Page 23 of Unhinged Magic (Cutters Cove Witches #2)

Embarrassment burned my cheeks. “You were listening?”

“Great in the sack…” he continued, his lips pulling into a grin.

I pointed a finger in his direction. “That was not me who said that,” I argued, trying my hardest to hide my smile but failing miserably.

He smirked and gods, how I loved the way he lit up when he did that. His thumb rubbed over his bottom lip, a devilish grin spreading over his face. “Freak. In. The. Sheets.” He sounded the words slowly, each one hitting its mark deep inside me.

Oh shit. I gulped in a wad of air as he moved unhurriedly toward me, one foot in front of the other. “You were never supposed to hear that, and again, it didn’t come from me,” I argued.

He shook his head, a low chuckle. “You girls...”

Butterflies danced in my stomach as he came closer, my devastatingly gorgeous sensor mage in my room .

It was different this time. I had been expecting him. I wanted him here.

Wesley’s head tilted to the side, a quick glance at the ominous chair still empty in the corner of my room. “Are you expecting company?”

My head shook. “Landon wouldn’t come on a night like tonight.”

Closing the space between us, his arms slid around my waist. “And how sure are you of that, exactly?”

His warmth engulfed me as he pulled me close, and I slid my hands up the length of his arms, resting them on his shoulders.

“Very sure. He comes when the nights are still.”

As if trying to convince him, a gust of wind hit the house, causing it to creak and moan. A layer of ocean spray stuck to the window, its salty layer hiding us from the outside world.

He ran a thumb over my jaw, his gaze gripping mine and holding tight. “We’re on our own tonight?” His gaze dropped to my lips, and I instinctively licked my own.

“Yes,” I whispered.

He slid his free hand into my hair, a cautious, tentative caress. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?”

The honesty in his eyes came straight from his soul, like an open wound baring its flesh to me, raw and untouched.

“You were made for me, Skip. I think somewhere inside of me, I’ve known it my entire life.”

“Wes…I—”

“Please let me kiss you,” he whispered, his breath so close I felt it on my own. “I need to kiss you so badly it hurts.”

Barely-there air drifted between our lips, an unspoken respect waiting to dissolve at a moment’s notice.

“You can kiss me whenever you like,” I mouthed against his lips.

His mouth floated over mine, touching, but not. Not a second later he did. Our lips pressed together, all needing and wanting, chasing the other like a lovesick high. Unfurling.

His hands gripped my cheeks, mine sinking into his shoulders.

I fell giddy in his arms as they moved to my back, pulling me into him until there was no space between us.

I felt his need push against me, hard and defiant, declaring intentions neither of us had spoken about, but it seemed we didn’t need to.

I wanted to touch him, the ache in my core like a compass signaling due north, pointed directly at him.

Sliding my hands between us, I rubbed him over the front of his jeans, a moan falling from him as I did.

My confidence soared, albeit thanks to the shots of the most disgusting liquor I had ever tasted in my life. But hell, I needed this buzz as much as I needed him.

I moved my palm against the denim between our flesh as his tongue slid into my mouth, deepening our connection. The faintest taste of malt lingered on his tongue, and I wondered if he was running on liquid courage like me.

He stared longingly at me. “Your touch is the most exquisite torture.”

His words caused a raw need to ache low in my stomach. His graveled tone spurred me on. I had never felt like this, had a grown man in the palm of my hand, practically begging for my touch. I felt empowered. Bold.

His lips set molten kisses along my collarbone, his fingers following the trail, featherlight and making me shiver. As I undid the button on his jeans, the slow drag of his zipper made him pause, his mouth moving until his lips grazed my ear.

“We don’t have to go any further if you don’t want to. Until we fix this, I mean.”

I could tell he meant every word, even if it would kill him doing so.

Pulling away, I stared into his lust-drunk irises under heavy lids. “I want to,” I assured him. “I need to.”

His throat bobbed as he watched my every move with an intensity I felt everywhere. It floated over my skin like silk, a caress I knew I would crave in his absence.

Sliding my hands into his tight boxers, I found him thick and hard. I stared at him in awe as I touched the most intimate part of him, watching him move through my hands like the most natural thing in the world.

Wesley’s breath caught in his throat, everything inside me melting, knowing I was the reason for it.

