Page 126 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One

Her arousal was heady and intoxicating. I inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of her. My eyes met hers, and the hunger in her gaze was enough to undo me completely.

She was staring down at me, her lips parted, her chest heaving, and for a moment, I thought she might beg.

But no, Gwenivere wasn’t the begging type.

She demands.

“You’re taking too long,” she said, her voice breathless but laced with impatience.

A grin tugged at the corner of my lips, and I leaned in, trailing my tongue along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

She gasped, her hips jerking at the contact, but her hands found my shoulders, nails biting into my skin as though she could allow me to move faster.

“Patience, my little Solstice,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to the crease of her thigh. “Good things come to those who wait.”

She let out a soft growl of frustration, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

“You’re enjoying this,” she accused, her voice trembling as I trailed kisses higher, my lips brushing just shy of where she wanted them most.

“Immensely,” I admitted, my breath ghosting over her skin. “You have no idea how perfect you look right now. How perfect you taste.”

Her head fell back against the table, a frustrated moan escaping her lips as her hips bucked, seeking relief.

I held her steady, my hands gripping her thighs firmly as I took my time, savoring every reaction, every gasp, every shiver.

Because for once, I didn’t want to rush.

For once, I wanted to take my time, to memorize every sound she made, every way her body responded to me.

This wasn’t just about satisfying the hunger that burned between us.

It was about claiming her in a way no one else ever had.

And I wasn’t about to let a single moment go to waste.

The taste of her was intoxicating.

Sweet and salty, delicate and earthy, all at once. It was as though her essence had been crafted for me alone.

My tongue traced her folds slowly, deliberately, savoring every shiver that ran through her body, every gasp that fell from her lips.

Her hands tangled in my hair, tugging slightly, her nails grazing my scalp as she moaned softly.

The sound sent a pulse of heat through me, and I groaned against her, the vibration making her hips buck in response. She was slick and warm, her body opening to me like a flower in bloom.

Every flick of my tongue drew another whimper from her, and I couldn’t get enough.

I pressed my mouth against her clit, circling it with slow, languid strokes, teasing her, building her up.

The bond mark pulsed between us, its golden light spilling over her skin, illuminating the flush on her cheeks and the tension in her thighs as she strained against the sensations.

“Nikolai,” she breathed, her voice breaking on my name. The sound was both a plea and a command, and I found myself obeying without hesitation.

I worked her slowly at first, alternating between broad strokes of my tongue and focused attention on the swollen bundle of nerves that made her moan the loudest.

Her hips lifted, seeking more, and I slipped my hands beneath her, cupping her ass and holding her steady as I pressed her closer to me.

“You taste divine,” I murmured against her, my voice thick with desire. She whimpered in response, her legs tightening around my shoulders as her fingers fisted in my hair.

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