Page 107 of A Witch in Notting Hill

I slipped two fingers inside, kissing her throat when she dropped her head back on a sharp inhale. When I settled into a slow pattern, feeling her pulse around me, she grabbed my wrist and whispered “More” into my ear.

As soon as I added a third finger, she sank her teeth into my shoulder, grinding against me. I wrapped my arm around her lower back, pulling her closer, cupping her clit with the palm of my hand to give her more of what she was looking for. More friction. More pressure. More of us.

“Please,” she breathed, ragged and shaky. She didn’t have to say any more. I curled my fingers toward me, pressing against her walls in the rhythm of her hips, holding on to every ounce of restraint I had as she came apart around me.

“Take me to bed,” she mumbled when she came back down to earth. “I want all of you.”

Lying on my bed, naked, with her auburn waves around her head in a halo, she was an angel. Otherworldly. I’d never before had a reason to use the wordethereal, but there was a first for everything, I supposed.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, sitting up on her elbows, giving me an even better view of her face.

“I’ve just discovered magic exists, Willow. Give me a minute.”

Steadying my breathing was even harder when she was smiling at me. But this wasn’t about me. This was about her. Pleasuring her. Worshipping her. Giving her everything she wanted.

“Come here,” she whispered after a minute. “Let me feel you.”

I rested my hands on either side of her head, inhaling through my teeth when she put her hands on my chest. Holding my breath when she slid them down my stomach and wrapped them around me.

“Sit back,” she said, and I nearly turned to dust just at the thought of where this was going. I leaned back on my hands, watching intently as she took me in her mouth.

“Fuck, Willow.”

She hummed around me, getting into a rhythm that already had me dangerously close to the edge. I wrapped my left hand around her hair, holding it off her face and winding it around my wrist. She whimpered, and I had to pull her away before it was too late.

“I need to be inside of you,” I said. “I need to be in control.”

“I’m all yours,” she said. How I wished that were true.

I flipped her over onto her hands and knees, pressing a line of kisses down her spine as I rolled on a condom then worked herwith my fingers. She was nearly dripping by the time I pushed into her, both of us letting out a groan that was entirely unholy.

“God,” she exhaled. “Oliver.”

I let my hands roam over her breasts, the curve of her waist, her arse as it pushed back against me. She felt so good I was seeing stars. I reached around to feel the soft skin of her stomach, holding her tighter against me when she sat up and dropped her head to my shoulder.

When she reached back and wrapped her hand around my neck, lacing her fingers tightly through my hair, I lowered my hand to touch her, whispering praise into her ear over the sound of her moans.

She fit perfectly against me, and as we moved in a steady rhythm, her nails on my scalp, my fingers against her clit, my cock inside her, I nearly went blind.

“Oliver, I’m going to—”

She didn’t even finish the sentence before her words turned to screams, dragging me into her orbit. I was only a second behind, one arm tightly around her, the other hand still against her clit, letting her pleasure drive mine. It was the hardest I’ve ever come in my entire life. And I already wanted to do it again.

When we finally collapsed side by side on the bed, the duvet twisted in a heap at the bottom, I watched the rise and fall of her chest as her breathing returned to normal, wondering when mine would do the same.

I had an arm draped over her stomach, partly because I couldn’t resist touching her and partly because my limbs were all too heavy to move.

She rolled over under the weight of it, pinning me with her golden-brown eyes. “You’re going to have to let me go eventually,” she said, and laughed.

The problem was, I didn’t think I could.

Chapter 35

Willow

The sun slanted through Oliver’s curtains, throwing a bar of light across his bare chest and casting the rest of him in shadow. He looked like a sculpture. An ancient god.

“I can feel you staring,” he said, a slow smile spreading across his face before he even opened his eyes.