Entwined Strangers (BBW Shifter Romance): Sorcery & Shifters Book 4 (8 page)

To get what I want, however, something tells me my intention has to be stronger, certainly stronger than the quicksilver tendrils. For example, if I’m going to dismount him, I have to know exactly how I plan to keep his feeding his lust. The desire, the position, all of it.

If I don’t, then I suspect the tendrils will take over again.

Okay, I already have something in mind, so it’s now or never. Time to act on it.

Sure enough, the tendrils sense my intention and permit me to spring off long enough to spin around. The tendrils themselves have relaxed for a second, but they aren’t going far, still hovering around my body. They’re waiting to see what I do next before taking over again.

I grab Trent’s considerable stave, which I can easily do with both hands, and wrap my mouth over his wide head. The end is all I can manage, but it’s enough. The mushroomed ridge is the most sensitive part anyway.

My wrists immediately go to work, swirling his length, as my lips rise and fall on him, flicking the tip. I run my mouth and tongue sideways down his length of him, underneath his ridge in both directions. All the while looking up at him watching me.

Trent is loving it, and if Trent is loving it, the tendrils are as well. They begin to loosen their grip on me, trusting me to handle myself. If nothing else, it gives my poor snatch a chance to recover. Not forever, but for a few more moments at least.

Trent throbs in my hands. He’s getting close.

His claws reach down for my shoulders. They’re sharp and scratch without meaning to do so, but I can handle that. I haven’t looked at my backside. It’s probably torn up as well, but I can’t tell whether blood or sweat is rolling off my body right now.

Trent wants to back inside me again, which means the tendrils wants that as well. His lust is being serviced right now, not mine. The fact that I want him there only makes my work that much more painless.

There’s no resisting the tendrils, so I beat them to the punch, and act freely before they can take over my body again.

I stand up and push Trent backward, rocking him off his knees. He goes where I tell him and sits back on the floor, allowing me to straddle his torso, which isn’t easy, especially when he’s a half-man, half-wolf.

Trent’s even thicker through the middle than normal, but I stretch my legs apart, not quite doing the splits. If nothing else, my nethers open up even more in this position.

I push down on his chest and reach between my legs, guiding him back inside me. Trent lets me do all the work. My breach still remembers what to expect, and spreads apart for his return.

I close my eyes as the curve of him almost forces me to angle my posture in the same way.

I haven’t even started swiveling my hips, but I must be doing something right. Trent blossoms inside me, widening my sheath apart. He really does like it when I take over, which I suppose kind of makes sense.

He’s always in charge, always the pack leader. He can let go of all that with me. He can allow himself to relax for a change and lower his guard. I helped him reach this place. Trent might not realize that yet, but he must
feel
it on some level. And it all it took was a spontaneous kiss in that dark little room.

I barely knew this man earlier today. I didn’t know him at all when he first appeared in my visions, and even then, I vilified him before we met.

The actual person beneath in the flesh is completely different. We formed a bond in less than day. We’ve gone from being enemies to lovers.

Not only that, but I can cast wordless spells with Trent, something I should only be able to do with the man I love, according to Candice and Saffron.

I rise and fall on his pinnacle, controlling the rhythm. I take Trent inside me only insofar as I can, enjoying myself, savoring him. I’m accustomed to his magnitude now, even without the spell, and he feels phenomenal.

My fingers dig into his chest to let him know. My breath quickens as well. The signs that he watches for in me. I’m actually cooing before I realize it. That’s when I feel his hand on the side of my face, gentle despite the claws. Cupping my cheek.

I open my eyes and look down at him. What I see surprises me. Contentment and excitement at the same time, an expression that is human and wolfish simultaneously.

“The look on your face,” he says in a clear voice. “Taking what you want. This is when I find you the most beautiful.”

I smile down at him and reach for his hand, pulling it away from my face. He doesn’t understand what I’m doing for a second, but then I can kiss his palm. It’s an extremely intimate gesture, causing his eyes to widen and stay that way.

