Page 17 of The Bookseller and the Alpha (Witch Twins #1)

Calypso

Featherlight kisses trailed down my shoulder and down between my breasts. I shivered in pleasure and my nipples hardened.

“Don’t stop,” I begged. Each place where his lips had landed pulsed with a warm glow, and my core clenched in response. Dampness slicked between my legs.

“What are you doing to me?” He blew a warm breath on the side of my neck and my hips jerked in response.

Oh my god. He was barely touching me, and I was ready to explode.

I’d never felt anything like this before.

My arms were stretched out on the pillow above my head, and one large hand caged both my wrists in his. His grip was gentle, but implacable.

“Ssh, no talking.” His voice vibrated against my stomach. With the hand not holding my wrists, he gripped my ass and lifted my torso, pulling down my underwear in one swift move.

I gasped. The air was chill against my bare skin.

And then the chill was replaced with heat.

His skin, against mine. Banishing the chill.

My hips arched, seeking closer contact. His cock pressed against my thigh.

I needed more. I was desperate, out of control.

I wanted to writhe against him, but an arm like iron wrapped around my torso, holding me still.

“Please.” Please don’t stop. Please fuck me. Please take all of me. Do what you want with me. My thoughts collided against each other. This was crazy. I barely knew him. I’d only just met him and he was arrogant and annoying, but I could not stop. My body craved him like an addict needing a fix.

“I said no talking. Now I’ll have to punish you.”

His head moved lower and a hot breath whispered across my bare sex.

When he licked my seam, I moaned. His tongue flicked out, again and again, tasting my juices.

He moved his lips and found my clit, biting down, just enough to cause a brief burst of pain.

Pain which increased the pleasure when he soothed the tender nerves with his tongue.

Ohmygods. My hips jerked involuntarily. I could feel the pressure building, the force inside me like a dam ready to burst. I heard myself panting.

I was so close. And he knew it, but he’d stopped anyway. This was my punishment.

Luc lifted his head and his eyes bored into mine. In the darkness, they shone an impossible blue. His inner Beast was in the driving seat. He looked at me like he wanted to eat me. It was primal, raw. I couldn’t look away. I was drowning in the depths of his gaze.

“Nothing to say?”

“Bastard,” I mouthed and he chuckled. Rich and sensual, the timbre of his voice resonated deep inside me.

Slowly he lowered his head to kiss me. His lips, full and warm, settled on mine.

Then he devoured my mouth. It was a claiming.

A branding. His tongue thrust between my lips, dominating the kiss.

I gasped into his mouth as two fingers thrust inside me.

Liquid heat swirled in my core, and my muscles pulsed to the rhythm of his fingers.

As my orgasm swept over me, I tore my mouth from his. If he was going to punish me, I could punish him in return. Blindly, I turned my head to his shoulder. I bit him. Hard.

He reared back. The grip on my wrists tightened for a moment, as his muscles clenched in shock.

His free hand grabbed my chin and tilted my head up.

I don’t know how he would react, not exactly, but I didn’t expect the fierce satisfaction and the slow smug smile that followed after.

His voice, an impossibly deep rumble said, “Mine.”

The blare of my phone startled me out of my dream and I jerked upright.

I was hot and sweaty all over, my nipples sensitive against the sensible flannel of my pyjamas.

My core clenched, seeking fulfilment and my pants were damp.

Gods. I’d had the hottest dream of my life.

About Luc. I flushed, remembering that Sam was in my lounge room. That was some dream.

I reached for my bedside lamp and blinked against the light. My phone rang again, insistent. Pompy, oblivious, still snored contentedly beside me.

The screen of my phone said “Electra.” It was two in the morning. Had she forgotten the time difference? Or was she ringing to warn me? My heart thumped. I swiped the screen on my phone. Before I’d opened my mouth to speak, she screamed down the line.

“Run!”

I almost dropped the phone in shock, but I scrambled out of bed, throwing back the covers and scooping Pompy under one arm.

“Sam,” I shouted.

He appeared in the doorway, hair rumpled, but eyes alert. “What’s wrong?”

I pushed past. “She said to run, so we’re running.”

We made it to my front door before all hell broke loose.