I rubbed my hand over his length, the flesh soft against my palm, something I knew would soon become my addiction.

I could barely cover him with my hand, his thickness a surprise.

He utterly captivated me as he slid through my hand with ease, drawing from him a gravelly moan.

“That’s it, just like that,” he praised, barely a whisper as pleasure stole his breath.

He covered my mouth with his again as I worked him over, his throaty groans spurring me on.

I wanted more. Needed to please him. Knowing that, even if I couldn’t feel the mate bond in its entirety, I knew he was feeling every bit.

His kiss left me whirling, breathless. I didn’t know a kiss could make me feel this way.

When he pulled back, an unfathomable hunger stared down at me through strands of his dark hair. I went to lower to my knees, but his arms gripped mine, stopping me.

“You don't have to. Let me please you, ” he insisted.

As much as I wanted him to have his way with me, I needed this more.

Heat flamed my cheeks. “I want to.”

Wesley studied me for a moment before releasing my arms, his thumb moving to my cheek. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

I smiled, unable to come up with an appropriate response to his question. Somehow Wes had gone from being my childhood best friend to someone I disliked, to… well, this .

I lowered to my knees, a radioactive gaze watching me closely.

He lifted his top up slightly and I stared up at a creature of strength, taking in every ripple of flesh that was him.

I had seen him with his top off before, but up close, the sneak peek I was getting confirmed he was a work of art.

Fit and lean, every muscle defined, with a sprinkling of dark hair under his navel leading south.

He helped me loosen his pants, pushing them further down his hips, freeing him from his confines. His length stood proudly, the girth of him making my stomach flip.

Taking him in my hand, I ran my thumb over the sensitive underside of him, his eyes lazing shut momentarily before opening again.

I edged closer, sliding my lips over him, struggling to take him at once, not pulling my gaze from him.

I wanted to see what I did to him, watch every hollow breath, knowing it was me who ruptured him.

I ran my tongue over his cock in long sweeps before sliding him into my mouth again. I couldn’t take all of him, opting to rub the tip of his length against the top of my mouth as I moved my hand over his base.

His lips parted slightly, groaning, “That’s insanely unreal.” He raked his hands into my hair while gently thrusting his hips forward.

Over and over, he slid between my lips, his jaw tightening, then flexing. I didn’t want to stop, because seeing him this way, unguarded and raw, did things to me. Angsty, needy things.

He gripped my shoulder, brow fixed. “You need to stop, or this is going to end too quick,” he rasped, tugging at my arms to pull me up again.

He swiped his thumb across my lip, admiration taking hold of him. “You have the mouth of a god,” he murmured, before kissing me fiercely, devouring my mouth with a kiss so potent that, if he wasn’t holding me against him, I feared my knees would buckle.

I was dizzy under his spell, his mouth, his tongue, the way his arms held me in this possessive yet gentle way. I was done for. After this, I would crave the touch of only one man for the rest of my life.

He pulled back, the tips of his fingers tracing a line down to my jaw. He tipped my chin up to him, holding me captive in his stare. “I wish you could feel the mate bond the way I do.”

I clawed my fingers into his shoulders. “One day I will,” I said, trying to convince both of us I was okay, that we were okay.

He nodded. “Let me take care of you.” His head bowed slightly. “I want to learn what you like, want to take my time with you.”

I could no longer hide the erratic rise and fall of my chest against his. My nerves shot to pieces completely. A look passed between us, silent acknowledgement. An understanding of both consent and desire slowing his next movements, turning it into something more sensual.

His fingers curled against the underside of my top until they found flesh, the warmth of his hands pressing into my sides, heating my skin.

I gasped at the contact, previously caged butterflies now escaping their confines and flooding my stomach.

As he gathered the material in his hands, lifting it over my head, my breath stifled in my chest. He hungrily eyed the plain black bra I had chosen this morning, covering my barely-there breasts.

When they moved south, they hovered over the protective wrap covering my tattoo, lingering before moving to the top of my jeans.

I couldn’t stop watching his hands as they undid them.

The way they flexed and moved as he slid them over my thighs until my pants dropped to the floor.

He helped me step out of them, looking up at me from below, irises molten.

Standing in my underwear, I felt completely exposed.