Page 40 of The Witch & the Hound
I moaned, clutching his shoulders. He was so strong, socontrolled, but I could feel it in him now, the restraint slipping. The tension coiled under his skin, just waiting for permission.
“You can touch me,” I said, gasping as he ground against me again. “Don’t hold back.”
That was all it took.
He surged forward, kissing me like he meant to devour me. His hands slipped under my shirt, dragging it up my sides in one slow pass, fingertips cool against my heated skin. I lifted my arms and let him pull it over my head, then tossed it aside.
Bram’s eyes dropped to my chest, and he exhaled hard, like he hadn’t seen me bare before. Like hestillcouldn’t believe it was real.
“Beautiful,” he said, voice gone hoarse.
He leaned in and kissed the hollow of my throat, then lower, tongue flicking warm against my skin as he traced a path alongthe swell of my breast. I leaned back to look, and his pupils dilated.
“I’ve dreamed about this,” he murmured. “You. Like this. In my lap, warm and soft and looking at me like youwantme.”
“Idowant you,” I said, pulling his shirt up and over his head. “Now shut up and kiss me again.”
He did, with heat and hunger and purpose.
I rolled my hips again and was rewarded with a growl low in his throat, his hands tightening just enough to make me gasp. He kissed down the curve of my neck, his tongue teasing the shell of my ear before he whispered, “You’re not wearing anything under these yoga pants, are you?”
“Nope.”
A beat.
“Gods help me,” he muttered, and slipped his hand into the back of my pants, over the swell of my ass and between my thighs. He pushed me forward against his body as he slipped a long, cool finger inside me.
I gasped and ground my clit against the hard ridge of him as he thrust one and then two fingers inside me.
I was going to come for him already. His warm breath was on my neck, the scrape of his sharp teeth. The relentless rhythm of his fingers inside me, the friction of his hard length rubbing against my clit was all too much.
I buried my fingers in his hair and screamed his name, announcing my orgasm to my sweet old neighbor Mrs. Kline and her poodles.
Chapter 15
Maggie
I woke to sunlight streaming through my bedroom window and the smell of coffee.
For a confused moment, I couldn't place why that was strange. Then I remembered: I lived alone. I always made my own coffee.
Except I wasn't alone this morning.
Bram.
I sat up, noting the empty space beside me, the rumpled sheets, the faint indentation in the pillow where his horns had rested.
Downstairs, I heard movement. The clink of mugs. The hiss of my coffee maker.
I grabbed a sweatshirt, ran my fingers through my disaster curls, and padded downstairs.
Bram stood in my kitchen, in his boxer briefs, tail swishing gently as he poured coffee into two mugs. He'd found the good ones, the handmade ceramic I usually saved for special occasions.
"You're awake," he said, turning when he heard my footsteps.
"You made coffee."
"Cream and sugar?"
