Page 7 of Spice (Unhinged Holidays #1)

“Such a sweet, pretty pussy,” I murmur, kissing her thigh.

“It’s begging for my tongue, isn’t it? Begging for me to claim it.

” I look up at her, my eyes locking onto hers.

Her cheeks are flushed, her lips parted, her breath coming in quick gasps.

She’s a vision, a goddess laid out before me.

“Tell me you want it, Willow,” I command, my voice dropping to a low growl.

“Tell me you want my mouth on you. Tell me you want me to claim this sweet cunt as mine.”

She whimpers, her hips bucking slightly, seeking more contact. I chuckle darkly. “Such a greedy little thing, aren’t you? Don’t worry, my sweet witch. I’ll give you what you need. But first, I want to hear you say it.”

I trace a finger lightly over her swollen clit, causing her to gasp. “Ezra,” she breathes, her voice barely a whisper.

“That’s right, Willow,” I purr, my finger circling her clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. “Say my name. Tell me what you want.”

Her eyes meet mine, filled with lust and desperation. “I want you, Ezra. I want your mouth on me. I want you to claim me.”

A slow, satisfied smile spreads across my face. “Good girl,” I murmur, before leaning in and giving her what she wants. What we both want.

I flatten my tongue and lick her slowly, from her entrance all the way up to her clit, savoring her taste. She’s sweet and tangy, like the finest spellwine. I could feast on her for hours, for days, and never get enough.

“Fuck, you taste good,” I growl against her flesh, my tongue circling her clit, drawing out loud moan from her.

Her hips buck against my mouth, seeking more, and I give it to her.

I slide two fingers inside her, curling them to hit that sweet spot, my tongue working her clit in time with my fingers.

The runes on her body glow brighter, their light pulsing in time with her heartbeat. Willow’s body convulses, her sopping wet pussy clamping down on my fingers, her clit throbbing against my tongue.

And then she comes again.

Her body arches off the altar, her scream echoing through the room. The entire altar glows white-hot, the runes blazing like the sun, their light blinding. Willow’s release is explosive, her juices squirting from her, coating my face, my fingers, the altar beneath her.

I lap at her, my tongue gathering every drop of her sweetness, my words a low growl against her flesh as I work her with my fingers, pressing on that small, rough spot and making more juice squirt out.

“That’s it, my pretty witch. Give me every drop.

” I drink down everything she gives me, and I feel like I’m glowing from within.

Her magic is warm and sweet, but no less powerful for it.

Willow’s body levitates slightly off the altar, her back arching beautifully as she rides out her climax. I chant through the rising magic, binding it, channeling it. Gold light glimmers between us, her magic and mine swirling visibly together like two storm fronts colliding.

“That’s it, Willow,” I growl, my hands gripping her thighs, spreading her wider. “You’re doing so fucking well. Look at you, levitating, your magic pouring out of you. You’re a goddess. A fucking vision.”

Strands of gold glimmer in the air between us, stretching from my heart to hers. I can’t tell if it’s the mating bond or the ritual magic.

“What is that?” Willow asks, her voice thick with lust.

“A tether. I’m binding your magic to mine through your orgasms. It’s working.

” I suck in a shuddering breath at the sight before me.

Willow’s skin is glistening with sweat and magic, and she’s flushed all over.

Her nipples are hard, her breathing ragged.

Her legs are still parted, her pussy dripping on the altar. She’s shaking slightly. She’s radiant.

She’s mine.

The realization makes something inside me snap.

The ritual should be methodical, a careful dance of give and take, but I’m starving for her now. The hunger is a living thing, clawing at my insides, demanding to be sated.

I climb over her, my body covering hers, still clothed while she lies bare beneath me.

I press my lips to hers, kissing her hot and deep.

She moans into my mouth, her body arching against mine.

The symbols on her skin respond wildly, their glow intensifying, pulsing in time with her heartbeat.

Her magic is a tangible force pushing against mine, seeking to merge, to become one.

Willow claws at me, frantic, her nails raking down my back. “I want more. Now,” she gasps against my lips, her voice a desperate plea.

And just like that, my control breaks. I tear myself away from her, just long enough to whip my sweater over my head. The air vibrates with our combined power, the candles flickering wildly, the shadows dancing in a frenzy. Her eyes are on me, wide and hungry, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Ezra,” she whispers, her voice a husky plea.

I lean down, capturing her lips in another searing kiss.

Her hands roam over my chest, my back, her touch setting my skin on fire.

I want her to touch me everywhere, forever.

In all of my two-hundred and forty-one years, no touch has ever felt like Willow’s. No touch has ever affected me this way.

I break away from her, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I need to be inside her. I need to feel her, to claim her, to make her mine in every way possible.

She fumbles with my belt, her fingers awkward and trembling with urgency.

I bat her hands away, my own fingers making quick work of the buckle.

I push my pants down, just enough for my cock to spring free.

I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my fucking life.

I’m dripping, my balls throbbing. I need in a way that takes my breath away.

Her eyes widen as she stares at my cock. “Um…wow,” she whispers. “That’s, um. Thick.” She swallows, and I can see a flicker of nervousness in her pretty eyes.

“I promise you that you’re more than wet enough to take me.”

The air vibrates around us, magic pulsing.

“Show me,” she begs. “Show me how good you’ll feel inside me.”

My hand is shaking as I fist my cock and drag it through her slippery slit. She moans, writhing and arching, skin glimmering.

