Page 62 of Deadly Blooms (Psychic Unraveled #1)

I dropped to my knees in front of him, devouring every inch of him with my eyes.

That thick cock, hard and heavy. The carved V of his hips that made my brain stop functioning.

The dark trail of hair up those abs, the rise and fall of his chest. His arms—those arms —covered in black ink and made of pure power.

His square jaw dusted with stubble. His eyes—stormy, molten, locked on mine.

God, this man was too much. And I wanted every single part of him.

He smirked, cocky and unbothered, and ran his hand along my jaw, threading his fingers into my hair until he had a firm grip at the back of my head. My thighs clenched.

I wrapped one hand around his cock, slow and reverent. My other cupped his balls gently. I ran my tongue up his length, teasing his tip before taking him in, inch by inch, until he hit the back of my throat.

His growl was low and sharp. “Fuck, Maggie… that mouth— Jesus .”

He tightened his hand in my hair, steady but not pushing, just anchoring. Holding. The way his breath caught, the way his hips twitched— God, I was doing something right.

And that made me wetter than I could stand.

The hunger inside me hit a fever pitch. I needed him inside me—now.

“Come here,” he rasped.

He hooked a finger under my chin, thumb grazing my lip as he guided me until I stood in front of him, panting and shivering.

His gaze locked on mine, pupils blown wide.

“I want you,” he growled. “Ride my cock like you did that grinder.”

I kissed a trail up his thighs, deliberately skipping his over his dick, dragging my lips to his stomach. My fingers skimmed the tender, healing scar from where Custer stabbed him. I pressed the lightest kiss to the spot gently before continuing up his abs.

He watched every second, his breaths heavy as my kisses inched up.

As I rose, my breasts brushed against his hard cock, and he groaned low in his throat.

I let my lips graze his chest, nibbling one nipple, then the other.

I straddled him, wrapping one hand around the base, letting it rest against my entrance.

I rubbed the head slowly up my slit, circling my clit, teasing us both.

I could’ve come right then. But I wanted more.

Lifting slightly, I guided him inside. Inch by thick inch.

“Oh—fuck,” he groaned, voice rough and frayed. “That’s it. Right there.”

I gasped as his girth filled me— stretched me. Every nerve lit up like a fuse had been lit in my core. He felt impossibly deep. Bigger than last night. He was everywhere.

I ground down on him, taking him to the hilt, feeling everything.

“Graham—I…I’m gonna?—”

His hands clamped down on my hips, holding me still, breath ragged. “Hold on there, pretty girl,” his low, dark voice sent a shiver up my spine. “Look. At. Me.”

I did. And fuck— the way he looked at me back. Like I was the only thing that could save him—undid me.

He brushed a strand of hair from my face, his voice softer now, “Don’t you come yet, let’s do this together.”

I leaned in to kiss him, but he stopped me by grabbing both breasts in his hands, circling my nipples with his thumbs, his eyes never leaving mine.

My thighs trembled. I braced my hands on his stomach, feeling his abs flex under my palms.

And then we moved.

Together Relentless. Hungry.

He lifted my ass, thrusting up into me as I rode him, and we chased that edge—panting, shaking, gritting through it, pacing ourselves so the other could catch up, then starting again.

When it hit, it hit hard.

I broke first. I shattered.

He followed, his deep groans vibrating against my throat as he spilled inside.

And we collapsed—he pulled me close, every muscle tight, arms locked around me, as if he let go the world would start spinning again.

He was still inside me—every filthy inch of last night.

A mess I didn’t bother to clean up right away. A memory I didn’t want to.

I padded to the bathroom, the echo of our night still slick between my thighs. On the way past, I cracked the bedroom door for Chester. He darted past me, tail high, and launched straight into Graham’s arms without hesitation. No pause. No guilt. Not even a simple glance in my direction.

“Traitor,” I whispered under my breath.

But I got it. Graham’s arms were a fortress—warm, strong, and for once… mine.

All I wanted was a quick rinse before Portia’s bonfire—but the moment the water hit my shoulders, he was behind me.

No warning.

Just warm skin. Head. Hands.

He pressed in close, chest to my back, mouth finding that spot just behind my ear that made my knees give. His fingers slid over me like he already knew the map. Like he’d memorized every dip and curve in the dark.

He didn’t say anything—didn’t need to.

He bent me over. One hand on my hip. The other pressed against the wall beside my face.

He took me again, right there against the tile. Fast. Filthy. Desperate. Like he needed to fuck the memory of last night deeper into me. Like if he didn’t, we’d both come undone.

And I let him.

Slippery skin. Water pooling at our feet. The slap of flesh, the hiss of my breath, and the low growl in his throat as he came again—melted me.

But he wasn’t finished.

He lifted me, still soaked and set me on the cold porcelain sink like I weighed nothing, before dropping to his knees.

My breath caught.

And then his mouth was on me.

Tongue circling my clit with slow, reverent precision. Hands gripping my thighs like he needed me to stay right there—anchored to the edge of his world.

“Oh, God—” escaped my lips as my head fell back.

My fingers found his hair. My spine arched. My legs shook.

“Fuck—Graham—don’t stop.”

He didn’t.

He worked with the patience of a man on a mission and the hunger of someone who meant it.

