my inner thigh and slipped between, teasing my clit as he nibbled and sucked.
His nose traced down my neck, pausing at the nape. Teeth scraped lightly, then soothed with tongue before continuing lower. Every vertebra got its due—nipped, licked, claimed until he reached the small of my back. He nuzzled there, tail curling around my thigh, stroking in lazy circles.
I gasped, my hips jerking. His palm pressed between my shoulder blades, gentle but firm, pinning me. “Easy. Don’t move unless I tell you.”
Heat pooled low in my belly. “Bram…”
“Shh.” Another nip at my hip, sharper this time, making me cry out. “I said still.”
The warning in his voice made me wetter.
His mouth trailed lower, down the curve of my backside, and then he was between my thighs. My leggings were gone. I couldn’t remember losing them, but now his tongue parted me, slow and thorough, lapping like he was savoring the taste.
My arms buckled. “Oh—oh God.”
He growled against me, tail sliding higher, brushing over my slickness in counterpoint to his tongue. He groaned, deep and satisfied, the sound vibrating through me. His hands spanned my hips, holding me open as his tongue worked me, teasing, tasting, claiming. Every flick sent lightning through my spine. My magic stirred at the edges, sparking like static in the air.
The tail stroked, circled, pressed lightly where I was already pulsing. I nearly sobbed, rocking back against it, but his teeth grazed my thigh in reprimand.
“Patience,” he said roughly, pulling back just enough to breathe across me. “I need you ready. All of you.”
And the way he said it, like preparation was as sacred as the act itself, made me tremble harder than his tongue had.
The mattress dipped as he shifted behind me, his tongue leaving me trembling, raw, and ready. His tail lingered high on my thigh, stroking once, a reminder and a promise.
Then he pressed forward.
He slid against me, hot and slick. I jolted, a whimper breaking free before I could swallow it down. He groaned low, hands braced at my hips, holding me wide for him.
