Page 98 of How to Flirt with a Witch

“Y-yes. Keep going exactly like that.” I’m more than okay. Naked with her, I feel safe, cared for, like there’s nowhere else I want to be.

She does as I say, and I struggle to lower my voice as I guide her. I completely dissolve as she responds in all the right ways, running her tongue over places that make my thighs quake.

As I tangle my fingers in her hair, the inside of my wrist catches my eye. Distantly, I register that I’ve smudged the lines of ash and pollen from the induction ceremony. But the world beyond this room feels impossibly unimportant.

After torturously long minutes at the mercy of Natalie’s tongue, I reach the top of the roller coaster, and there’s nothing left to do but freefall.

“Natalie,” I whimper, heat building low inside me.

She hums, and her warm breath pushes me past the point of no return.

“Oh, God—” My words pour out incoherently, mingled yeses and curses rising in volume.

I hold her head in my hands and stifle my cries as the pleasure comes to a peak. My body moves of its own accord as wave after wave hits me. Hips bucking. Legs writhing. Fingers clutching. From my lips to my toes, everything tingles.

I’ve pushed myself halfway up the bed by the time the waves finally release me.

Natalie sits up, grinning, and unbuckles her belt.

I’m disoriented as I watch her, gasping for breath. Every cell in my body is throbbing, concentrated between my legs.

“That was unbelievable,” I say weakly. Never in my life has anything felt so good.

She unbuttons her jeans and opens the zipper, looking down at me with an expression I’ve never seen on her—a feral craving, blazing with intensity.

Desire stirs in my belly.

I sit up and put my hand on her shoulder to push her down. But before I can flip us over, she stops me, taking my hand and lifting my fingers to her mouth. “Stay there,” she murmurs, running her tongue between my index and middle finger, then sucking on them. The sensation ripples through me, making my breath hitch.

She guides my fingers down between her legs, rubbing her over her unzipped jeans. “I want to kiss you while you touch me,” she whispers.

I nod, too dazed to speak.

“Good girl,” she says with a playful quirk of her lips.

I return her smirk, even as there’s an explosion inside me—and then I’m treated to the full view of her as she takes off her sports bra.

Help.

She strips down completely and climbs back on top of me, her mouth finding mine again.

Our bodies slide against each other, arching, writhing. I’m lost in her smooth skin, her hard nipples, her tongue, her lips. The whole world is just her—her warm, herbal scent, her hot skin, the taste on my tongue.

Her mouth finds my neck, nipping a trail from my earlobe to my breasts.

Panting, I reach between her legs, savoring the process of slowing down and teasing her. I draw a trail over her hips and inner thighs, moving slowly inward. Her skin feels so unbearably good under my fingers that I want to prolong this as much as possible.

When I finally reach her center, she gasps into my mouth, a shiver sweeping over her. I bite back a grin, satisfied by how ready she is.

As I massage her, she moans, rocking her hips against my hand.

With her knees, she pushes my legs apart, bringing a hand down to touch me too.

Oh, fuck. Oh-fuck-oh—

I gasp, spiraling out of control as she enters me.

“This okay?” she murmurs against my neck.