Page 33 of The Royal Street Witch
Help me to forget, forget this feeling. I call upon my ancestors, the witches before that had to sacrifice so much more than giving up a guy they liked. They sacrificed their lives, their loves, some, their own children.I can get through this, sisters—help me through this.
But as I plead, a hand slides down my chest, and my pleading fingers jump to cover his.
How quickly I gave up on my plight. How am I going to do this?
I let my head fall against his hip as he purrs behind me, that smell. That goddamn smell.
“You came back.”
“I’m sorry about that,” his says, sliding into the chair in front of me. “I wasn’t prepared, let’s say.” He searches me, and I see his eyes for the first time since last night and I realize I missed them. He leans forward, taking my face in his hand, his thumb brushing my bottom lip. “What was that? All the stuff flying around your room? Did you do that?”
“No, not on purpose at least. That was our energy.”
His green eyes pierce mine. “Our energy?”
“I’m a magical being. Strange things happen when my energy mixes with other supernatural forces.”
“That’s usual for you?” His dark hair is disheveled in a way I’ve never seen before, in an intimate way that only lovers see.
“No,” I admit. “That’s never happened before.”
“That’s what I thought.” He tilts my neck, licking his lips. “We are a force, you and I. I’ve never experienced anything like that in my life.” He closes in on me, his wet lips brushing mine, the softest kiss that comes across as an invitation.
“The sun will be up soon,” I whisper, and he slides back in his chair, his eyebrow lifting.
He pulls something out of his pocket and dangles the vial of potion in front of me.
“You sure about that?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer, just opens the vial and downs the potion.
“I want to see the sunrise and I want to see it with you.” And when I say nothing, when I look away, he asks me, “Are you upset?”
I stand and walk to the terrace, my back to him and eyes toward where the sun will be rising in minutes. “Nope.” I swallow, and then his hand pulls across my waist and his firm chest presses hard against my back.
“You’re like a strike of lightning. Like an electrical storm,” he whispers in my ear and when I allow seconds and seconds to pass, he slides his hand down my hip, wrapping it around the waistband of my robe.
“Did you find someone to quench your thirst?” His fangs run along my chin. He can never bite me and that’s the ultimate pleasure for vampires, and why is that bothering me so much right now? I straighten, pushing his arm off me, turning to look up at him. Frustration creases his forehead, angering his beautiful face.
“So now you’re the jealous one?”
“I’m not, just don’t like when men have to jump out of my bed once they’re done with me.”
“I told you, I wasn’t prepared. I am now.” And he grips my waist.
“It was only supposed to be just a taste.” I turn back around, but his arms are drawn out along the terrace, caging me, and I’m glad I can’t see his face. His chest is pressed against my back, his erection against my ass, and I try not to grind against it.
His lips lower to my ear, his breath, warm and wet, setting a blaze on my skin as he whispers, “I’m gonna need more than that, I do apologize. But you see, I don’t think a taste will satisfy me. And you?”
I’m silent when his fingers slide up my stomach, through the space between my breasts, until they wrap around my neck, my head tilting back against his shoulder. His index finger pulls my bottom lip as it drags to my chin, and his other fingers gently squeeze my neck. My breath hitches and then his wet finger drags down my neck in the most slow and taunting trail. He pauses at my chest bone, and I’m so tense, coiled like a spring that wants to break loose.
“Hmm?” he asks as if I could actually reply right now. I can’t string a sentence.
And then his hand travels to my breast, massaging it, holding it, and I can’t even move and I don’t want to.
Fingers travel inside me, and I’m wet and wanting—and a satisfied sound trills from his throat. It’s hard to breathe, hard to think, with him pressed against me like this. I want more, I want him, and just as I suspected, I wasn’t going to be able to stop.
His other hand pulls the back of my robe to the side then strokes my ass and he whispers, “Tell me you want more too. Just tell me.”
I swallow as he rubs himself on my ass, ridiculously slow and electrifying, and my entire body feels raw and sensitive. And his touch is more than I thought it would ever be. The tenderness, the control, the soft and sensuous strokes.
