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“Yeah,” said Xavier. “It means we don’t have to burn shit down. That’s always a plus.” The thing was . . . he wasn’t kidding. The guy would totally have started setting stuff on fire, maybe even actual people.
“We were quite sure you would be fine,” Hattie told her. “Kali wouldn’t have allowed anything else, if you ask me. She might be annoyingly cryptic, but She comes in handy when it counts.”
Wynter felt an unnatural breeze flutter around her legs, holding an air of amusement. The deity was kind of touchy, but She never seemed offended by anything that came out of the coven’s mouths. Probably because they were so freaking nuts that She struggled to take them seriously.
“Did Saul reappear after I left with Wynter?” Cain asked no one in particular.
It was Azazel who replied, “No. I think you got him good, but I can’t be sure. The wind took him too fast for me to get a decent look at his wounds.”
That was a damn shame.
Hattie shuffled forward, wincing and putting a hand to her “bad back.” Seth was quick to help her into a seat, utterly unaware that the woman was playing the frail card to get some male attention. She smiled up at him. “Oh, thank you, young man. Well, I say ‘young,’ but you’re probably older than all my coven members put together, aren’t you? You know, I’m currently reading a book about immortals. The hero is rather dreamy. A very talented dirty talker, too.”
Wynter sucked in her lips to hide a smile. The woman was shameless. And Wynter hoped she never changed.
“He’s a little strange at times, though, I must say,” Hattie added, her brow furrowing slightly. “He keeps threatening to hit the heroine with a teabag during sex.”
A short, awkward silence fell.
Xavier cleared his throat, a smile flirting with his mouth. “Just to be clear . . . he threatens to teabag her or hit her with a teabag?”
Hattie’s frown deepened. “Aren’t they both the same thing? Why are you smirking, Xav—Ooh, wait, is it code for something? Tell me.”
His shoulders shaking, Xavier looked away while Wynter exchanged an “Oh God” look with Delilah.
Anabel pinched the bridge of her nose. “Jesus, Hattie . . . When we get home, I’ll explain.”
Hattie shot her a beseeching look. “Oh, but—”
“When we get home,” Anabel reiterated.
Huffing, Hattie looked up at Seth. “You see how they treat me?” She paused, studying him. “Do you know what teabagging is?”
Wynter cursed. “Hattie.”
The old woman looked at her. “Just tell me one thing, is it when a man strokes a woman with a teabag during sex?”
“Yes,” said Xavier.
Anabel growled. “No, it’s—Xavier.”
He just laughed.
The sight of Wynter sitting naked on the edge of his bed was a turn-on all by itself. Standing between her spread thighs with his hand bunched in her hair, watching his cock disappear into her mouth again and again . . . Not much beat that.
Cain still hadn’t quite shaken off the torment he’d earlier felt at holding her dead body in his arms. The need to prove to himself in the most elemental of ways that she was alive again had badgered at him. He’d meant to spread her out on his bed and take her soft and slow, but she apparently had other plans.
Normally, he’d have pushed aside her plans in favor of his own. But turn down a blowjob from his consort? No, he wasn’t about to do that.
His pleasure wasn’t merely about the blowjob itself—though fuck if she didn’t know her way around one—it was about how blatantly possessive she was at these moments. The bold grip of her hand on the base of his shaft, the carnally intimate looks she gifted him, the hungry way she suckled on him, the territorial edge to the soft touch of her fingertips skimming down his side . . . all of it fed his own possessiveness.
It also pricked at the primal, overly jealous part of him that she had more power over than she could ever know. He loathed that other men had touched her, pleasured her, knew her taste, felt her mouth on them. Given the opportunity, Cain was quite sure he’d put them through a world of pain, rational or not. His creature would probably insist on it.
One thing appeased that jealous streak—she now belonged solely to him, and that was something that would never change.
Cain gritted his teeth as she began to suck even harder. As much as he got off on fucking her mouth, he preferred watching her work his cock all on her own like this. She wasn’t simply going through the motions. She wanted him to feel good, and she ensured that she did by putting to use what she’d learned he most liked.
“Give me your hand,” he said. “The one I branded.” As he often did when she sucked him off, he breezed his thumb over the outer edges of his mark on her palm, knowing it would feel to her as if the pad of his thumb stroked the folds of her pussy.
