Page 64 of A Moth to the Flame (Utopia #1)

Chapter

Forty-Three

CORDELIA

I’ve never woken up with a man’s face between my legs before. I thread my fingers through his short hair and arch my back.

Duke chuckles from the cradle of my thighs. “Good morning, Gingersnap.”

“Don’t stop,” I moan.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispers before sucking my clit so hard that stars burst behind my eyes.

When he thrusts two thick fingers inside me, I’m a goner.

Pulsing waves of pleasure emanate from my core to the tips of my fingers and toes.

I should probably be embarrassed that I’m so quick on the draw, but I’m too relaxed to care all that much.

Duke doesn’t seem upset that it didn’t take me an hour to go off like a bottle rocket. I feel him smile against my hypersensitive skin, and then he eases his fingers out of me and oh-so-gently licks me clean.

“That was…” I have no words for what that was.

“That was the way you deserve to be woken up every morning,” he murmurs against my thigh. He places a decadent trail of kisses along my warm skin before rolling out of the bed.

I watch in a post-orgasm haze as he bends down to retrieve his jeans from the floor. The muscles of his broad back shift as he pulls his pants up around his trim waist. I’m sorry to see his tight ass hidden from view again.

“You don’t want anything?” I ask as he heads toward the door.

“Right now, I want coffee.” He sighs without facing me. “After last night, I want lots of coffee. A whole pot of coffee. I want to taste it on my own tongue again, and thank Christ that I can. I’ll make you a cup, too.”

I snicker as he closes the door behind him. Duke being a coffee connoisseur is stupidly cute. The smile slides off my face as I stare up at the ceiling. Last night was the opposite of stupidly cute.

Last night was the most erotic experience of my life.

Every good witch should get a fae mate.

How much would he freak out if I admit that I’m champing at the bit to know what his feral form can do?

I laugh at myself. Claws, fangs, a monster cock, and a witch probably won’t mix well, even with a little magic.

I close my eyes and vow to hold onto that fantasy to get me through what’s to come. I’m going to need some serious imagination in the coming months. I’m not kidding myself enough to believe I can accomplish much in days or even weeks. If this turns into a yearslong endeavor, well…

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, Cordelia,” I mumble. “One thing at a time.”

But first, coffee.

After a pit stop in the bathroom to clean up and take care of business, I tiptoe down the hallway, half expecting to discover that the past month of my life has all been some wild dream. I glance down at my hands just to be sure they’re mine, and not…his.

I round the corner to find him moseying about the kitchen like he belongs here. Like he always has been. Like this man is shirtless and barefoot in my presence all the time .

It’s a gorgeous sight to behold. All that bare, muscled skin on display. The quiet domesticity of it all.

That hazy afterglow fades when Duke chugs an entire cup of coffee like he doesn’t even notice how hot it is. He slams the mug down like it’s a shot glass then pours himself an immediate refill.

That snaps me out of my mental happy place pretty effectively.

Today isn’t going to be hard for only me.

“Is this some sort of mental preparation ritual that I’m witnessing?”

He whirls to face me, offering me a smile and my own mug of coffee.

He frowns. “I don’t know how you take your coffee. I had to guess.”

“Really?” I take a sip that’s actually the perfect balance of coffee and creamer. “I ask if you’re hyping yourself up for today, and you’re worried about how I take my coffee?”

He furrows his brow. “What if I’m a shit mate? This is a one-way street, and?—"

I slap my palm over his mouth. I’m anxious enough without him piling it on. “You got the coffee exactly right, Duke. I’m not sure a shit mate could give me as many orgasms as you did last night.”

He peels my hand away to frown at me. “Oh, come on. That doesn’t count since it was self-serving.”

I roll my eyes. “Do you feel like you got enough?”

He rolls his head around on his neck then stretches one arm across his chest followed by the other. “I’m still pretty sore, but at least I can move. Were you this sore after you shifted back?”

“No.” I set my mug down and crowd his bare-chested self against the counter, checking him over for injuries.

“But I also didn’t use any power while I was in feral form, and I didn’t shred your wings to ribbons on creek rocks.

You have to take better care of yourself,” I murmur as I lift one of his heavy-ass arms, then the other to inspect them.

I crouch down to examine the soles of his feet, but the worst damage I find on any visible part of him is the same standard scrapes and bruises that I bear from a naked hike through a rocky creek bed in the middle of the night .

