Page 69
Story: Bespelled
“That’s so fucking manipulative,” I say, even as he hammers into me.
He squeezes my neck, presumably for disagreeing with him. Maybe for cursing.
I gasp reflexively, my pussy tightening around him.
“If you don’t like it, you can always come the good old-fashioned way,” he says.
I bow my head, wanting to sob because I’m so fucking turned on, and he’s so goddess-damned evil.
“You understand my needs like no other.” I gasp out the sentiment. It doesn’t sound like a lie because Memnon does, indeed, seem to know every trick of my body.
He leans in near my ear. “Whounderstands your needs?” he presses softly.
This monster.
I turn my head to meet his gaze, our faces inches apart.
“You,my husband,” I spit out.
He holds my gaze for a second longer before he remembers himself.
“Good woman,” he praises me, his lips curving into a smile. And then his magic is scouring my clit and sliding up my stomach and over my breasts, teasing my nipples as well.
My arms buckle, and Memnon releases my throat so that my upper body can collapse onto the mattress.
The sorcerer brushes my hair off the nape of my neck and presses a kiss there. Between that and the relentless rub of his magic, I shatter, arching back against him as I come and come and come.
His hips slam into me, pumping harder and faster, trying to give me everything I crave all at once.
“Fuck,” I hear him curse under his own breath, even as I feel his cock throb inside me. Then, with a roar, he comes, his own climax lengthening my own.
I press my ass against Memnon even as I place my forehead on my hands. My orgasm hasn’t even ended, but the pulsing ache from the cursed witch’s brew is back again.
I make a frustrated sound, wanting to weep. My body is tired, but it doesn’t seem to matter; it’s demanding release again.
“Memnon, I think…”I think I need more.
The sorcerer smooths a hand down my sweaty spine. “I know,est amage. I can feel it through our bond. As long as you need me, I will take care of you.”
And he does. Many, many times over.
CHAPTER 19
I knowI’ve done a bad thing before I even open my eyes.
A very, very bad thing named Memnon.
The room smells like sex, and my body is sore everywhere. My wicked soul mate lies asleep in my bed, holding me like I’m his own personal teddy bear. His leg is draped over mine, and his arm is wrapped around my chest, like in sleep he fears I might escape him.
If I could scream at drunk Selene, I would. My pussy feels swollen and bruised, and my body is sticky with sweat and come. I pinch my eyes shut, willing it all away. Especially the pretty things he said between bouts of sex. Those linger with me even now.
The man deserves my ire,notmy interest.
I turn over in his arms so I can look at him. Memnon makes a noise low in his chest and pulls me tighter against him.
“Again?” he murmurs, his eyes still closed and his voice thick with sleep.
I want the earth to swallow me up. “No,” I say hoarsely, a blush creeping up my neck.
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