Bedspell. Jule McBride
grasped her backside and pulled her closer still, right to his hard, waiting heat. “I want inside,” he whispered, his voice strained, completely foreign-sounding to his ears.
Her heart was hammering against his chest. The thought came from nowhere: one love, one heart. She said, “Me, too.”
Melting, he skated the never-ending kiss downward, from her mouth, to her cheeks, to her neck, and then he shifted his weight, rolling her to her side, so his itching palm could mold her breast.
“Ah,” he murmured simply, caressing the silken slope of the underside, then lifting her from beneath and angling down his head to better suckle. After pressing the liquid, searing heat of his mouth to her straining nipple, he used the tip of his tongue to flick it to the bud, then he circled it until her seeking hips were arching; she was silently begging now, for what she’d come here to get.
“Are you sure I’m not dreaming?” he managed to whisper, gliding an open hand down the most succulent body he’d ever felt twining around his own. Wanting to touch each inch of her, he fantasized using his mouth and fingers to make her writhe. “I want to see you wild,” he murmured.
“Wild?”
“Yeah.” The crazy woman had taken the risk to come in here wet and naked, and now that she’d lit his fire, he intended to make it well worth her while. He definitely didn’t want her to walk away, feeling sorry for her nocturnal visit. Sliding a hand between her legs, he felt his body boil as his fingers dipped into her warm, running honey. She was so ready that he drew in a sharp, satisfied breath…and then he began to probe.
“No—” She exhaled the word, making his blood dance. He stopped immediately, and she giggled. “I meant yes, gorgeous.”
“You’re sure you’re real?” He was almost beginning to doubt it. No woman had ever made him feel so good. And while the blonde had looked promising, this was more than he’d hoped for. Her every touch was arousing so much more than sexual need. She was conjuring darker things. Like the need to possess. To frustrate and toy with her until she was begging him for satisfaction only he could give.
“I’m real,” she said.
“Who are you?”
“You know who I am, gorgeous.”
He did. At least he recalled her asking directions. But he wanted more now. Her name. Her address. Her phone number. The promise that he wouldn’t wake to find her gone.
Before he could say so, her hand reached down, sending him crashing into shuddering oblivion as slender fingers curled around his length. She grasped him firmly. Stroked. He nearly screamed. Vaguely, he wondered if she’d said something. He wasn’t sure. The friction of her hand, the way she was rising to meet the ministrations of his own touch, was more than he could bear. Each ridge was pleasured, her nails skimming over flesh until the whole world narrowed focus. There was only her and him. Alone in the middle of the woods on a dark night drenched in moonlight. There was no sound save soft pants as they climbed.
He pulled her back on top of him. Swallowing hard, since his throat was raw, he whispered, “I’m glad you’re here.”
“I cast a spell on you, gorgeous,” she admitted.
“You really think I’m gorgeous?”
“Of course you are,” she murmured.
“You cast a spell on me?”
“That’s why you’re in my bed.”
She was in his, but he didn’t correct her. Not when he was so flattered. None of these wiccans had ever cast a spell on him before, at least not so far as he knew. “You cast a spell because you wanted to have sex with me?”
“Yes,” she murmured, nibbling his lips and groaning as she slid her hands into his chest hairs again. Releasing a moan, he curved his hands slowly over her hips, then down shapely, sexy legs. Fire surged through him once more. Waves of heat seemed to roll through him, only to be drenched by the water still dripping from her body.
“You’ve got leaves in your hair,” he said huskily.
“Take them out.”
He did. One by one, he lifted out the dry twigs and brittle leaves that had lodged in her short, wet locks as she’d come from the lake. “You were lucky not to get caught in the brambles,” he said, even though his mind was really on the deft movements of her now rolling hips. “Whatever you threw in that cauldron,” he added, his lips capturing hers once more, as the damp curve of her belly cradled his, “it’s definitely working its charms.” Reaching, he stretched an arm toward the bedside table and pulled out the drawer.
She startled, her hands tightening on his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. He imagined them, how they’d feel moments from now, raking down the rest of his back. This was one wildcat whom he’d gladly let claw him to ribbons.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Condoms.”
“Good thinking.”
“Mere habit,” he assured. With her in the bed, any logical thought was truly eluding him. Feeling bereft with her body warmth gone from his, he readied himself, then hauled her back on top of him, simply saying, “Ride me.”
Again, that maddening giggle sounded. “Like a broomstick?”
He laughed. “You witch, you.”
Her tongue traced his lips, silencing him, sending another shock of awareness through his system. “O, ye spirits bring to me,” she whispered huskily, “a night of sexy revelry.”
So, that’s what she’d asked for. “I think we can manage that.”
Her laugh was tempered by need now. “All night?”
“There won’t be a thought in your pretty little head until dawn,” he assured her, then he added, “I’ve only got one question.”
“What?”
“Well, men and women can do an awful lot of things together,” he began. “So, which of those things do you want to do first?”
Her tone was strangely dark, lusty. “You mean, seeing as we’re going to eventually do them all?”
“Yeah.”
He heard her intake of breath. “Man’s choice.”
He urged her closer. “You on top, then. And later…” As his words trailed off, everything except the spellbinding woman vanished from James’s mind—he forgot his wildcat capture team certification and the hours he’d spend tomorrow, cleaning up after the wiccans—and he touched a thumb to his bedmate’s chin, tilting back her head and spiraling kisses down a slender neck that, beneath his tongue, had the smooth consistency of fresh cream.
As her knees bracketed his hips, she exhaled an excited rush of breath. “Later?” she urged as she positioned herself above him and slowly impaled herself, sliding downward on his shaft until he could no longer bite back another moan.
“Everything,” he promised hoarsely, seeing himself tongue-kissing every inch of her legs, then burying himself between them, tasting her while she drowned in pleasure. He saw her kneeling before him, too, tasting him with the same abandon. Maybe they’d head outside, right before sunrise, and he’d take her, hard and fast, against a tree, until both of them got so crazy with lust that they’d start howling at the moon.
After all, it was Halloween.
“Sliding down the broomstick,” she whispered. He would have laughed, but he simply couldn’t. His blood was pumping too fast, his mind racing with fantasies about the woman who kept calling him gorgeous. The tight, slick folds of her body were enveloping him, stealing away his breath. His arms swiftly circled her back. Squeezing her tightly, he hauled her even closer against him and rolled, so that he was on top of her. Unwilling to simply lie back and take the pleasure, the way he’d