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I wrap my fingers around the head of his cock, just under the crown. He jolts … but he doesn’t move me. I squeeze a little. “That’s not a no.”
“Take off your fucking pants.” He removes my hand from his cock and climbs off the bed. Apparently I’m not moving fast enough for him, because his magic wraps around me and lifts me into the air. I can barely process what he’s doing when his power hooks my pants and drags them off my body.
It’s as if my lust has been jammed up during the tattoo in process and the whole thing exploded. I need him inside me and I need it now. Even so, I notice that he’s careful not to rip my clothing. Gods, he’s too good to be real sometimes.
Bowen grabs me around the hips and pulls me toward him. He’s got such a great way of manhandling me, where he moves me around all while still being so careful. He knows his strength, and he knows how easily he could hurt me. Maybe it’s fucked up to get off on that, but I like what I like.
I’m still several feet off the bed, which means I’m perfectly even with his hips as he stands. “This whole magic-while-fucking thing is really useful.”
I can’t even appreciate his sigh of amused irritation because he chooses that moment to grip my hip and shove two fingers into me. I don’t mean to shriek, but even as wet as I am, it’s an intrusion. One I welcome. Not that Bowen is giving me time to sink into the sensation. He fucks me roughly with his fingers, wedging a third in before I’m accustomed to the two. I love it. “Give me your cock,” I moan.
“I’m. Fucking. Trying.”
Trying not to hurt me, even though we’re both so desperate that I wouldn’t give a shit if he did. I try to lift my hips, but his magic isn’t creating a table that I’m lying on; it’s wrapped around me. Pinning me in place in midair. I can’t stop myself from making a frustrated sound, even as the knowledge that I can’t move only drives my need higher. “I can take it, Bowen. Please don’t make me wait. I need you.”
“Woman, you are going to send me to an early grave.” But he does as I ask. He pulls his fingers out of me and shifts until I feel the press of his broad cock against my entrance. “Taking you at your word,” he mutters.
He shoves into me in one long, unrelenting stroke. I shriek again. Bowen pauses, no doubt to ensure I’m okay, but I don’t give him a chance to ask. “Don’t stop!”
His hesitation doesn’t last longer than it takes the words to escape my lips. He grabs my hips and the magic around me shifts my body until I’m at exactly the angle he wants. Then he starts to fuck me properly. He thrusts into me again and again, each time shifting my hips a little bit until he finds the exact alignment that has me screaming and writhing. I can’t think. I can’t thrust back. I can take only what he gives me.
Again, and again, he pounds against that spot inside me. And then his magic shifts around my body. It’s no longer only holding me in place. Little tendrils stroke over my stomach, my thighs, my breasts. Bowen keeps his actual hands on my hips, but the tendrils on my thighs shift down to play with my clit while the others focus on my breasts, squeezing and stroking and toying with my nipples. My lust surges so fucking fast it makes my head spin. My entire world narrows down to his cock inside me and his magic against my skin, stoking my pleasure higher and higher. All while his dark gaze consumes me.
I don’t know if I want to hold out or welcome the orgasm bearing down on me. I don’t get a choice. I bury my face in the sheets and scream Bowen’s name as I orgasm. I come so hard, I don’t register that he’s pulling out of me until his knees hit the ground behind me, and then his mouth is on my pussy. The motherfucker is still holding me in the air with his magic, still playing with my breasts, though the tendrils move from my clit to make room for his tongue … and slide down to press into me. His touch feels seared into my skin, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. There’s no opportunity to catch my breath. In the time we share together at that inn, he learned what I like and he learned it well.
He fucks me with his magic while he focuses on my clit with his tongue as if he has nowhere else to be. As if he can hold me in this position until the end of days. It’s sexy and no little amount of terrifying. So, of course, I promptly come all over his face.
Only then does he rise again, still holding me aloft with his power. He looks like a man possessed, his eyes downright feral and every muscle standing out in his body as he presses my thighs wide and shoves his cock into me again.
I might be out of my mind with pleasure, but that doesn’t stop me from raising my head so I can look down to where we’re joined. It’s so fucking sexy to see my body take him, his broad length spreading my pussy’s lips. It’s filthy and no small amount of obscene. I love it. “That feels so good.”
In response, he presses my thighs even wider until my hips ache. It allows me to take him deeper yet, and we both moan on the next thrust. “Never get enough of you,” he mutters. “Can’t get deep enough, can’t make you come enough times, can’t fill you up until you’re dripping with me. Barely finish inside you, and all I can think about is starting again.”
I couldn’t find the words to respond to that even if he wasn’t fucking my ability to speak right out of me. I feel the same way. I want to blame it on frenzy, but I’ve felt frenzy before with past partners. This is different. Even as he is pounding into me as if he wants to imprint himself on my pussy, there’s a level of caring that I don’t know how to define.
I orgasm again before I have to decide if this is what love feels like. It’s just as well. I might be able to recognize it when it comes to family, but I’ve never felt it romantically. Who’s to say this isn’t love?
Bowen pulls me to him, careful of my fresh tattoos, and kisses me as he comes deep inside me. He loves to have his mouth on mine as he’s pumping me full of him. Truth be told, I love it, too. It’s just another in a long list of intimacies that I enjoy experiencing with him.
He gently pulls out of me and we both look down to see evidence of our fucking dripping from my body. I shiver and Bowen kisses me again. Then his fingers are there, pressing back into me slowly. It takes me a second to understand what he’s doing.
He’s finger fucking his come back into me.
“Bowen.”
He brushes a kiss to one side of my mouth and then the other. “Do you want me to stop?”
My active spell ensures I can’t get pregnant. This is all for possessive show, not with any endgame in mind. The scary thing is that I’m not sure if it would matter even if I wasn’t protected. I kiss him harder and spread my thighs. “Don’t let a single drop go to waste.”
He groans against my lips and then he takes my mouth as if we both aren’t still shaking from coming so hard. As if we’re just starting fresh. He gathers up what little come has escaped and shoves it back into me, pressing his fingers deep, as if he can reach a point of no return. He moves down to lick my throat. “You drive me out of my mind, Evie. I don’t feel like myself. I know you want to go home, but it’s taking everything I am not to haul you off to some island and burn all your clothes. We could spend the rest of our lives just like this, with me worshiping your pretty pussy.”
I try to tell myself it’s just sex making him say these things, but I don’t believe it for a moment. Bowen never says things he doesn’t mean, and I highly doubt he’s starting now.
He wants to keep me.
And gods help me, but there’s a part of me that wants to be kept by him.
I kiss him to stop myself from begging him to do exactly that, to haul me off and take away my ability to leave him. He moves me down to the bed and presses me onto my back, all without removing his fingers from my pussy. “Have you had enough?”
