Page 28 of Kiss of Frost

“Yes,” I moaned, my face as hot as my body. Can’t hide. Not from Callum. He saw every dark, wicked fantasy. He fed on me as I took my pleasure, and that was a fantasy, too, sitting in the lap of a sex demon who knew exactly how to make me come.

“Get wetter for me,” he ordered, stroking me faster. “Let me hear how loud this pussy can get.” His eyes narrowed to burning green slits as he worked me front and back, his finger tunneling deeper into my ass. The invasion was shockingly intimate and so, so good. Why the hell hadn’t anyone ever told me?

Callum’s eyes lit up the room. His voice dipped low as he looked me in the eye and whispered filth that set me on fire. “I should make you do this in front of Graeme. Order you to strip and spread your pretty thighs over my lap so he can watch me finger your ass at mealtimes. Would you like that, witchling? I’ll get you started and then he can finish you. I’ll open you up. Get you nice and loose. Then I’ll send you round the table, your big tits swaying. Make you bend over and spread your pretty backside so he can fuck this tight little hole.”

With a squeal I’d probably be embarrassed about later, I grasped Callum’s shoulders and rocked my hips in a wild rhythm, my breath spilling from me in wanton moans.

“That’s it,” he crooned, “fuck my fingers, Georgie.” He widened his circles on my clit, smearing moisture over my swollen folds and sopping entrance.

“Yes!” I gasped, rocking faster. Writhing and grinding and digging my nails into his shoulders. Sweat beaded my brow as I chased the orgasm that hovered just out of reach.

Callum flattened his palm against my pussy, the heel of his hand against my clit.

“Oh…” I gasped, and then I was coming, my muscles clenching everywhere. All over his fingers. I curled forward and squeezed his shoulders so hard I probably hurt him, but I couldn’t stop. My ass and pussy tightened, and my mind blanked. I could hear my keening wail, but it didn’t matter. Nothing existed except my pleasure and the man who gave it to me. He took me through it, his deep voice rumbling in his soft brogue. His breath teased my hair as he murmured in my ear, telling me how good I was. How perfect. Declaring me his with a possessive growl I’d been dying to hear and was only now aware of it. But Callum knew.

How could he know how much I needed to belong to someone?

The orgasm faded, and I lay boneless and limp against him with my forehead on his shoulder. He pulled his hands from my leggings and held me. After a minute, he turned his head and kissed my temple.

“My gorgeous Georgie. You’ve bewitched me.”

I lifted my head. As reality descended, it hit me that I’d just let Callum finger-fuck me—in two ports of entry—in a desolate castle tower. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

“Aye, we definitely should have.”

“Nay, we really shouldn’t have. I need to get to the Oracle, not”—I groped for the right words as Callum lifted a brow—“take orgasm breaks.”

“Nothing says you can’t do both, lass.” Callum gestured to the window. “The Oracle is just a wee distance away. We’ll get there. I promise.”

Not according to Graeme, we wouldn’t. My heart rate picked up as a fresh wave of anxiety descended.

Callum eyed me. “You worry too much.”

“You don’t worry enough. How can you be so nonchalant about this?”

“You’ll have to be more specific, witchling, considering we’re navigating multiple crises at the moment.”

“That’s exactly my point!” I clambered off his lap and jerked my clothing back into place. With a glance at the door, I lowered my voice. “You’re certainly taking Graeme being our mate in stride.”

Callum leaned his weight on his palms behind him, indolent in his nudity. “Fate has given me two mates in less than forty-eight hours, lass. I’m basically a luck dragon at this point. I might have to change my name to Falkor.”

My breath caught, my irritation with him fading. “You like The Neverending Story?”

“It’s one of my favorite movies. They did Artax dirty, though. I cried my eyes out.”

“Me too.” I stared at him, that sense of knowing settling even deeper. “What about The Princess Bride?”

“Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”

Wonder spread through me. “I guess we have a lot in common.”

He stood and took me in his arms. Tenderness shimmered in his eyes as he stroked my hair away from my face. “I’m not nonchalant, Georgie. I’m fortunate. And I’m willing to fight for the gifts fate has given me.”

I swallowed hard as I gazed up at my own gift—my sexy, silly dragon who never appeared to worry. I’d fallen for him so easily. But Callum was easy to fall for. He seemed so certain about Graeme. What happened if I didn’t feel the same? In the back of my mind, an unhelpful voice alerted me to another possibility—one far more likely than I cared to admit.

What if Graeme fell for Callum but not me?

I thought about asking. Instead, I opened my mouth and asked, “What if Graeme doesn’t like eighties fantasy movies?”

---