mythean arcana 07 - witchs fate (14 page)

He licked her slick flesh again, seeking the exotic flavor. Her scent made his head spin. Bloody hell, he’d dreamed of this. He wanted to fuck her, to feel her clench around him, but he wanted this just as much. To learn every inch of her—what made her moan, what made her writhe, what made her come.

He couldn’t believe he’d lived without this for so long. That he’d let other men taste her like this, know her like this.

Though her pussy was wet and her desire scented the air, she was tense against his mouth. It wouldn’t do. He wanted her to like this as much as he did, even if he’d been a bastard about getting his way.

He ran his palms up her thighs, marveling at the smoothness of her skin. His thumbs parted her flesh and he leaned back slightly, gazing at the lovely pinkness of her.

She was slick and soft and so small he was terrified he’d hurt her. If he ever got to sink his shaft into her, he’d spend ages preparing her. He’d make her come until she was begging for his cock.

The thought made his shaft grow unbearably harder.

Sofia jerked in his hands as if she didn’t like him looking at her, but he tightened his grip, entranced by the way his big fingers pressed into her lush flesh.

“Shh,” he murmured, then pressed his mouth against her pussy, running his tongue through her folds and exploring every inch of her.

When he found her clit, she jumped. Gods, he’d never get enough of this. He licked, slowly and leisurely—getting to know her. Her moans drifted through the room, making his cock throb. He wanted more of her moans. Louder. More desperate.

Malcolm began to lick more quickly, focusing on the bundle of nerves until she pressed her hips against his face in a steady rhythm. He groaned against her, loving her greediness. 

“Malcolm!” she gasped when he sucked on her clit. Her muscles tensed.

She was close. 

He pulled back, swiping his tongue against the expanse of her pussy.

“I was—” she cut off her complaint, as if she didn’t want to reveal the weakness.

Too late.

He wanted her to come so hard she lost her mind. There’d been men before him, he was sure. She was over four hundred years old. Of course there had been. But he’d erase them. The best way to do that was to hold off her orgasm until she was desperate.

And if he were honest with himself, he wanted to drown in her taste forever.

She was shaking with need by the time he thrust his tongue into her channel. Her taste was strongest here and he lapped it up, unable to stop his hips from thrusting at the air. He gripped her soft ass, learning her curves.

Gods, how he wished it were his cock plunging deep. He wanted her taste on his tongue while her tight little pussy gripped his shaft. He’d plow into her until she screamed, until she begged him to fuck her harder.

He dragged his tongue free and returned to her clit. He waited until she was fucking his face again, her cries growing more desperate, then he dragged his tongue up, savoring the slickness of her soft flesh. 

“I want you to come on my face, Sofia,” he growled against her. “I want to feel your wetness slide down my chin and know that I did that to you. I want to taste you and feel you and own you.”

She moaned and he wished he could see her face. He returned to her clit, laving as he moved one hand to her entrance. Though he’d thought to thrust his fingers into her while sucking her clit, he realized that he had to see some part of him enter her.

He pulled his face back to look. His fingers were so big and rough compared to the smooth slickness of her pussy. His cock throbbed and his breath caught in his throat as he watch two wide fingers press against her, forcing her flesh to give way and disappearing into her channel. The firelight shone golden on her skin, highlighting the deep pink of her labia as his fingers sank deeper.

Her groan came long and loud as her tender flesh adjusted to the invasion. He feared he was too big, that he’d been greedy and started with too many, but she pressed back against him, begging for more. She wouldn’t beg with words, but her body would.

Slowly, he thrust his fingers deep, groaning at the feeling of her closing tight around him.

“Malcolm, Malcolm.” Her words were senseless, as if she weren’t entirely there.

“You’re so damned hot. Wet. Perfect,” he said as he began to thrust his fingers. 

He placed his thumb on her clit and began to rub in tight circles, concentrating on making her come. He was desperate to see her that way.

She keened high in her throat and began to grind her hips into his hand, trying to get him deeper.

Insatiable. It made his cock throb painfully and fantasies roll through his head. He pressed his fingertips down, rubbing hard against the pad of nerves inside of her. 

She stiffened and her legs began to tremble. A cry wrenched from her throat and her interior muscles began to clasp on his fingers.

“Fuck, I can see you clenching.” The words tore from his throat. It was the hottest thing he’d ever seen, watching her pussy react to the pleasure he gave her. Desperate to taste her again, he moved his thumb and pressed his mouth against her clit, laving and sucking.

She tried to jerk away, as if she were too sensitive, but there was nowhere for her to go. She whimpered, but after a second pressed back against him for more.

When her pussy began clenching again, squeezing him for her pleasure, he couldn’t take it anymore. The taste, the feel. The knowledge that it was Sofia.

He couldn’t fucking take it anymore. With his free hand, he tore his fly open and grasped his hard cock. He groaned against her and she cried out.

 His cock was so hard it hurt. All he could imagine was her heat, her tightness, wrapped around his shaft. He began to stroke, roughly because he’d used all his control on her, on moving his fingers in a way that would get her off.

Gods, how he wanted to pull his fingers free of her sweet heat and rise to his feet. He jerked his cock and licked her clit as the fantasy rolled through him.

He would grasp her full hips in his hands, pressing his fingers into her golden skin. She might try to get away at first, to fight him. But he’d hold her hips tight and calm her fears. He’s smooth a hand down her back, rub her sensitive little clit, until she was begging for it.

Then he’d fit the head of his cock to her tight entrance and push, watching her pussy give way and close around him.  He’d grip one of her slender shoulders to keep her in place as he drove his thick cock into her pussy. He could imagine her pinkness enveloping his dusky shaft, the way she’d shudder and moan as she accepted him. 

