And Idon’twant to. Not anymore.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
AUGUSTINE
West meets my eyes again and shifts closer, thighs parting to bracket my hips.
In a low growl, I say, “You’re playing with fire, witchling.”
“Yeah. I shouldprobablybe more careful, but… You know what? I don’t really care.” She flashes an adorably wicked grin, then closes her lips around my thumb, her tongue gliding across the tip. I can’t help it—I push in deeper, then slide out, only to slip right back in again.
Her eyelids flutter closed and another soft moan vibrates from her lips. One that goes far beyond appreciating my cooking.
I push in deeper once again, then pull back, in and out and in and out until suddenly I’m straight up fucking her mouth with my thumb, and I’ve never felt anything so erotic in my life. The nip of small teeth, the warm velvet of her tongue, the hot mist of her breath as I plumb that soft, wet heat…
Fuck it.
I pull out of her mouth and descend on her like a storm, shoving my hands into her hair and yanking her close. Too close to fucking move, to breathe, to do anything but take it as I crash against her lips and steal the kiss I’ve been fantasizing about since that first night I saw her walking down the aisle.
She slides her hands into my hair and wraps her fingers around my horns, and I push my tongue deeper into her mouth, licking and teasing her,tastingher—fuck, she’s maple and coffee and the sun I haven’t felt on my skin in centuries and suddenly all I want to do is take her. Fuck her.
Ownher.
I grab her by the throat and push her down on the counter, flat on her back, spilling the bottle of syrup. Her eyes darken with pure lust, mouth curving into a sexy little smirk that dares me to keep pushing.
“You good?” I ask, hoping like hell I’m reading her right, or I’ve got a long, painful night ahead of me.
“Yes,” she breathes. “Don’t stop.”
I’ve got one hand firm around her throat, the other already reaching under my loincloth for my cock, more than ready to shove those cute little boxers and panties to the side and claim her right here in a river of maple syrup—
“Since when did night-breakfast become a full contact sport?” Jude laughs, crashing into the moment with all the subtlety of a train wreck.
I was so caught up I didn’t even hear them come in, but now he’s right on the other side of the counter, leaning across to drag his tongue over West’s maple-soaked thigh. “Mmm. Nothing quite like the real thing, is there?”
He glances up at me and winks, his grin as crazy as ever.
Fucking Jude.
If he’s upset about catching me with the witch he devoured last night, he doesn’t show it. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s pretty damn turned on.
The others enter behind him, arms laden with grocery bags. Drae’s looking dour as usual, but Rook’s got a vase of bright yellow flowers that immediately cheer the place up.
“What’s all this?” West hops off the counter and readjusts herself, grabbing a wet paper towel to clean off the rest of the syrup as if it’s perfectly normal to have three gargoyles walk in on the fourth one about to crack your fucking spine on the kitchen counter.
“Since you’re not getting much sunshine these days,” Rook says, “I thought we could bring some sunshine to you. It’s not the same, of course. You’ll still need to spend at least a few minutes outside during the daylight hours to get your Vitamin D, but… I double-checked your list of known allergies, and these all pass the test.”
“They’re beautiful, Rook.” She takes the vase and sets it on the table, letting her birds investigate. After a few curious pecks, they hop off the table and head for the door, and West lets them outside. “That was really thoughtful of you.”
Rook blushes, but he can’t hide the shit-eating grin spreading across his face.
West stretches up on her toes to kiss his cheek.
“You know, scarecrow,” Jude says, sneaking around behind her and leaning in to nuzzle her neck. “I’m beginning to feel a bit left out here. Have you got a kiss for me?”
“Hell no!” Squealing, she squirms away from him. “Bring me flowers or make me waffles—then we’ll talk.”
“I don’t want to talk,” he says. “I want to—”
