Page 70 of Hooked on a Witch
Her legs wobbled, and she almost went over with no anchor to buffer her from the intense sensations, but he caught her and fell back onto the barstool. He pulled her to straddle his lap. His hands snaked beneath the T-shirt to rest against the small of her back then down to cup both cheeks of her ass.
“Christ, Shannon,” he groaned, leaning his forehead against her shoulder. His hands massaged and soothed.
“Please,” she begged as she ground her pelvis into him, rasping all sensitive zones against his jeans while his hands continued their squeezing torment.
“Hasty little thing, aren’t you? I’ve got to teach you to slow down.” His fingers teased her, invaded her.
“Slow down later.” She wiggled and pressed down against them, seeking and needing. She didn’t want to savor. Not right now.
He showed her no mercy, allowing her to angle backward a bit so he could use his fingers deeper. She rocked her hips against him until she flew apart. “Merck…”
His mouth caught her cry as she shattered.
“Now that was fucking beautiful,” he muttered.
She buried her face in his neck, not sure if she was embarrassed or overwhelmed. She rolled her head outward to rest it against his chest. Absently, she traced the tattoos streaking down his arms to his hands and over his shoulders like barbed wire with foreign-looking script. “What do these mean?”
“I wish I knew. Every time I kill a deviant magical, a new one appears.”
“There are hundreds.”
“I’ve been busy. Never forget I’m not a good person. I’ve done a lot of things.” Softly, he added, “I’ve killed a lot.”
She leaned away to cradle his head between her hands. “Don’t say things like that. These people you killed probably murdered more than a lot before you stopped them. They would’ve killed more. You could die every time you go after one of them. Do the marks hurt?”
She traced a few of the inked lines and rested her head on his chest again, next to his heat, with the thump-thump of his heart against her ear.
“Not really.”
“I want a better look at them. How about the bathtub?”
He grinned, lifted her, and carried her to the bathroom. He set her down on the edge of the tub and turned it on.
She could almost feel the electricity arcing between them. A glance up at his seductive mouth, now thinned into concentration on the water tumbling into the tub, and she could almost taste him. His gaze drifted possessively over her face.
Waiting for a full bathtub would take far too long when all she wanted was her lips on his again. She stood and found his mouth with hers, her tongue plunging deep and stroking along his, not giving him time to think. She loved the shape of his lips, their softness and strength. She tugged his jeans down until they pooled around his feet. He yanked the T-shirt over her head and skimmed his hands down her breasts. Then he leaned forward to replace his hands with his mouth. He bit gently on her nipple, and heat flared straight to her legs. A choking cry broke from her, her body shuddering for him all over again.
He backed her up against the wall, pinning her wrists and drawing them over her head while his mouth continued to ravage her. Fingers teased between her thighs. “Darlin’, you’re so wet for me. I wish I could wait until we’re in the tub.”
She couldn’t talk. Couldn’t even plead. She was blind with want for everything the low rasp of his declaration suggested might come next.
“Wrap your legs around me.” His voice was hoarse in her ear. He dropped her wrists to support and lift her body. Her legs automatically locked around him. When he was poised to enter her, he paused as if waiting. Was she supposed to beg?
He leaned in and kissed her cheek and then the bridge of her nose. “You make me feel things I never have before.”
He dropped her body over his, linking them together. She heard her own shattered cry as he filled her and drove into her ultrasensitive body. The friction, hot and tight, dragged fire over her body.
The possessive glitter in his gaze, which swirled a myriad of blue colors as he continued a relentless rhythm, mesmerized her. Harsh desire etched into every line of his face. Her mind stilled. Everything in her quieted. That wasn’t just desire or possession in his expression and in his aura. That was love. This man might own her body and had wiggled his way into her heart, maybe even her soul, but she owned him right back. He might not even know it. He probably wouldn’t admit it.
It was too fast for love. It was lust. Had to be. Didn’t love take time?
He shifted, slamming against a zone of nerves, and once again she was lost to the intensity of what he created within her. He thrust hard until she shattered. Moments later, with a cry, he came apart. His heart thundered against her chest as he panted. He gently lowered her and they collapsed against each other, held up only by the wall.
“Give me a second and I’ll carry you to the tub,” he whispered.
“That’s romantic, but it’s only three steps away. I can make it.” She waved behind him.
“If you can still walk, then we’re not done tonight. Not even close.” A wicked grin spread across his face.
Oh yeah. Totally on board with everything the grin promised.
