Page 37 of Hexy Beast

Fuck this. I’m not about to let this go on any longer. If he’s not going to get me off, I will. I slide my hands, icy from being flat against the cave wall, up under the hem of my hoodie and cup my boobs, biting down on my bottom lip and concentrating on the feelings of pleasure flooding through me.

“Your ego is out of control,” I say as I tug on my nipples in just the way I know I need to to get me where I want to go.

It’s not easy for me to get off this way, but I’m so fucking on edge right now anyway that I think a splash from the waterfall would send me over.

“You think I’m all ego,” Darius says, his voice no more than a rumbly whisper. “That’s only true if I can’t back it up, and witch, you’re about to find out that I can.”

I’m about to tell him to prove it when he brings the heel of his palm down to my clit at the same time that he slides two thick fingers inside me. It’s impossible to muffle my groan of pleasure. I can’t even roll my nipples anymore; the buzzing going through me in waves is too much already for anything but enjoying the ride.

Every part of me is vibrating with a sensation I’ve never felt before. It’s more than lust or pleasure or the anticipation of release. It’s like a part of me that I didn’t even know was there is being unlocked and set free. The cave walls are gone. The waterfall has disappeared. The woods, the other werewolves, the rest of Witchingdom have transformed into a barely remembered dream. There’s only Darius, holding me up and whispering in my ear.

“You like how I work that pussy, don’t you,” Darius says, but it’s not a question because he knows the answer. The sureness is there in the low rumble of his voice as he pumps his fingers in and out at the same time that he rubs the heel of his hand against my clit.

If he expects an answer, he’s about to be very disappointed, because there’s no way I can form a single solitary word. Not when my whole body is already tensing up, ready to let go and get washed away by the orgasm that’s been building since practically the first snarl.

“Have you run out of words, witch?” He pulls his hand away, stealing my orgasm from me. “That’s too bad.”

“Darius.” His name comes from that desperate place deep inside me. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Don’t worry,” he says, pulling his hand out from my waistband, “this is just a short pause.”

I’m about to lodge a formal complaint when he takes hold of the hardest-working string in Witchingdom that’s holding my sweatpants up and tugs it loose. There’s a half second when my pants stay up, and then they fall to my ankles. Darius’s hands are on my hips in a heartbeat, and he spins me around so my back is nearly touching the wall and I’m facing him. There’s something hungry and almost feral in his expression, as if he’s already lost the battle for his self-control, but he refuses to acknowledge it.

“I’ve got you,” he says.

I have a whole two seconds to wonder what he means, and then he lifts me straight up in the air so my aching core is at mouth level for him. He holds me there in midair without the aid of anything but his own strength for a beat without moving, as if he just wants to take in the view. I have other plans. I have the wherewithal to sling my legs over his broad shoulders, but that is the last thing I do with anything even close to a conscious thought, because the next thing I know, his hands move from my hips so he’s cupping my ass, then his mouth is on my pussy and he is making out with my clit like it’s his job.

And he fucking looooooooves his job.

My hands are in his long hair, holding him in place as he does things with his mouth that have my toes curling already. Yeah, maybe I should be worried about suffocating him or being dropped, but if there’s ever been a time in my life when I could really appreciate shifter strength and endurance, this is it. I swear I can taste colors and see sounds as my whole body vibrates with my incoming climax. Then, as if he knows, he grips my butt tighter, the tip of one finger brushing against my asshole. I let out a moan of pleasure as I clamp my thighs around his head, and so he does it again and again as he laps and circles my clit until it’s all too much and my orgasm hits so hard the whole world goes dark for a moment and I let so much pleasure wash over me, it feels like I’m getting pulled out to sea on a riptide.

Darius holds me up until I crack my eyes open again and look down at his slick mouth.

I let my legs fall from his shoulders, and he lowers me until my feet touch the floor, and then he waits, still holding me, watching me. My thighs are a jiggly no-bones mess, and yet I’m still on edge, needy, hungry for him.

Judging by the long line of his hard cock pushing against his sweats, Darius wants me just as much. Still, he doesn’t make a move. The man really is a giant pain in my ass. He is going to make me do it because hearing me say I want him wasn’t enough, nor was coming on his face. Nope. He wants more. He wants all of me.

So that’s what I give him—but not right away.

First, I take my time getting off the oversized hoodie, slipping my arms out of the sleeves one and then the other, lifting it up from my bare thighs in half-inch sections, and going slow enough that when I finally drop it to the cave’s floor, Darius looks like he’s moments away from a heart attack.

Still, he waits, his whole body strung tight, no doubt from the effort not to be the first one to give in. Don’t worry, I’m not going to make the stubborn alpha keel over—not after he blew me away with his skills. Honestly, I can’t wait to find out what else he’s amazing at.

But first, I owe him for teasing me so much before he made me come. I take a step forward and slip my hands under his hoodie, pushing it up and up and up, until he lets out a frustrated huff, reaches behind his head, and yanks it off. His sweatpants go next, joining my discarded set on the ground.

I’ve already seen him naked, but that doesn’t make seeing him naked again any less impressive. The man is a brick wall of muscle that has been tagged with tattoos. There’s a dusting of dark hair across his pecs and a line that draws my gaze down to his thick cock. I want to wrap my hands around it, my mouth around it, myself around it all at the same time. Darius Aetos is an embarrassing bounty of deliciousness, and I just want to eat him all up.

I trace the lines of his tattoos as I make a long, slow circle around him, leaning in close and following the brush of my fingers with my lips, my tongue, before I circle his cock with my hand—or as best I can. My fingers don’t come close to meeting as I stroke my hand up and down his length once, twice, three times.

He closes his eyes and lets out a tortured hiss of air before growling something under his breath that sounds a lot like “troublesome witch.” Then he wraps his hand around my wrist, stopping me from continuing. “I’m not coming until I’m inside you.”

There’s a whole millisecond when I consider drawing things out even longer, but who am I trying to fool? We’re naked, alone, and I want him so badly that it’s almost like I haven’t already come once. “So what are you waiting for?”

It’s a good thing this is only a situational hookup, because shifter speed is something I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to. One minute I’m on my feet and the next I’m on my back on the blanket and Darius is kissing me into oblivion. I wrap my legs around him and lift my hips, ravenous with the need for him. This time he doesn’t make me wait. He gives me exactly what I want, filling me up in one long, slow stroke that leaves me gasping. Hot and heady pleasure winds through me, taking up all the empty space and finding a home in every part of me that ever felt hollow or missing. It doesn’t just feel good. It’s more than amazing. I don’t know the word for it or if there is one, but it is the best thing I’ve experienced.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, the muscles in his back taut with the effort to be still.

“If you do,” I say, looking him in the eyes, “I’ll curse you so that you always feel like you’re stepping on Legos.”