“Willow,” I groan as I notch the head of my cock at her entrance and push in slowly. She gasps as I sink into her tight heat one inch at a time. Light emanates from where we’re connected, sparks flaring at every point of contact.

“Oh,” she moans. “Oh, fuck.” She slants her hips up to meet mine, and I sink in another inch.

I grit my teeth against the onslaught of intense pleasure.

The heat of it ripples down my spine, through my chest. Slowly, I sink all the way inside her.

Goddess, she’s tight. So tight and hot that I can barely breathe.

Magic sparks and dances like glitter across our skin. She looks ethereal. Breathtaking.

And she’s mine.

I slide almost all the way out and then press back in, sinking balls deep this time, sheathing myself in her glorious cunt.

The magic hits harder than before, like a thunderclap echoing through both of us.

Images flash through my mind, fragments of Willow’s life playing out like a film reel.

I see her as a child, laughing and playing with her grandmother.

I see her struggling with her magic, her insecurities.

I see her now, beneath me, her eyes wide and filled with wonder and desire.

I know she’s seeing my life too, the magic binding us, connecting us on a level deeper than anything I’ve ever experienced.

“It’s the bond,” I manage. “Or the ritual. Or both. I’m not sure.”

She wraps her arms around me and laughs.

“I can see you. I see you from a very long time ago. I see you crossing the ocean on a ship, destined for the New World. I see you riding a horse. I see you running barefoot through cobbled laneways wearing a loose shirt and breeches, young and carefree.” She laughs again, hips rising up to meet mine.

“I feel like…like my soul already knows yours.”

“I feel the same way, little witch,” I say, then kiss her as I start to move in a slow, steady rhythm.

Our auras flare together, a brilliant explosion of gold and pink, the colors merging and swirling around us.

Matching runes and sigils appear on my body, glowing and pulsing in time with the ones on Willow’s skin.

The air is filled with the scent of pumpkin spice, sweet and warm, as the magic builds around us.

Bottles rattle on the shelves, a strange wind rushing through the room and extinguishing all but one candle.

The flickering light casts shadows on the walls, the symbols glowing like stars in the darkness.

My strokes in and out of her wet pussy are slow and reverent.

Her pussy grips me like a vice, every ridge and ripple delicious against my cock.

The power builds fast, the magic pulsing through us, growing with each thrust. Her pleasure, her need, her desire overwhelm me.

It’s intoxicating, a heady mix of sensation and emotion that I could drown in.

“Fuck, Willow,” I growl, my voice low and ragged. “You feel so fucking good. So tight, so wet. You’re taking me so well, my pretty witch.” I praise her with filthy, dirty words, my hips moving in a slow, deep rhythm. Her body responds, her hips rising to meet mine, her breath coming in sharp gasps.

I lean down, capturing her lips in a hot, deep kiss, needing even more connection. With every thrust, magic crackles around us, like static in the air. The power between us is immense, and without the protective runes and sigils, my house would likely be in shambles right now.

Not that I would care. I’d gladly sacrifice my home to experience this.

I break the kiss, my lips trailing down her neck, my teeth nipping at her flesh.

She moans, her body arching against mine, her nails raking down my back.

When our eyes meet, hers are no longer the warm coffee-brown of before.

Now, they’re glowing gold. Based on the way she gasps slightly as she stares at me, I’m going to guess that mine are, too.

The house creaks and moans around us, shuddering with the intensity of the magic unspooling between me and Willow. She clenches around me, pulling me deeper inside her, making more magic flare around us.

The sex is the magic. The magic is the sex.

The two are so intertwined that they can’t be separated.

One feeds into the other in a continuous loop.

This is cosmic, ancient magic. I can feel Willow in my blood, and it feels so fucking good that I want her in me for the rest of my life, no matter how long or short it may be.

If I’m going to die tonight, I’ll have had a hell of a ride on my way out.

I hope I don’t die tonight. It feels greedy, to want more after over two-hundred years, but I’ve only just found Willow. I want more with her. I want everything with her.

“Ezra,” she moans, clinging to me as we move together. I’m buried deep inside her, she’s gushing around me, and I’ve never felt this good in my very long life. “Something’s happening.” Her eyes meet mine, glazed with lust but wide.

“Don’t fight it,” I breathe. “Let it take us.”

We fuck like animals, my face buried in her neck, my cock pumping in and out of her, my fingers on her clit.

“So fucking beautiful. Look at the way you’re taking me.

Look at the magic you’re making. You feel so fucking good, Willow.

And you’re all mine. My sweet witch. Mine to fuck. Mine to love. Mine.”

I growl the last word and she starts to come again, squeezing and pulsing around me in a way that renders me completely senseless.

I fuck her, hard and fast, my hips slamming into her, and I start to come, too.

As the first jet of cum pulses out of me and into her ripe, fertile cunt, the magic around us explodes.

Golden light floods the room. Copies of the sigils I’ve drawn on her body sear into the walls, a permanent mark of our ritual.

The gold thread between us is thicker now, stronger.

I collapse on top of her, my arms shaking. She’s trembling beneath me, gasping for air, and I roll to the side, pulling her tight against me. We’re both wrecked.

“You were made for me, Willow Ashwood.” I whisper the words against her damp temple and then seal them with a kiss.

She turns her head, her eyes meeting mine. She looks completely dazed. “I think I was.”