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“I don’t give them what they want,” he says, easing out of me.
Not what I expected, but when I turn to look at him, he slaps my ass hard enough to sting.
“Ouch!” I snap, but then he runs his tongue over the throbbing spot, making me go still.
“You want my cock?” he asks.
I nod, because even if I am broken and can’t come, having my mate inside of me is as close to euphoria as I’ve ever been.
I’m not ready to stop.
A quick glance at the hourglass tells me we still have time, but precious moments are slipping away.
“You lied to me, so you’re going to have to earn it back,” he says. “In the meantime, I’m going to indulge in what I’ve been wanting to do this whole time.”
Before I have a chance to ask what he means, he spreads me with his fingers, then runs his tongue across my opening.
“Jasper,” I hiss when he shoves his tongue inside, spearing me with it and eliciting a whole new set of sensations.
Because his fangs are pressed up against my very sensitive area, and that both thrills and terrifies me.
“Call me Jas,” he says, making me flinch when his words hit my swollen heat.
“Jas,” I immediately say, eager to please him.
Because his tongue and his danger might just undo me, and as much as I have been attempting to orgasm, now I’m not so sure I’m ready.
Not for the kind of climax Jasper Justi offers.
The bed shifts and I realize he’s rolled onto his back. He removes the pillow, yanking it down as he catches my hip.
“Ride my face, little witchling.”
His brazen words have me blushing all over again. I’m not a prude. I read more than just spell books. I have an entire collection of five-chili-pepper smut that would make even my sister raise eyebrows. Thanks to my spells, I’ve kept them hidden from her and the rest of my family.
Ayla is the only one who knows about my collection, because she’s my source, too. She helped me begin restocking once we settled into the cottage—under a blood vow not to tell anyone about it.
It’s not the lady porn that I’m shy about; it’s thekindof books I’ve collected.
The ones with three paragraphs of trigger warnings in the front. Those are the ones I’m drawn to like a moth to a flame. I need to be burned alive to feel anything at all.
I definitely don’t want Fallon to know that I have some pretty dark kinks. I’d like to think she’d be supportive—and she probably would be, but the self-conscious part of me worries she’ll explain it away as trauma gone wrong.
The only time I can orgasm is when I’m close to death. That could mean choking myself, blood loss, or a myriad of other techniques I’ve come up with over the years just tofeelsomething.
Jasper Justi. He’s death itself.
I feel it in his touch. Each stroke of his tongue has me shivering and panting with renewed need. He dents his fingers into my thighs, demanding that I comply with his order, and I find my hips moving against him.
Rubbing myself on his face like I’m some sort of sex lunatic.
“That’s a good girl,” he praises, making me see stars when he sweeps his tongue all the way over my clit, then lightly nips it.
I buck when he does that and he goes still.
“Fuck, that made you wet. Do you like pain, witchling?” He chuckles as he rakes his nails over my skin, leaving stinging lines of sensation. “What am I saying? Of course you do. Fate chose you for me because you’refucking perfect.”
It’s not exactly pain that threatens to send me over the edge, but the danger Jas promises.
