Page 46 of Witchy Woman

“Confident. Sexy. A woman who knows her worth.”

“Oh my God, will you stop talking and just touch me already?” I demand.

“I am touching you.” His smile is downright devious. “Tell me what you want, and you can have it.”

“If you’re going to make me do everything, then I can just go home to my vibrator and do it myself.”

He captures my nipple between thumb and forefinger, teasing the taut bud. “Next time, I’ll tie you down and use your vibrator to make you cum until you sob.”

Wetness pools between my thighs so quickly little goosebumps prickle all over my skin. “Promises, promises.”

He trails kisses down my body, nibbling just a moment on my belly button before meeting the top of my red lace underwear.He pulls them off slowly, dragging lingering kisses down my legs until my mind is a warm puddle. Until all I can think about is the next touch, the next kiss, the pleasure building.

“You smell so goddamn good. Every time I’m around you, I smell melted marshmallows and brown sugar. I can’t wait to see if you taste the same.”

Before I can form some sort of reply, his mouth is on me. He’s no longer gentle and slow. No.

His tongue dives for my clit, sucking it into his mouth and flicking at it so quickly I can barely breathe.

His groan of pleasure vibrates through my body like an electric shock.

“Tastes like fucking heaven,” he growls. A finger enters my body, curling just right to hit that spot inside of me that wrenches a gasp from the depths of my soul.

“Cum for me. Take what you need and give this to me.”

Despite it only being a few minutes—seconds, maybe—I can feel an orgasm creeping up. The way my body responds to him is otherworldly.

“Laura,” he growls. “Laura, my goddess.”

My name is what tips me over, what causes waves of white-hot pleasure to roll through my body until I’m an overstimulated mess.

He slowly withdraws, biting my thighs just roughly enough to leave marks for a few hours.

“Tell me when you’re ready for more.”

Chapter 22

Home

It takes what feels like years for my mind to clear the smoky fog of orgasm. I’ve never experienced something that powerful before.

Or that quick. I don’t think I lasted more than a fucking minute.

My hands unclench from the bedspread below me and slide onto his chest and into his hair. His semi-short dark hair that’s softer than angel wings.

Orgasms make me mushy.

Hemakes me mushy.

Ash is triumphant. His eyes glitter like melted forests and pride emanates from his skin.

“Do you need to go wipe your face?” I ask, finally getting my voice back. I won’t be surprised if I’m hoarse for a few days if the night continues like this.

His beard is almost dripping with the evidence of how much he made me feel. “Why the fuck would I ever do that? I earned this.”

“Whatever floats your boat, bruh.”

“Do not call me ‘bruh’ in bed, woman.” He narrows his eyes. “Matter of fact, don’t ever call me ‘bruh.’”