Page 37 of Wrongfully Magicked
One time.
Two.
Fuck it, yes, I’m dry humping her like a fucking horny lycan in heat, but just touching her sets off fireworks in my blood. Her heat penetrates my skin, luring me closer, and I can’t get enough of her.
I wait for her to scream and struggle to get away.
The last thing I expect is for her to moan and arch back against me, as if begging for more of my touch. I lean in closer, tucking my face against the back of her neck, and drag my fangs over her delicate nape. I inhale her lusty perfume, both sweet and spicy, and my mouth waters with the need to taste her.
She’s warmer than any desert sun, and I’m desperate to get closer, wanting to drape her over me and bask in her heat. My control is holding on by a thread, and when I lean forward to whisper in her ear, my voice is husky. “If you keep moving, then you’re going to find yourself stripped and pinned to the wall in a totally different way—one that I will thoroughly enjoy.”
Her lips purse, and she turns her head, indecision on her face.
Like she’s fucking thinking about my offer.
My cock throbs at the idea of taking her, pre-cum already leaking from the tip as if preparing to take her here and now. My breath stalls in my chest, my body practically vibrating withneed, and my muscles tense to pounce…only to deflate when Soren clears his throat from only a foot away.
He groans and leans against the wall next to us. His hand is in his pants, and I’m not sure if he’s assessing the damage or trying to stop his dick from reacting to the image of me taking Anita.
I wince in sympathy.
An erection hurts after having your balls crunched then scrambled.
Some of my sanity returns, and I’m shocked at how easily I lost control.
I don’t regret it for a second, not when it led to having her in my arms.
With great reluctance, I release my hold on her wrists, then drag my fingers down her arms, not ready to let her go yet. I love the way she shivers when my fingertips brush over the delicate underside of her sensitive flesh.
With one last deep breath of her scent, I straighten. It takes another moment for me to physically force myself to step back. It’s akin to pulling off my own flesh, and my basilisk tightens around my insides in punishment, desperate to finish what we started and claim her for our own.
By the time I’m once again leaning back against the wall across the hallway, I’m breathing heavily, like I went a round with Soren and got my ass kicked. My muscles are locked tight against the need to grab Anita and haul her back into the room so I can worship every inch of her body.
Anita’s head is bowed, her forehead pressed against the wall as she collects herself, and my chest puffs up at knowing she feels the same connection. Sure, the oils on my skin can be poisonous, but small microdoses can also lower inhibitions and act similar to an aphrodisiac.
Maybe I should feel guilty for influencing her, but she wouldn’t have reacted that way if the attraction wasn’t present, even if it was only subconsciously.
My basilisk basks in the knowledge, the smug bastard.
I should be annoyed, but I’m just too grateful.
Anita heaves out a sigh, then straightens to her full height, pulling her shoulders back before turning to face me. Instead of blasting me, her open mouth snaps shut, and she blinks, her head tilting to the side as she surveys me.
“Your eyes are stunning,” she murmurs, her lips pursed. “I can almost see why you would hide them. The brilliant yellow flecks floating in the bright green color are almost hypnotizing. You must get tired of beating off women…and men.”
I tense at her comment, quickly turning away and dropping my gaze, my heart hammering against my ribs when I see my sunglasses abandoned on the floor where they fell during our scuffle.
I didn’t even notice.
I’m not sure which horrifies me the most—that she saw my eyes, or I didn’t notice the loss of my glasses at all.
Soren mutters a curse, grabs her arms, and spins her to face him. I release a shuddering breath, then stoop to snatch my glasses off the ground and shove them on with more force than necessary.
Only when they are back in place do I finally relax and glance anxiously toward Soren.
The hellhound cups her jaw, forcing her to look up at him so he can inspect her eyes. His other hand is curled around her neck, not even trying to be sneaky as he checks her pulse. There is a slight tremble in his fingers, and I swallow hard, cursing myself for the stupid slip.
My mouth is dry as I wait for his verdict, and I can’t hear anything over the thundering of my heartbeat.
