Page 115 of Her Dreadful Will
“Is that so?” She clasped his knee and slid her fingers slowly up his thigh, to the edge of his boxers, then inward, grazing the outline of his erection. Achan’s eyes widened, lips parting as his chest rose and fell a little faster.
Through the thin material, her nails traced the head of his penis, pausing over the tiny indentation at the tip until his entire shaft flexed compulsively and a few drops melted through the soft material, dampening the pad of her finger.
She smiled savagely. “For all your talk, you’re about as ‘straight white male’ as it gets.”
“You shouldn’t do that,” he muttered. “I don’t trust you when you’re this angry.”
“Afraid I’ll cause a littlechaosto your favorite part of yourself?”
“Afraid—excited—take your pick.” His shoulders and arms were rigid, his lean stomach flexing with each rapid breath. “I haven’t thanked you yet,” he said tightly. “For saving me. It couldn’t have been easy to do it alone.”
“It was more awkward than difficult.” She was drifting toward him in spite of herself, her irritation diffusing to foam in the sea of his green eyes. “If it hadn’t worked, I… Achan, I...”
He made a desperate sound and lunged for her, crushing her mouth with an urgent kiss. Soleil released a little half-sob, pressing all the things she couldn’t say into the pliable softness of his lips. As her tongue invaded his mouth she tasted sore places, bitten and bloody, the aftermath of his cruel chaos and the beautiful restoration that had followed.
Achan grasped her, cradled her body desperately, ruined her hair with his hands. With a hungry whimper in the back of her throat, Soleil explored him—swept her hands along the lines of his shoulder blades, across the curves of his pecs, down the shallow groove between his abs. All of him, from the dark wild mess of his hair to his long skinny feet—it all belonged to her now, and she claimed it with fierce caresses.
A puff of wind swept her hair aside to make way for Achan’s lips. Then a tendril of focused air slithered down the skin of her belly and brushed across her panties. Soleil jerked at the stimulation, and Achan released a breathless chuckle.
He hooked a finger into the strap of her bra. “Can I take this off?”
“Get rid of it,” she hissed, and it disintegrated, along with her underwear and his. Achan pulled her between his legs, angled so that her shoulder pressed to his chest. One arm encircled her, while his other palm skated over her breasts. When he squeezed lightly, Soleil let out an embarrassing whine of blended relief and craving.
She looked away, biting her lip, but he whispered harshly, “Never restrain your primal chaos. Let me hear it all.”
She nodded, letting herself relax, allowing her gaze drift between his legs, to the swirl of dark hair and the thick, rigid length of his penis. Such a vulnerable, prosaic human part for such a powerful man.
Achan shifted the arm he’d wrapped around her waist, sliding his hand down her stomach. His central finger, the one tattooed with the rain tree, rippled over the eager nub between her legs, slipping into her sex. He stretched his hand, spreading her folds wider, while that central finger sent a tingling burst of magic through every trembling, sensitized bit of her flesh.
A fragile squeal escaped Soleil’s lips, and Achan kissed her, stealing the sound, burying her in the liquid heat of his tongue.
Eyes closed, blindly thrilling through the kiss, Soleil reached for his cock and laced her fingers around it. He barked a broken gasp into her mouth, going entirely still as she slid her hand up and down, up and down.
For a few seconds Achan was paralyzed, caught up in his own pleasure; but then he swirled his fingers between her legs again, drawing the wetness from her slit over her delicate folds until she was vibrating, shaking with need. He circled her soaked clit, and then he began to tap it gently with the pad of his index finger, rapidly, over and over, until her moans feathered into tiny shrill, hitching gasps.
But she didn’t want to reach the peak yet. She needed to know if it was true, if the magic between witches could be unique and restorative. And she had a secret, primal need for him to come inside her.
Desperate, she swung herself across his lap, knees braced in the grass, the tip of his penis nudging hot and insistent against her quivering center.
“Condom,” he gasped.
“I’m protected,” she whispered. “And I trust you.”
The head of his cock twitched at the last three words. He set his mouth to her ear. “This is only the first time. Later, I’m going to do so many things to you that I could never do to anyone else. But right now, it’s as simple as you and me.”
Soleil shivered and nodded.
With one hand poised to guide him in, she sank down, and he slipped inside her easily, plunging deep. The thick, solid heat of him swelled her channel, filling her wholly, stretching her perfectly.
Yes.Everything inside her—blood, bone, flesh, and will—it all criedyes, groaned and shriekedyesbecause this was coming home.
One of his hands plunged into her hair, cupping the back of her head, and he kissed her, heavy and languid.
Soleil surged up and sank down, moaning at the rush of sensation.
As she sheathed him again, she felt magic activating inside her, and an answering pulse emanating from him.
“Soleil,” he gasped.
