Page 31 of Wrongfully Magicked
I do my best to hold still, encouraging her to take more, and she doesn’t disappoint. This time, she kisses me, her mouth turning aggressive. She clings to my shirt, digging her little nails into my chest, and I fucking love every second of it.
The burn of her flames fades at her touch, and I settle my hands on her hips. When I lift her, she automatically wraps her legs around my waist, and I thrust against her pussy, cursing when my jeans prevent me from sliding home. My beast inhales the scent of her lust, and I thrust again, loving the way she rides me, the little whimper in the back of her throat driving me wild.
I lift her higher, ignoring her mewl of protest, and skim my hand down her ass. When I encounter her panties, I don’t even hesitate—I incinerate the fuckers. A second later, my fingers are hovering at the entrance of her soaking core, and I thrust deep. She bucks against my questing fingers, moaning low, then shifts until she is fucking herself on my hand.
I adjust my fingers against her slick folds until my fingertips brush her clit. A shudder goes through her, and her breathing hitches. She breaks the kiss, her head tilting back, and she closes her eyes as she takes her pleasure. When she orgasms, her pussy clenches around my fingers, milking me as if it were my cock. My beast growls, loving the idea, and the vibrations hit her clit in a way that sets off a second orgasm even before the first one is done.
She clamps down on my fingers hard, her heat soaking my hand, and she screams my name. Satisfaction fills my chest at being able to give her pleasure. She burns so beautifully at my touch that I want to do it again and again, and I barely resist the impulse to demand more.
To demand everything.
Instead, I force my movements to slow, carefully easing her body down from her orgasms with gentle, leisurely strokes. Now is not the time or place. When I fuck her, I want to spend hours teaching her body how to react so it will only take the slightest brush of my fingers to make her come.
She slumps against me like a content kitten, and I reluctantly remove my hand from her pussy. Not ready to let her go, I lean down and brush my face against the top of her head, wanting to bathe in her scent.
A few minutes later, she stirs then stiffens when she realizes she’s still in my arms. She pulls away, wiggling to be set down, looking anywhere but at me. I concede reluctantly, my arms feeling empty without her slight weight.
As soon as her feet touch the ground, she bolts across the room. Worried she’ll run, I plant myself in front of the door, then lean against it for good measure. It’s the only exit. If she wants to leave, then she’ll have to go through me, and I’m not budging.
I cross my arms as I watch her pace, her feet practically stomping with every step. She threads her fingers into her hair, scraping the strands away from her face, and my eyes trace her delicate features. Her shirt is singed in spots, the holes playing peekaboo with her tan flesh, and I lick my lips when I catch flashes of her ripe nipples. When she turns, the shirt flutters, and I see the tears in the shirt where my claws sliced through the material, exposing the luscious globes of her ass.
It’s not nearly enough and gone much too quickly for my liking.
How am I supposed to memorize her every curve when she only gives me teasing glimpses? No, next time, I want to spread her out on my bed, her body stripped naked so I can take my time and study every detail.
It will only take a day, maybe two for me to look my fill, then I’ll do it all over again with my eyes closed, allowing my hands to learn her every curve.
It could take weeks, maybe even months, until I’m satisfied that I know every inch of her.
I tilt my head to the side as she strides across the floor, memorizing the beat of her heart and the way her breasts move as she breathes. Her sweet and spicy scent is already imprinted on my brain, and my beast loves watching the way she stalks back and forth in the small space like a predator locked in a cage.
I’m a patient man, allowing her to work out her frustrations. Bringing my hand to my mouth, I slowly lick the taste of her from my fingers, biting back a groan at the irresistible, cock hardening flavor. It takes all my willpower to resist the urge to stalk her, throw her onto the bed, and taste her properly.
My mouth fucking waters, and I press my back against the door to stop myself from giving in to my impulses. The last thing I want to do is frighten her off.
My kitten is skittish right now, and if I’m not careful, she’ll run.
I don’t think she’s ready for me to give chase.
At least not yet.
That’s a game I’ll teach her to play once she becomes addicted to my touch, and my beast growls in agreement.
Her stride hitches at the sound, her lust perfuming the air, and I love that I have that power over her. She whirls toward me, her movements jerky with her agitation. Anita takes a single step in my direction, then stops just out of touching distance. My feet twitch with the need to go to her, my skin aching to feel her touch, even a casual brush of her fingertips or the warmth of her flames.
Her breathing is ragged as she scans me, starting at my feet and slowly working her way up as she inspects every inch of me.When her eyes linger on my cock, I bite back a snarl when the fucker swells even more, desperate to sink into her heat.
Down, boy.
When she sees me casually licking the last of her essence from my fingers, a wicked blush fills her cheeks, and her eyes reluctantly meet mine.
Finally.
I push away from the door, grabbing her chin when she would have dropped her gaze. When she tries to jerk away, I slip my hand to the back of her neck and hold her in place. I won’t let her hide from me. I brush my thumb along her jaw, loving the way she unconsciously leans into the touch.
I can tell the instant her eyes lock on the marks on my arms.
The marks she burned into my flesh.
