Page 78 of Wrongfully Magicked
It’s impossible to turn him away when my magic is begging that I make him mine. Instead of ducking under his arms to escape, I reach back and hop onto the counter, then hook my legs around the back of his thighs and drag him forward.
His eyes pop open wide, his pupils blowing out. I lean closer, my cheek brushing against his jaw, then I throw out a challenge and whisper into his ear. “You can try, but I suspect you’ll be the one who cries mercy first. Your skin would look really pretty with my mark decorating it.”
I barely finish speaking when the sound of wood creaking reaches my ears. I draw back but don’t have time to investigate before Stryker sinks his hands into my hair and cradles my face like I’m something precious. He draws my head back, and my breath catches when I glimpse his hungry expression.
It looks like he wants to devour me. I shiver, imagining all the naughty things he will do to me when he gets his hands on me. It’s enough that I groan, then I close the distance between us. When our mouths collide, all thoughts vanish, leaving nothing behind but the need for more.
I hitch my legs up, wrapping them around his waist, and draw him closer. A hum of approval escapes me when his cock presses against my clit in just the right way, sending sparks shooting through my system.
Unable to be close and not touch him, I gingerly rest my hands on his pecs, relishing the heat radiating from him. I pull away from his kiss and explore his chest, worried that my touch might hurt him, but my flames remain dormant for the moment.
My attention wanders for a second, searching the bathroom almost in panic when I don’t find Soren. It’s only when I see him leaning against the opposite wall, watching us with a fierce intensity, that I relax. His steady presence settles my nerves, and I know he will do whatever it takes to stop me before I can hurt Stryker.
I barely finish that thought before Stryker kisses me again, and the rest of the world vanishes. The brisk smell of snow drifting off an icy mountaintop fills my head, and the taste of wildness is like a drug rushing through my veins. A rough purr rumbles in his chest as our tongues battle for dominance, and my breath catches when the vibrations move through his body and hit my core.
I can’t stop myself from arching against him in a silent demand for more. One of his hands slips to the back of my neck, as if he’s afraid I might try to get away, while the other hand skims down my back to settle on my hip. He drags me closer, his grip possessive, and my brain short-circuits.
He takes full advantage of my distraction by dragging me to the edge of the counter and pressing the full length of his cock against me in a way that sends a shudder of lust through me.
Wanting to drive him just as wild, I brush my tongue against his fangs. Claws immediately graze my skin, dimpling my flesh, but they don’t press hard enough to draw blood.
I should feel threatened, but the drag of his claws against my sensitive skin just makes me crave more of his touch. My nipples harden, begging for attention, and I curse that my shirt is in the way.
I usually don’t throw myself at a guy within hours of meeting them. Normally, I thoroughly vet a man before I approach them to ensure they have no connections to my family, then I buy them a drink, flirt, and drag them into a back-alley or bathroom for a quick fuck. Before they even get their pants buttoned back up, I vanish to avoid awkward conversations and clingy situations.
Most don’t even know my real name.
It’s different with Stryker. He knows more about me than most. He’s seen me at my most vulnerable and didn’t flinch. Something about this beautiful, broken man calls to my soul.
He’s mine.
It’s as simple as that.
I pull back, panting heavily as I reach for the bottom of my shirt. Stryker growls, knocking my hands away, then he takes over and whisks the top over my head. His attention drops to my breasts, my bra barely able to contain them. I’m not a busty woman, but I have enough and know how to make a good bra work for me.
Appreciation darkens his eyes, and he lifts one clawed hand and drags it down the center of my chest. With a flick of his finger, his claw slices through the material, and my breasts spill free. Before I can gasp, he drops to his knees and sucks my nipple into his mouth.
The rough texture of his tongue nearly has my eyes rolling back into my head. I thread my fingers into his shoulder-length black hair, holding him close, and I can’t resist touching the tip of his ear. It’s so thick and fluffy that my fingers sink into the fur.
A loud purr rumbles in his chest, vibrating against my sensitive nipples, and my core clenches with the need to be filled. He pulls back, inhaling deeply, and I blush when I realize he must be smelling my lust.
His blue eyes are nearly swallowed by his pupils, then his focus drops to my jeans like a predator slowly closing in on its prey. He reaches for my pants, not waiting for permission, and slices cleanly through the material. He doesn’t even bother stripping them from me before he buries his face between my legs and just feasts.
It takes only one lick of his rough tongue for my body to go rigid. He draws me closer to the edge of the countertop until I fall back, and he’s holding my full weight. Not once does he stop licking and exploring my folds.
It’s like he’s been given a gods-be-damned map on how to pleasure a woman, because in less than a minute, I’m on thecusp of an orgasm. When his tongue inches a little too far back and caresses the rosette of my ass, I try to squirm away, but he holds me still.
With the second pass, I’m gone, the first tremors of my orgasm swallowing me whole.
He quickly returns to my clit, giving it a few licks like some damn Morse code that tells my body to detonate again, before I’ve even come down from my first orgasm. My vision turns black around the edges, my limbs tingle, and my lips feel numb.
I’m not even aware that I’m riding his face until he grips my hips and controls my pace. I’m barely coming down from my orgasm when he thrusts his tongue into me. It’s longer and thicker than I expected, and he manages to twist it a certain way, hitting something inside me that makes the world around me vanish.
He angles his head just right, so his fang hits my clit each time I rock against him, leaving me gasping with each thrust. When he purrs, my body fucking ignites, and I’m drowning in a third, even stronger orgasm that steals the breath from my lungs.
When I come back to myself, it’s to find Stryker still between my legs, licking me gently, his tongue thorough as he cleans me. He looks up at me, and it’s nothing but his beast staring back.
I’ve never fucked a beastling before, but I’ve heard rumors of their stamina. It’s said they can go for hours before taking their pleasure, and my pussy clenches at the thought. Three amazing orgasms are usually enough to satisfy me for a few weeks, but not with him.
