Page 35 of The Blood Witch
“Why are you here?” I press, just as quietly, unsure of what I want him to say.
I should tell him to leave. Tell him that he can’t come barging in here like this. I need to make it clear that it doesn’t matter what he wants, he ruined things, and now he has to deal with the consequences of those actions. But the issue with all of that is I’m not thinking about him right now.
I mean, I’m definitely thinking about him and what I’d like to do and have done to me. But it’s not about him. It’s not about giving into the desire I see in the depths of his eyes right now. It’s about giving intomydesire. It’s what’s kept me up tonight, caused me to toss and turn with thoughts of my lips on his. My hands exploring that body, taking what I need from him like he’s taken from me.
The problem though is that I know it won’t stop there, at least not for me. As much as I love the idea of a solid night of revenge-fucking Rogan right out of my head, I can’t do that whenhe’sthe one I want to fuck. He’s burrowed into my soul despite my efforts to keep him out, and I don’t know how to combat that.
I can pretend that I’m capable of a no-strings-attached situation that allows both of us to let off some steam, but the truth is I’m not capable of doing that with him. I know that I can’t be safeandvulnerable in the same space when it comes to him, and I need both of those things in my life to be whole.
So where does that leave me?
I stare up into Rogan’s sweltering gaze, my eyes slowly dipping down his face and pausing on his full lips. It means that from here on out, whatever hurt or disloyalty he sends my way, it’s on me. I’ll have no one to blame but myself. I know what he’s capable of, what he’s done. He’s told me himself that if push comes to shove, I won’t be the one he’s saving, that I’m not the one he’ll choose. But here I am anyway, silently begging for him to close the distance between our mouths.
This has risk and danger written all over it in bright flashing neon letters, but I don’t care. There’s no going back for me now.
“Rogan,” I start, his name half plea, half chastisement, as my eyes lift back up to his. But I don’t get to utter another word, to tell him that just this once, I’ll choose vulnerability over safety, that I’ll choose him. Because suddenly his mouth is on mine, and I’m lost in him.
He cups my face, tilting my head back and pressing in against me. Our kiss is feverish and hungry, desperate and unapologetic. I moan into his mouth when his tongue teases mine, and he rolls his hips against me, igniting every nerve inside of me. It’s so right it’s fucked up. Someone destined to hurt you shouldn’t feel so good, but he does, and all I want ismore.
“Lennox,” he whispers against my lips as he pulls away and takes me in.
“No,” I whisper back, dropping my hands to the hem of his shirt and lifting it up his chest. “Unless you’re telling me how you like it, asking how I like it, or moaning how amazing I am, I don’t want to hear it,” I tell him, and he lifts his shirt up and over his head.
“Lennox…” He tries again.
I pull my own loose tank top off. “No,” I declare more adamantly, my naked breasts doing more to shut him up than my objections. “I’ve made up my mind, I want at least five orgasms, and I heard you loud and clear, Elon wins no matter what, I got it,” I tell him, grabbing his hand and lifting it to my boob.
I hide my worry behind a breathy, nervous laugh, begging in my mind for him to shut up and give me this, let me take what I want from him. Just for tonight. I don’t know why it feels so pressing, like a looming need to kick the wedge out from between us and see what we could be if we both just let our guard down. Maybe it’s guilt for what happened in the hallway earlier, or maybe this is just me taking back some of the choice and power he stole from me, but I don’t want to question it. I’ve spent too much time in my head since I woke up here, and all I want to do is not think, not overanalyze. I just want to feel.
His eyes flit back and forth between mine. “Five orgasms?” he teases, pinching my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
Delicious sensations zing from my breast straight down to my clit, and I moan softly. “Yep,” I answer breathily. “You have some solid fucking to do to make up for all the fucking-over that’s been going down.”
He chuckles and it morphs into a hiss when I reach down and palm his length through his pajama pants. His lips are on mine in less time than it takes to say,speaking of going down, and it’s the kind of kiss that takes no prisoners and leaves no panties dry. He grabs my ass with both hands and lifts me so I can wrap my legs around his waist. He sucks on my bottom lip as my center aligns perfectly with his cock, and he rolls his hips, pressing his hardness against me in just the right way, and it makes me pant.
My hard nipples tease the planes of his chest, and his skin is warm against mine. I grind against him, deepening the kiss and threading my fingers through his hair. He moans into my mouth as I work my hips against his, and I drink down his pleasure like the heady elixir it is. Heat builds between us as our mouths and tongues and bodies come together, more untamed and frenetic with each passing second.
“Pinch me,” I demand, pulling away and kissing the spot just below his ear.
“What?” he asks huskily, tilting his head so I can have better access to the side of his throat.
“Pinch me,” I repeat. “I need to know that I’m awake.”
Rogan doesn’t argue, and he also doesn’t pinch me. Instead, he pushes me back against the wall and nips hard at my neck. The pleasure and pain that shoots through me at the contact has me writhing against him, and I swear if he’s not underneath me and then inside of me in the next minute, I’m going to spontaneously combust.
I try to push off from the wall, which only serves to send us bumping into the dresser. It teeters and something falls off of it with a loud thunk. Rogan and I both go still, waiting to see if anyone will come check on what the noise was. I hold my breath, listening intently, and then letting air out slowly when it seems like the coast is clear.
I unwrap myself from Rogan and slide sensually down his body. “Pants off and you on the bed, now,” I order, and he chuckles quietly, the deep rumble of his laugh doing all kinds of naughty and welcome things to my body.
“Bossy, bossy,” he teases, tilting my head back and planting a languid, thorough kiss on my lips before backing away from me with a salacious smile.
He starts to untie the drawstring of his pants, and I look down to see what fell off the dresser really quick so I don’t trip over it and break something on my way to break in Rogan’s cock.
A small, perfectly intact bird skull is lying next to my abandoned tank top on the floor. I’m surprised I’ve never noticed the perfectly white bones and beak before, and I lean down and pluck it and my shirt from the ground. I smile at what I think is an owl skull, but I’ll have to geek out over it later; I have a gorgeous witch in my bed that needs riding.
I look up, intent on setting my shirt and the owl skull on the dresser, when everything suddenly goes wrong. Rogan’s eyes are banked with heat as he tucks his thumbs in the waist of his pants and pushes them down. But I can’t focus on him because it feels like someone just pulled a hook through my stomach and now they’re yanking on it...hard. The room around me morphs, like I’m in some fucked up hall of mirrors making everything wider and longer than it should be.
Fear wells in my chest, and Rogan’s eyes grow confused as he takes me in. I open my mouth to warn him, but out of nowhere, I’m sucked back violently like the wall is a drain and I’m being dragged through it by some invisible force. Rogan’s face contorts with dread, and I hear him bellow my name before suddenly he’s just...gone.
