I let out a soft moan. He feels so good. So amazing.
But it’s not enough.
I want more.
Ineedmore.
I slide my hands into his hair, raking my nails over his scalp, slowly making my way to his horns.
He shudders at my every touch, his thumb ghosting over my clit as his fingers curl inside me, but… no. I’m not ready to come for him yet.
For once, I want to take charge. I want to make the gargoyle come forme.
With a wicked grin, I wriggle out of his hold and drop to my knees in front of him, my hands gripping his muscular thighs and sliding upward, pushing aside his loincloth to reveal his stiff cock. It bobs invitingly before me, velvety gray like his skin, streaked with veins of darker gray running down the length, thick and heavy with a slight curve at the tip that already has me fantasizing about how it would feel buried inside me.
I wrap both hands around it, stroking him once, twice, then dragging my tongue up along the underside, swirling over the tip. Auggie growls, sliding his hand into my hair and fisting it tight, his head lolling back against the couch. “You’re… you’re killing me, witchling. Fuckingkillingme.”
Just like Jude’s, Auggie’s cock is impossibly large. There’s no way I can take it all the way into my mouth, so I suck on the head, stroking his shaft with both hands, putting a gentle pressure on the underside as my thumbs run and up and down the length.
Goddess, he tastes so good. So rich and smooth. His hands tighten in my hair, and he guides my head into a slow rhythm as I continue to lick and suck and tease and stroke, coaxing deep groans of pleasure from my gargoyle until he’s thrusting up from the couch, fucking me deeper, harder. I can’t take all of him at once, but he doesn’t seem to care that he’s slipping in and out of my mouth, sliding across my lips, my chin, wet and sloppy and so fucking hot it’s all I can do not to reach a hand down my pants and touch myself.
“Westlyn,fuck… That’s it. Right there.Rightfucking there…” He grips my hair so hard it makes my eyes water, and I give the head of his cock one more swirl with my tongue, then stretch my lips over it and suck, stroking him hard and fast with both hands, flicking him with the tip of my tongue, and then…
“Fuckinghell!” He comes in a furious rush that hits the back of my throat and fills my mouth, and I swallow every red-hot pulse, every drop.
He finally releases his grip on my hair, and I rock back on my heels, gazing up at him with wide eyes and what I’m sure are pink, puffy lips.
With a dimpled smile that melts my heart, he leans forward and runs his thumb along my lower lip. “You constantly surprise me, witchling.”
“Honestly? I surprise myself too.” I laugh. “I can’t believe I just did that. I’ve never… was that… was it all right?”
A deep, rich laugh rumbles up through his chest, and he leans forward and gathers me into his arms, standing up and throwing me over his shoulder.
Before I can even utter a single protest, he says, “I can’t even tell you how fucking amazing that felt, witchling. But I let you haveyourfun. Now it’s my turn.” He stalks across the library toward the barn door. “Andmyfun involves throwing you down and fucking you the way I’ve beendreamingabout fucking you every goddamn night since I first saw you in that lacy black dress.”
“You… You’ve wanted me since the wedding?” I breathe.
His laugh rumbles through me. “You’re all I can think about, West.”
“Where are we going?”
“Rook will be back from the city soon, ready to hit the books again. So unless you want him studyingus, I’m taking you up to my suite.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
JUDE
Apparently, Auggie and my little scarecrow were so eager to get to the good part, they didn’t even bother undressing all the way. She’s still got her sweatshirt on, but her thighs are bare, his talons gripping them tight as she rides him in a slow, seductive dance.
She’s a fucking vision, her soft moans floating on the air, silver moonlight caressing the black hair spilling down her back, sheets half torn from the bed as her hips circle, drawing him deeper and deeper inside…
Rook and I just got home from a visit to the fire inspector with Drae—team effort, this one. Turns out the old guy’s a real stickler for policy and procedure, and that simply won’t do.
Cost the poor bastard a finger—my handiwork—and a live demo of one of his illegal offshore bank accounts being drained—Rook’s—but we finally sorted out our differences about the Forsythe blaze.
Official cause? Faulty electrical. You’ve got to be careful with those old brownstones. And a library full of old books? Fucking tinderbox, that.
Anyway, that’s all settled now. Drae’s still in the city, and Rook’s got his nose buried in the fae books again, and Lucinda and Huxley aren’t that great at conversation, so here I am, stalking my scarecrow just like old times.
