Page 62 of Of Poison & Pumpkins
“What? I mean, thanks,” he stutters. “So, are you.”
“I mean you’re burning up.” I rub a finger down his forearm, making him shiver. “Do you need me to ask Shannon to turn the air conditioner higher?”
He gulps again as sweat beads on his forehead. “Nah, I’m good. Actually, I think I’m gonna call it a night.” He pauses much longer than usual. “Do you care where I sleep?”
My hopes sink since he still hasn’t looked at me. It doesn’t seem like he’s joking. Apparently tonight isn’t our big moment despite the perfect setting amongst this pillow monstrosity. Is his mood because I didn’t return the sentiment?
Do I love him?
Do I enjoy spending time with him? Yes. Do I want to get to know him better? Of course. Am I glad we reunited? Sure, but that doesn’t define love.
Love is giving away the last strawberry at the bottom of the bin and wanting to stay home to cuddle instead of attending a knitting festival. Love is being terrified of dropping him during a risky climb.
No, I can’t be in love because I still want to crush his shop in the competition. If both he and Tinz needed my help at the same time, I’d pick my best friend instead of Elias. Sure, I want to fuck him until it feels like a dream, but I’m not in love.
“Elias?” I swallow. “You know I care about you too, right?”
He’s already creating a mattress-of-sorts from extra blankets. His forced smile doesn’t light up his eyes. I never want to be the one to extinguish his spark.
“Yeah, I know, Sunflower.” His voice is quiet, weak. “I think the excitement has finally caught up to me. My body shut down about three and a half minutes ago. And I may have pulled a muscle in my back in the rage room.” Wincing, he stretches out and tries to rub it.
“Here, let me.” I crawl towards him, flabbergasted that the floor doesn’t hurt my knees because there’s so much padding from the blankets.
“You don’t have to … Oh, oh, that’s good.” He groans as I slowly massage his back.
“Take this off. The fabric keeps bunching,” I say, pulling at his shirt while shifting into a straddle over his back.
He does, but moves slower than usual. Apparently, he wasn’t joking about straining something. My hands happily run up and down the edges of his spine. Underneath warm, soft skin, he’s pure muscle. I can’t deny how much I want to run my lips down the valleys and curves of his shoulder blades. His soft sounds of approval could motivate me to continue this for hours. Damn, it’s hot hearing a man in pleasure—no, not any man— mine. Feeling brave, I stretch forward and run my hands all the way up his arms.
“Mmm, Rynnlee, that’s amazing. Never stop,” he grumbles into a pillow.
“Well, you’ll owe me, then.”
“Anything. What do you want?”
A dozen ideas springing to mind. Only one of them remains front and center. The raw need to see and feel him fully sends tingles up my own spine.
“I want to feel all of you.”
A heavy, layered sigh puffs from his mouth and he slowly turns over onto his back so that I’m straddling his very hard, very large erection. His pained face shows me his answer before he speaks.
“Rynnlee, don’t look at me like that. Because when I’m inside of you for the first time, we won’t be on a floor. You deserve better. And when I slide into you, it’ll only be after you beg me, after I’m certain you can’t last another moment without me.”
I roll in my lips, unable to form a coherent thought. That might’ve been the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.
I lay both hands on his chest softly and position my face above his. It’s the first time I’ve noticed the golden specs in his eyes. “That’s good to know. But I only want to touch your ding-a-ling.”
The soft chuckle that rumbles out of his chest is complete proof of how exhausted this man is. He can’t even get out a full laugh.
“My ding-a-ling is yours for the touching tonight. But that’s it, understand?”
I nod and grab one of the millions of sheets, then wrap it tightly around his wrists. A little devious flicker flashes in his gaze, but then his eyes drop heavily into slits.
My chest is tight with anticipation, heart pumping, nerves firing. Not wasting another moment, I undo his belt as my pulse skyrockets. Yank his pants down. Pull out his cock and simply absorb what I’m seeing. It’s a good thing he’s tired, because this piece of art needs a warning label manufactured before it enters me in any way, shape, or position.
I take him in both hands and gasp at his girth. Holy shit. I stroke him slowly, memorizing his lovely twitches, soft grunts, and the way his wrists strain against the bind. The way his veins bulge in his forearms is so sexy.
“You’re magic,” he whispers, eyes clenching shut. “Ooh, flying witches, Rynnlee!”
