Page 52

As he lay back on the bed again, I took him in both hands.

His rumble stopped dead.

Groaning, he thrust his hips up to meet my hand. “Rain.”

“Mm.”

“That’s—”

Leaning close, I sucked the tip into my mouth, taking as much as I could. The rest was what hands were for, and I’d spent fifteen years learning what to do with my hands while my mouth was occupied with talking.

The bed made a noise as he shifted, a creaking moan I felt all the way to my bones. I was wet for him already, and I’d barely gotten started.

There was a way to steep tea past where others would stop, right to the edge. Some leaves only give up the deep note at the very end. I took him there, showing no mercy. Every time he got close, and I felt it coming up under my palms, I stopped, waited, and let it go by.

“Fucking…” he rasped, his eyes closed, strain creasing his face. He clutched the blanket so hard, I was sure he’d rip it.

“Yes, that. Soon, I hope.” I sucked him back into my mouth, swirling my tongue over the tip.

His restraint died in stages. First the fists in the bedding. Then my name shouted at the ceiling. And last, a full sentence. Begged in a hoarse voice. Grammar intact even then, because he is who he is.

“Rain. Please. I’m asking you to finish this.”

With a satisfied smile, I ran my tongue up his cock and pulled him as deep as I could into my mouth.

He fell apart, all at once, his groan vibrating the floorboards. I kept licking and sucking until he’d gone limp in every way possible. Nothing about this male was beyond a determined witch’s craft. That was my new finding.

He hauled me up and held me against his rumble. He didn’t speak, and neither did I. I savored his taste and the feeling I got from knowing I’d pleased him.

“The quilt,” he said, nudging his chin to where he’d ripped it.

“A casualty of our new treaty.”

“I’ll buy another.”

“Buy ten,” I said.

His laugh rolled through his chest and into mine.

I grinned.

“Your turn again,” he said, laying me back on the bed and climbing between my legs. “I owe you at least two now, correct?”

“I’m not keeping count, but sure. Two. Three maybe?”

He sent me a mischievous smile. “Four will get me ahead.”

“Then I’ll owe you,” I said, breathless already.

“I’ll make sure you pay before the week’s through.”

And he proceeded to show me.

“There’s something we haven’t done,” he said, later, while I lay in his arms in the dark.

“I’ve noticed, and I’ve been patient. It’s cost me years off my life.”

“I waited.” He found my hand under the quilt and laid it on his sternum, over the slow drum of his heart. “I want to do it right. Which means talking first. Out loud. Laying it out.”