That’s when I surprise him by taking his thumb into my mouth, sucking on it like I was just sucking on him earlier. It’s too much for the werewolf between my legs.

I can feel the pressure throb in his length and then release, strobing past my nethers as uncontrolled jism rockets up through him and into me. His orgasm feeds my own, and for one perfect commingled instant, we are overcome by a wild surge of animalistic bliss.

I can only imagine what Candice and Saffron are feeling right now through the quicksilver pool. They’ll be linked as well, keeping tabs on my spellcasting activities while driving into the city with Mason. A part of me wishes I could see the looks on their faces.

There’s something about werewolf lovers in particular that makes them extremely good at filling our magic reservoir. We haven’t talked about it yet, but I think it has something to do with how the quicksilver of our spells interacts with the werewolf vulnerability to silver.

As if the werewolves in particular are more susceptible to being drained than mortal men.

Trent spumes inside me with the force of a cannon. It almost pushes me off him as I ride out his arousal. The lust that I’m siphoning at the same time is unprecedented. I can actually feel the pool filling up.

Trent’s eyes roll into the back of his head. He howls like a wolf at the moon, but fortunately, there’s no chance that my neighbors will hear of it. Not even Piper upstairs. This is my meditation room. I had it soundproofed. Not magically, but with noise-canceling technology in the walls.

This is my private sanctum, after all, devoid of distractions, a place to paint or draw ritual spells on the floor, but it could also double as a recording studio. I never imagined that it would be used to keep the noise inside this room from reaching the outside.

The insistence of the tendrils grows less and less as their hunger is sated. The need to control my body eases up as they gorge, releasing their claim on me completely. Me, the conduit for their sustenance. Perhaps now I can make the tendrils do my bidding again.

It occurs to me at this point that Trent isn’t stopping, a never-ending stream of werewolf spunk. This is hardly the first time I’ve been with a man of great quantity, but if he’s supplying the lust, I may as well keep my hooks in him.

First, the spell I’ve been eager to cast this whole time, especially now that the quicksilver pool has been amply replenished. Maintain the Flesh. The wordless spell goes off perfectly, but I really don’t want to deal with what that means for me and Trent.

I’m enjoying myself right now, so introspection can be damned. I’m too busy milking Trent for all he’s worth, and now that the spell is cast, no more holding back. None of this half-depth nonsense.

I stand up off his pulsating pinnacle and turn around, straddling Trent in reverse. I look back at him over my shoulder, reach between my legs, and feed him up inside me. It’s almost like trying to attach a garden hose to a water nozzle that’s still running at full blast.

His crimson eyes widen, taking it all in, the sight of me enveloping him.

I don’t think Trent actually caught his breath as I changed position, still firing into the air. I drop myself around him and take his entire length now, made possible by the spell. I sit up straight, pull my hair up off my neck, and swivel my hips around him.

“Jessica. How are you…?”

I love it. He can’t even form sentences. It must look almost nonsensical to him. This tiny woman, almost two feet shorter than him, taking his immense endowment.

“I just took some warming up. Sorry to keep you waiting,” I throw back at him with a devious smile. “Now don’t falter on me. I’ve only come twice so far.”

I let my hair fall and start bouncing up and down on his stomach, grinding against him. My arms are still crossed over the top of my head. His abdominal muscles are so hard, I may as well be slapping my nethers up against a brick wall.

Trent reaches up and places his claws on my back, drawing them down my spine. His touch feels incredible, but if the spell wasn’t protecting me, the sharpness of his nails would rend my flesh.

“Can’t. Stop. Coming,” he says.

He’s not lying. I can still feel him releasing, over and over again, waves of jism leaping out of him, into me, and out again each time I crest the ridge of his head.

I know for a fact that Trent hasn’t been storing it up. The spell is draining him, forcing his body produce faster than he normally does.

That’s when I remember the tattoo on his neck, the small scratch I made. He should have healed from it ages ago. Perhaps the quicksilver tendrils are preventing him from healing in the same way that being wounded with silver prevents him from healing.