When I rise again, he’s wearing that soft smile that I’m starting to associate with him.

The slight crinkles at the corners of his gentle eyes, the subtle lift at the left side of his mouth, his slightly parted, relaxed lips.

All of that replaces the hard stares and sneers that I was used to seeing on his face whenever he looked at me.

He tucks a strand of loose hair behind my ear. “What did you expect to find?”

“I don’t know. Turn around and let me see your back.” I twirl my finger in a gesture for him to follow orders.

He does to the tune of laughter. “The wings are wherever they go when I’m not using them. My back is fine.”

I sigh when he faces me again. “I feel like we should head to the library or the pocket realm to check your wings, but…”

“But I might not be able to shift back to this form again, since I have no idea how I did last night,” he finishes for me. “We don’t want them to have that information.”

“Right. And we don’t know how much time we have until they come for me.”

He wraps his arms around me and pulls me against his chest. His spread legs cradle my thighs. “Are you ready?”

“A plan’s a plan, right? All I have to do is stick to it.” I slide my palms against his sculpted pecs and marvel at the fact that I’m touching him this way. No murderous intention involved.

I would never have dreamed of this a month ago. His beautiful body beneath his clothes, his loving heart, his giving nature, his bravery in the face of untold terrors.

The rumors about Granny being the Witch of the Appalachians were just that—small town rumors. Meaningless gossip, just like the ones about Miss Nell Duncan, the seer.

“So, we know at least a few members of the coven—Neveah, Hope, presumably their mothers and grandmothers. Miss Nell. I’d bet money on Miss Ada, too.

From what I read in the past, there are only supposed to be thirteen witches in a coven, but that information might be wrong.

There are at least two fae in town, Wallace and his secret brother.

They’re all bound to the well somehow. They can’t leave, but other magical creatures can enter the town.

The selkie fortune teller is proof of that.

We still don’t know who the other familiars are, or what they are?—”

“Hey.” He curls his fingers beneath my chin then lifts my gaze to his.

His eyes rove over my face like he’s looking for something.

“You don’t have to go through with this.

It’s a big risk. We can find another way.

Hell, we’ll just stash you in our pocket realm, and they’re welcome to try to torture access out of me.

You have all the information you need there.

I can sneak you down to the library whenever the coast is clear. ”

“There is no other way.” I shake my head then press my cheek to his warm skin. “If I don’t go back to my job, to my life in Charleston, they’ll know something’s wrong.”

He rests his chin on top of my head and holds me tighter. “I’ll hold on as hard as I can for the both of us.”

I rock my head against his chest, basking in these moments that may be short lived. All I can do now is hope for the best and prepare for the worst.

“Everything okay in here?”

I whirl on the voice at my back. Before I can see who’s standing there, Duke moves faster than lightning to shove me behind him.

“Jesus, Neveah,” he grinds out. “Do you have a death wish?”

I lean around the man who’s protecting me because he has no choice in the matter. That’s just what mates do.

Neveah leans against the kitchen doorway, picking at her nails. “Maybe I just want to see how far I can push you.”

“We called out when we came in,” Hope offers from a few steps behind her. “We’ve been standing here for a while. You must not have noticed.”

“Things were getting pretty intense,” Neveah observes aloud. “Figured we’d interrupt and spare ourselves unwanted PDA. You’re welcome.”

No one says anything, but the tension in the room is palpable.

Just as the silence grows unbearable, Neveah clears her throat. “We’ve come to whisk Delia away for an afternoon of pampering at Savina’s Salon.”

“Oh, no. Thank you, but no.” I sidestep Duke and wave my hands in the air like I can ward off what they’ve likely been ordered to do.

Like I just need to be sure that the time has come, I throw up one last pathetically hopeful roadblock.

“I can’t really afford something so frivolous right now.

I’ve been on unpaid leave for a month, and my savings are gone after paying for Granny’s funeral and burial. ”

“Don’t worry about the cost,” Neveah says without a drop of sarcasm. “Savina owes me a favor, and I’m calling it in today.”

“You’ve been through a lot the past month,” Hope murmurs with a gentle smile. “We just want to help you feel refreshed now that it’s all behind you.”

So that’s it, then.

Time is up.

I glance over my shoulder. Duke looks ready to pounce should I give the word, his intent focus trained solely on me.

I might not have ironed out every angle to the plan, but that’s okay. Most of it hinges on him, and I have more faith in this man—in this fae—than I ever possibly imagined.