Page 43 of Mistake of Magic
My heart speeds in spite of itself, my body aching for more, even while my mind still grips the stoicism I thought I was doing a good job of portraying. The safety of Tye’s broad shoulders and corded arms wraps around me, his heat and scent drowning out the world with no effort at all. For once, after hours of holding myself in check, I want to give in, let go. Tye, with his quick hands and quicker smile, is the easiest male to sink into and forget that anything else exists. My hands reach for him without my permission, my palms resting on the hard edges of his pectorals. Tye’s heartbeat, vibrating through layers of trained, hardened muscle, is a softlub, lub, lubagainst my touch.
Tye’s hands slip from my face down to my hips, the calloused skin scraping wonderfully along my body. Gripping my waist, he lifts me easily into the air and sets me atop my high bed. “You know,” he says, kneeling on the mattress and straddling my thighs as my hands stretch back to brace myself, “many consider combat to be a strong aphrodisiac.”
My pulse pounds. “I’m not one of them,” I say, even as my nipples peak and moisture pools between my legs, my body’s own arousal betraying me. My raspy voice makes me cringe. Stars. It’s wrong how badly my body wants Tye’s lips, Tye’s body, the pleasures that the male knows so well how to offer. All the things that I deserve none of. “Stop,” I whisper, wanting him to do anything but.
Tye raises a brow, two fingers touching the underside of my chin. His nostrils flare delicately, tasting my scent. “Tell me why.”
I can’t.
He tips his head, his red hair swinging. “Do you deserve punishment instead of a reward?” His mouth pulls into a feral grin, his canines glistening in the setting sun. “I think something can be arranged.”
“That’s not what I said, Tye.” I gasp as the male takes hold of my hips and moves me further onto the four-poster bed, all while turning my chest wrap and undershorts into little more than shredded and discarded rags. Cool air tickles my exposed skin. I press my legs together, only to discover Tye’s knee perfectly blocking my way.
I reach between his legs, suddenly desperate to wrap my fingers around him, to make him feel what I’m feeling. He grips my wrist, something flickering in his eyes. I move my other hand and he stops it just as quickly, holding my wrists at my sides.
I frown. “Tye—”
“Uh-uh, lass. Not today.” His voice is a rod of steel covered in thick velvet, his eyes unreadable. Leaning low, his lips trace a line from my navel to my sternum to my neck. “Punishment,” he whispers, his hands brushing along my arms, extending them over my head. “You don’t get to move.”
Moisture slicks my thighs and slithers down to the coverlet beneath.
Tye’s nostrils puff and he smiles approvingly, making my skin heat. Snatching the remains of my chest wrap, he wraps the cloth deftly around my wrists, attaching the end to a bedpost and making my eyes widen.
“You aren’t Coal, lass,” he whispers into my ear. “You are Lera. And you are entitled to your own sensations. Your own memories.” His eyes on me, warm moss in the golden light, he shifts his mouth to cover my nipple, biting it just hard enough to send a glorious sting through my breast. I gasp softly and he moves to the other nipple. “Stay still,” he says. Watching my face, he bites again, harder this time.
My body tightens inexplicably, the spark of pain nothing compared to the sudden gripping need that takes my sex. I moan softly before I can help it.
“Good lass.” Tye’s tongue replaces his teeth, leisurely circling around the sore spot before lapping at it gently, sending a streak of fire through my core. He sits up on his knees, his wide palms brushing my naked flesh in long, luxurious strokes that move closer and closer to my core with each pass. He slows as he reaches my inner thighs, nodding approvingly at the wetness as he presses my thighs further apart still, exposing my increasingly throbbing sex to his mercy.
“Now that I have your full attention,” Tye says softly, stroking his thumb once through my slit and casually flicking his nail against the bud in a way that makes my buttocks quiver, “let us discuss the virtues of pretending to feel nothing because someone tells you to.”
I open my mouth to reply, but Tye’s fingers trace a predatory circle around my opening and I whimper instead, pulling against the cloth.
“Get ready to not feel, Lilac Girl.”
I close my eyes as his head descends between my legs, his breath ruffling my coiled auburn locks, the thin stream of air turning hot enough to awaken each of my nerves. Having thoroughly ruffled the hair, the stream creeps closer to my slit, the promise of heat on moist, tender flesh making my heart pound. “You... are using... magic,” I manage to say. “That’s not fair.”
“I’m a thief,” Tye says, his all-but-steaming breath prickling the inside of my sex, stoking my desire. “I don’t do fair.”
No. Clearly not.
The next touch of Tye’s magic has me writhing, the flame inside my sex spreading through my body in growing desperation. I bite my lips, my hands curling around the coverlet. Just as I think my mastery over myself is assured, however, Tye’s tongue begins to lap at me, a tiger playing with his meal. I arch toward him, my apex begging for attention.
Tye grips my thighs, my bucking, squirming hips no match for his strong arms. A sharp, delicious prickle of pain spreads from just inside my sex, sending my fingernails into my palms. “What was that?”
His head rises, his tongue sliding over his canines. “I warned you not to move,” he says, the wicked twinkle in his eyes as bright as the sun. “Now, quiet. I’m busy.”
The lapping returns, interrupted by occasional long strokes of his tongue and gentle scrapes of his teeth that make me buck like a wild horse. When I return to soft whimpering after another of those maneuvers, I realize a low rumbling sound has filled the air, coming not from Tye’s mouth but—
“Are you purring?” I ask.
Tye flushes, spreading my sex with renewed vigor as he finally stokes my apex. My question is forgotten as a shudder rakes my body.
I feel as though I’m on a cliff’s edge, one hairbreadth away from falling into an oblivion of agony and bliss.
“How is thatnotfeeling treating you, lass?” Tye says, having mercy a moment later by plunging his finger into my opening and freeing my release with the force of an arrow.
I fall over the cliff, the binds on my arms burning to ash beneath Tye’s magic, my body screaming with exhausted pleasure. When I collapse, I’m in Tye’s arms, which have somehow moved to cradle me in his lap.