When I came, it wasn’t a climax—it was a collapse. A holy thing. My body forgot where it ended and where his began.

If I didn’t have a death grip on his shoulders, I would’ve gone boneless, sliding to the floor like every nerve had been cut.

I love a man on his knees.

But I come undone for the ones who make me scream God’s name—while moaning theirs.

I slipped on my robe, leaving it open and untied—just enough incentive for round three before he left.

He probably needed food. Ruby’s voice echoed in my head— protein, darling, give the man protein.

Eggs again, but this time I’d add cottage cheese. Social media swore it boosted the protein by thirteen grams, and hell, now seemed like a good time to test it.

My robe flapped open as I headed downstairs, the morning chill pebbling my nipples just in time for a full-blown ghost jump scare.

“Shit!” I yelped, slamming to a halt.

Uncle Silas hovered by the stove like a Victorian judgment cloud.

I crossed my arms over my chest, fumbling with the belt like it was a booby trap. “Don’t do that! I forgot you were here.”

“Good morning to you as well, my dear.”

“Sorry,” I muttered. “You scared me. Where’d you go last night?”

“Well, you told everyone to leave and said you wanted to be alone. I assumed that included me. I retired to the attic.” He turned, utterly unbothered. “Please note, however, that these walls are dreadfully thin. I do hope the poor boy is still breathing.”

Oh. My. God.

My brain short-circuited. My face caught fire. If I could have melted into the hardwood floor, I would have.

Graham strolled in like he owned the place—half-dressed, boots unlaced, vest and utility belt slung over one shoulder.

“Silas, my man. What’s new in the world of the dead?”

“As I was just telling my niece here… these walls are paper thin… for future reference.”

I looked at Graham, closed my eyes and pressed my lips together. “Sorry.” I mouthed.

“Hell, fine by me. When I make a woman come, I want the world to applaud. ”

He grinned, pulled me in, and kissed my forehead like he hadn’t just said the cockiest thing I’d ever heard.

“You used my shampoo?” I raised a brow, inhaling him.

“Hope that’s okay,” he said, nuzzling close. “Now I get to smell you all day.”

“The audacity,” I deadpanned. “Didn’t realize they let fruity-smelling cops into the precinct.”

“About that… hate to fuck and run, pretty girl, but Nettles wanted me clocked out by six—and it’s now seven-forty-five. I’ll be back around five. Be ready.”

He gave a nod, I melted into the floorboards, and the front door shut behind him with a solid click.

Heat surged up my cheeks, bloomed in my chest, and curled low in my belly.

Either I was having a hot flash—or he’d just taken my breath away.

Pretty girl?

I turned to Uncle Silas, who’d been quietly poking at something on the stove like none of that just happened.

“Eeeheehee—!”

Normally, I’d gag at a name like that. And it’s not even original—he called me cupcake, princess, little witch…

But pretty girl?

Apparently, pretty girl made me forget what knees were. He had called me that several times now, but after last night? I actually bounced. Up and down. Like a fucking fangirl on Red Bull.

“Yes, dear. I heard. The loose stripper cop called you pretty girl. How darling.” Uncle Silas said without looking up.

“I’m fairly certain he’s called every woman in town that—before or after he’s gotten into their pants, I couldn’t say. But congratulations either way.”

“Whoa. Who pissed in your Cheerios?” I asked.

So much for basking in my afterglow.

“As a matter of fact, young lady, that little beast did.”

He gestured to Chester, who was mid-leg-lift on the kitchen steps, licking his ass like he hadn’t tormented a ghost all night.

“He kept me up all night. Refused to rest until he made biscuits in my… my… essence.”

“Your… essence?” My brow arched. “Do I want to know what that is?”

“Yes, my essence. The floaty green stuff. You know… the supernatural glitter of my disembodied soul.”

“Oh.”

“Normally, I tolerate the little cretin. But when a man’s trying to rest his spirit, he does not need an assembly line of biscuits kneaded into his ectoplasm.”

“Sorry? I think.”

Jesus, what even was this conversation?

“I’ll… um… talk to him?”

“Thank you.” He turned back to his pan like nothing had happened, which, in his book, it probably hadn’t.

“So—ghosts can eat now?” I leaned in, inspecting his technique.

“Technically, yes. But it does no good. It just… plummets straight through to the floor. Very undignified.”

“So how the hell are you even holding that pan?”

“Oh, it’s a feat, believe me. The amount of energy it takes to lift this pan and crack an egg? Would put most living folks in a coma for a week.”

“Huh. The Ghost gym must be wild .”

“Besides, I wasn’t making it for me. This is your home now. I thought you deserved a proper welcome meal.”

“Didn’t the aunts already make enough food to feed a coven for a week?”

“Yes, but this is the breakfast I used to make your mother when she visited. I thought… maybe you’d like it too.”

“Thank you. And… sorry about Chester.”

“Quite alright, dear. Honestly, it was a welcome distraction from the moaning and thumping I heard last night… and again this morning.”

“You heard this morning too?!”

I dragged my hand down my face like it might erase the shame.

“This morning was a bit muffled—between the water and the squeaking, it sounded like a basketball team playing in a swimming pool. But yes.”

Oh god.

Of course he heard. I mean… I just got wrecked by the hottest man alive. Twice. But holy shit—if Graham kept this up, I’d have to soundproof this whole damn house.