Perhaps the quicksilver tendrils are making sure that Trent is susceptible to my Preserve the Lust spell.

I think it’s time to let him off my hook.

I crouch forward on my feet, but keep him inside me, bending at the knee. I brace my hands on his legs, so that Trent can watch himself disappear inside of me as I bounce up and down against his stomach, swallowing him up.

The view is enough to drive most men mad with arousal. At least, it has for decades. Trent proves to be no different.

I close my eyes and angle him inside me to push up against the roof of my sheath. I want him to rub the wall of my cavern with the ridge of his head for the pressure I crave.

It doesn’t take long before the spark ignites. It didn’t take much. After that, there’s no stopping the release I’ve been holding back. The torrent that spasms through me, powered by every muscle from my waist down.

I’m quivering with exhaustion now, but I don’t dare open my eyes. Not yet. If I open my eyes, the vision will fall on me like it always does, and I’m expect it will be overwhelming.

I’m still coming when the world does a somersault. I’m upside down, but I don’t know how I got there, until I realize his hands are around me. Trent grabbed me through the middle and lifted me up and backward in an arc.

I’m expecting a collision at the end, but then I stop, suspended in the air. I keep my eyes closed, despite every impulse I have to open them. My curiosity is getting the better of me.

I can tell that I’m no longer facing the floor. Trent grabbed me from behind and lifted me back. He’s lying beneath me now, holding me above his body, but still inside me, bench-pressing my entire weight as if it were insignificant to him.

Then he starts driving into me like a jackrabbit.

I don’t know where his energy is coming from now. He should be exhausted after all the lust I’ve drained from him. He should be, but he’s not.

My orgasm was about to end, but he just restarted it. Trent stretched the moment in one continuous moaning note. I’m coming all over again, uncontrollably now.

This isn’t my own spark-induced orgasm anymore. It’s all Trent, mastering my body, taking ownership of me.

How can he already know me so well?

I can only assume he realized that I cast a spell on myself to withstand his unrestrained physicality. He knows I’m a witch, after all. At least, I think that’s why Trent isn’t holding back anymore. His hips collide with me with abandon now.

The red-eyed wolf is having his way with me for his own sake now. It might selfish in his mind, but I’m connected to his arousal as well, the throbbing between my nethers. Connected to him and yet disembodied at the same time.

That’s when the second stage of my orgasm tears through me. It’s like every pore in my body opens all at once, as if taking a deep breath before diving under the water again. I couldn’t keep my eyes closed now if my life depended on it.

Which is precisely when the vision hits me like a comet falling.

The ceiling above me melts away, revealing a tapestry of stars where my brownstone should be. I’m floating in space, drifting among the celestial tapestry that never stops spinning, a spectator among stars.

Stars. Trent actually made me see stars.

That’s something Mason wanted to do for me once.

As visions go, this one transports me higher than I’ve ever gone above the world. My perspective rolls gently, turning around to look down at the planet beneath me.

It’s unreal, but I’m completely at ease. Relaxed physically, but alert and watchful.

My vision telescopes to a place I’ve never gone before. A range of coastal mountains. Isolated and cut off from civilization.

The perspective slows after the initial fall. That’s when my vision starts to descend at a more controlled speed. I’m sneaking up on a mountain peak. A tall spire. The top of the peak, however, is bowled. A hidden valley.

My vision keeps moving, down into the valley, past tall trees and through branches that surround me. There’s a light wind that causes the pine trees to sway and crack. Then stillness. It’s so beautiful here, an inaccessible paradise.

There’s something else about this place. I can feel it on my skin, like a feather lightly passed over flesh. This is a place of magic, but something else. Something mutable. A place of change. The vision is trying to show me what I can’t see.

The perspective floats toward a small body of clear alpine water, the lowest point in the valley. The surface of the pool is like glass. There’s no natural reason for it to be here. No glacier. No river feeding it.

The vision moves toward the pool and above the water. That’s when I see myself for the first time, reflected in the pool. No, not my reflection. It’s me, but I’m beneath the water.