If she asked him to go slowly, to give her time to adjust, he’d manage. Somehow. He’d sooth her and take his time, but once she was desperate for it, once she wanted it hard, he’d give it to her. He’d grip her shoulder and her hip and fuck her until her hot little pussy clenched around him and she moved her hips backward, trying to get more of his cock.

Malcolm groaned against her pussy, thrusting his fingers inside her as he imagined her coming around his cock. He’d give her anything she bloody wanted.

“Malcolm!” She was coming again, harder than ever, her cunt gripping him tightly.

He began to fuck his fist, clenching it as tightly as he thought her pussy would, imagining that he was thrusting into her. Making her writhe on his cock and soak him with her juices.

Malcolm roared against her pussy as the orgasm slammed into him. It tore through his entire body, pleasure so intense he felt like he might explode. He shuddered and shook as his cock jerked in his hand, pumping seed onto the floor.

Her muscles still clenched his fingers as his orgasm faded. When her cries and the movement of her hips stopped, he gently pulled his fingers free and gave her pussy one last lick, savoring her taste.

His breath heaved in and out of his lungs as he watched her back rise and fall with her heaving breaths. Her pussy gleamed pink and tender. Gods, he hoped he hadn’t been too rough.

He’d die before he hurt her that way. He’d die before he let anything bad happen to her. But it wouldn’t. He’d see to it. He’d protect her.

His spend gleamed white on the floor. A possessive part of him wished that it coated her slick flesh, a brand of possession that marked her as his.

His chest tightened.

Shit. This was dangerous. He could actually feel the soft thoughts forming. He’d loved her once. 

He couldn’t let that happen again. Love was a vow, even if unspoken.

A warlock couldn’t afford vows.

Fate would always break them.

He stumbled to his knees, yanking his trousers up. He waved his hand at the floor and a bit of magic removed his spend. 

Sofia lay on the desk, her muscles lax as she caught her breath. So beautiful it made him clench his fists. 

Fuck, if this wasn’t going to be harder than he thought. With a last glance at her, he left the room.

CHAPTER NINE

The door slammed, startling Sofia out of her daze. She glanced up.

Malcolm was gone.

Quivery pleasure that had weakened her muscles turned to rage. He’d
left
her? She scrambled up and tugged on her clothes, fumbling with her shirt and trousers.

He’d just…
walked out.

Tears pricked her eyes. She blinked them away, trying to focus on the anger. This was the second time she’d ended up on his desk, coming to her senses and realizing that he didn’t give a shit about her. He might spend his time making her come, but then he discarded her.

How dare he?

Rage seethed in her chest, a black tar that threatened to boil over and choke her. She stormed out of the room and down the hall, then took the stairs two at a time. At the top, she glanced left and then right, toward the doors at the end. Because fates knew, he’d be at the end of the freaking hall.

The door at the end of the left hall was cracked slightly, so she went that way. When she reached it, she shoved the heavy wood open so hard it slammed against the wall.

Malcolm spun away from the window to face her. He stood in the middle of a richly appointed round room. Another tower, like his library. All dark, gleaming wood and elegant furnishings. 

“What are you—”

She drew her wand and threw a blast of lightning at him. He threw up a hand and blocked it.

“You bastard!” she screamed, then threw another bolt. This one made him stumble back. “You treat me like a fucking sex toy and then toss me away and I’m sick of it!”

Surprise flashed in his golden gaze. “What? I don’t—”

“Yes. You. Do. Twice now! And four hundred years ago I was obviously nothing to you. Just like I’m nothing now. Just a thing for you to play with. You risked my life and everything that I hold dear just so you can play with me!” Hot tears burned her eyes and she hated it. She threw a blast of frozen air at him, hoping it would freeze his heart like he’d frozen hers. The tears tumbled free.

Something like pain flashed in his eyes and he was in front of her a second later. He grabbed her arms and pulled her toward him.

She thrashed, trying to break free. “Let go of me, you bastard! I hate you!”

“Don’t say that.” His voice was rough with pain, his gaze rife with it.

She stilled momentarily, shocked.

“What is your problem?” she whispered brokenly. “Why, after all these years, are you doing this to me?”

He shuddered. “Because these last centuries without you have been hell. You’re the sun of my life. I didn’t realize what I was giving up when I became a warlock. You were the brightest and best thing to ever happen to me and I couldn’t spend another day without you.”

Shock made her breath catch. He’d been such a bastard to her. “But you threw me away.”

“I had to.”

“Fuck you.” She struggled to break free again, but he was too strong.

“Look at me.” His voice was harsh, desperate.

She didn’t want to, but she did. And fates, he was handsome. Not in a movie-star way—though gods knew he could pass for one—but in a familiar way. The kind of handsome that happens when you’ve loved someone for years and have memorized all their features until they become vital to you. The kind of handsome that really mattered. It was a view that tore a gaping hole in her heart. 

“You threw me away.” She wanted to crumble into his arms—for him to make it better even though she knew he never could. He’d broken them. Broken them and thrown them away and there was no coming back from that.

But he pulled her into his embrace and hugged her close. His heat and strength enveloped all of her, knitting together some of her broken parts even though she’d thought he couldn’t do that.

“I made a mistake.” His agonized whisper sounded against her hair. “I made a mistake. I realized that soon after.”

“Why wait till now to come for me?”

“I fought it. Until I saw my brother with his new mate and realized what a great, gaping hole there was in my life. I thought I had everything a Mythean could want. Power, wealth. But I made a mistake. I’m so sorry, Sofia.”

She sobbed against his chest. He was saying everything she wanted to hear, but too late. “What good does that do us now?”