Page 24 of Spellbound & Speechless (Witches of Starbrook #2)
Aspen
I wasn’t lying when I said he’s not my first, but gods, I won’t complain if he’s my last. No one fills me like Mac does, and no one has ever finished me as fast as he can. I’ve always been the type to seek my pleasure, and I don’t shy from telling lovers exactly how I want it.
With Mac, I don’t need to put it into words. It’s as if he can read my mind and, in each moment, he awakens me to new… interests .
His claws scraping across my skin hard enough to sting and the flash of his red eyes will follow me into my dreams—but only the most pleasurable ones. I can’t get enough of him. I want to unravel for him again and again, and he seems to want the same, always putting my pleasure before his.
His tenderness fades when he pushes into me, hard enough to make me scream with desire—and pain. Sweet, delicious pain. The two dance together in a way I crave. I’m already deep in the throes of pleasure, trembling and clenching around his enormous cock.
Too big for me, but somehow… just right.
I tug on blades of grass, finding nothing else to hold, and remember how his large hands felt on my wrists moments earlier. Powerful. Domineering. He’s the sort of lover who makes me happy to give myself up to him.
He smacks a large hand against my ass, and I cry out as he pushes into me, an animalistic growl ripping from his throat.
“You’re mine. You better fucking take it all.” His hand moves up to my back, shoving me to the ground.
“Yes, sir. All yours.” A smile dances on my lips for a moment before contorting back into pleasure.
“Touch your clit. You’re going to come for me again.”
My fingers slip between my legs, and I rub myself, gasping at the sparks of pleasure.
“Or what?” I ask, just to push his buttons.
“Or I’ll make you come until you’re crying and begging me to stop. Is that what you want?”
I can’t give him a real answer. The moan that slips from my lips is only partially from the touch. It’s from how he speaks to me. Mac has always seemed quiet and buttoned up, but when his primal needs take over…
He’s different. I like both sides, but this is the one I crave.
Sex is an energy, and it’s one I choose to hone. It comes from him in waves now. It’s pure desire—an urge to fuck and fill.
“But I want you to come, sir.” I chase my release, rubbing my clit harder. “Need you to fill me.” I glance over my shoulder again, watching his face. “Breed me.”
His eyes flash red. The suggestion is an educated guess. Breeding kinks are common in werewolves, and considering how much he enjoys fucking me raw… well, it seems I was correct .
Which side of him likes it: the man or the wolf? Perhaps there’s no difference between the two. Gods, I want both .
He fucks into me harder, my eyes widening as he pushes deeper than before. “You want me to breed you? Is that what you fucking want?”
I cry and rub my fingers against my throbbing clit. “Yes!”
“Then you’d better come for me.” He snaps his hips against my ass. “I need that pussy clenching around me, taking in every drop.”
Tears prick at my eyes, and I know they’re from pleasure. “Please.”
His hand moves around my throat to pull me to his chest. I’m limp, going along with his every move.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says. “You have the most beautiful voice. You sound like heaven when you’re crying for me. And your body…” He huffs, circling his hips, making me feel every inch.
My ears ring when I unravel. The rest of his praise goes unheard, but somehow it pushes me over the edge.
“Fuck.” He grunts as he spills into me, his hips jerking wildly. “That’s right.” His hand moves down to my belly, pressing. “That’s my good girl. Taking every drop in your tight pussy. Mm…”
When I collapse against him, I know he’ll catch me. He leans back onto his knees, and I sit there, chest heaving as I catch my breath.
His dick slips out of me, and I whine, but his fingers replace it. I let out a soft sigh.
“Mac…”
“Hm?”
“What are you doing?”
“We’re not done.” He chuckles, his breath fanning over my neck. “I need to make you squirt again. Need you to soak my face.”
“Gods… yes…”
This man is going to be the end of me.
Eventually, he helps me gather apples, and we return to the house. Mac allows me to climb onto his back and carries me inside, which is preferable to me hobbling around. I’m sore between my legs and dripping with his seed; it’s the most satisfying sensation.
It’s always quiet in the morning. Rowan is likely in meetings, and my sisters work so late.
I’ll need to refresh the silence ward in my bedroom. It’s been too long since I’ve had a use for it, but something tells me Mac and I will need it to be in working condition.
Once inside, I wash the apples and set them on the countertop, gathering a cutting board and a knife.
“Nope.” Mac pushes me away with his hips. “You make the batter. I’ll do this.”
I narrow my eyes. “You don’t trust me with the knife, do you?”
“No. I don’t.” He grins. “But I trust you with everything else in here, including the hot stove, so… get to work.”
Perhaps I should be offended, but considering that the cut on my finger is still throbbing, he has good reason for his mistrust.
“Fine…” I glare as I back away to the pantry. “Are you sure I can trust you ? You don’t seem like the type to cook.”
“I don’t get to cook much when living out of motels, but… I know a thing or two.” He focuses on the apple, peeling each to perfection. “My knife skills are better than yours.”
“You’d better stop before you offend me.”
He smiles over his shoulder. “Don’t be offended. This is a good opportunity to improve our teamwork. Look at the silver lining, Aspen.”
I huff, and as I gather my ingredients, my cheeks grow warmer. “We already work pretty well together.”
“We do.” He doesn’t look up as he peels the next apple. “You aren’t doing the dishes, either. We don’t need to get your wound wet.”
My eyes widen. “But it’s bandaged!”
“I don’t care.”
There’s no reason to argue. Complaining about a man offering to help with the dishes is ridiculous. His help in the kitchen is the bare minimum, so I don’t let myself moon over him for too long before I get to work.