Jessica Andersen - Blood Spells

He rubbed his hard cock against her, bringing her to another precipice, not one of free fall this time, but of an orgasm that sparkled behind her eyelids, equal parts magic and sensation. The skin of her inner wrist warmed and pulsed as their jun tan connection cracked open and let a trickle of arousal flow from her to him and back again.

“Yes,” she said with her heart, mind, and voice. “Yes, now.” Her mouth found his and she poured herself into a kiss.

He went utterly still against her, save for the throb of his hard shaft against her center. Then he exhaled a pent-up breath on a whisper that she thought was her name. Shifting, he nudged the wide head of his cock against the initial resistance at the entrance to her body. She was wet and wanting, but tight because of how long it had been since they had given up the pretense of sleeping in the same bed.

The pressure wrung a growl from deep within his chest as he thrust home on a strong surge.

He invaded her, stretched her, filled her. And when he was seated to the hilt, pressing up against the end of her channel and making her breath go thin with the intensity of it all, he went still once more.

For a long moment, they lay joined and motionless as the counterpoint beat of their hearts echoed in the throb of his hard flesh, the pulse of her inner muscles. Unable to stay safe in the darkness behind her eyelids, she opened her eyes and looked up at him.

His gold-flecked brown eyes were entirely focused on her, on the moment. He wasn’t the twentysomething grad student who had glimpsed her across a crowded playa and chased her down, but in that moment he wasn’t the hard, remote Nightkeeper mage she’d been coexisting with for more than a year either. In his eyes she glimpsed the man who’d carried her over the threshold of their starter house and made love to her in every single room, including the laundry nook during the spin-

dry cycle.

Her eyes prickled at the memory, warning that she’d fallen out of the safe refuge of fantasy and magic. The heat and need, though, hadn’t dissipated. The jun tan sent incandescent energy through them both; he hardened further within her, stretching her and setting off chain reactions of inner fireworks. She focused on those bursts and slid back into the fantasy, remembering how her younger self had felt when she turned and found him watching her, how it had felt to lead him into the cave, to kiss him.

For a second, she could’ve sworn that the cool blue bedroom walls around them darkened and aged, turning to stone. Wishful thinking or not, it was enough to push away the tears and put her back in the moment, in the fantasy. Locking her inner muscles around him in a liquid squeeze, she said, as he had done earlier, “More.”

His expression turned inward, went glazed, and his teeth flashed on a purely masculine grin that held an edge of violence. “Hell, yeah, there’s more.” His voice dropped to a husky rasp that sent frissons of anticipation coursing through her body. “Hang on to me and I’ll show you just how much.”

He pressed her flat with his body, stilling her small, inciting movements. Then, although she would’ve sworn he was seated as deeply as he could be, he rolled his hips and went farther, startling a low moan out of her as he hit her sweet spots inside and out. When he withdrew fractionally, she moaned again, this time in protest at the loss of that delicious pressure.

“Hang on,” he repeated. “Let me take us there.” He pushed forward again, then eased back. Forward.

Back. And as pleasure vised her, locking her muscles around him, beneath him, she did as he’d demanded, clutching his wide shoulders, which became her anchor.

He was pulsing more than thrusting, his movements on the scope of fractions of an inch, but her body lit as hard and hot as if he’d been pistoning into her, driving them both beyond reason. What was more, the deep, subtle thrusts left them almost entirely joined throughout. He was inside her, almost becoming part of her. His pleasure echoed through the jun tan connection; she felt the satisfaction of each thrust from his perspective, then felt it from hers and sent the sensation echoing back to him. The feedback loop joined them even more deeply than his flesh within her, uniting them.

Nerves quivered, but she focused on the moment, on the man, turning her face into his neck and pressing her lips to the hollow dip at his collarbone. He shuddered against her but didn’t change his stroke or tempo, flexing his hips and withdrawing, flexing and withdrawing, bringing her pleasure inside and out, until the sum total threatened to overwhelm her.

Tears stung again, but she was beyond processing where they came from, or why. She could only feel what she hadn’t felt in so long, if ever. Her orgasm hovered close at hand, as if waiting for some signal from him, under his spell just as surely as she was. But although he was in charge of their lovemaking, she held power of her own. She exerted it now, contracting her inner muscles to counterpoint his pulsing thrusts, beginning to work him as he was working her.

His breath hissed out and his fingers flexed on her hips, where he held her against his relentless thrusts. That might have been his only outward response, but she felt a surge in the jun tan connection.

Pressure and aching, impossible arousal echoed along the bond, sparking red-gold behind her eyelids as orgasm drew near. His. Hers. Theirs.

She tightened around him, her body taking over the volition. It seemed that each muscle fiber sent a starburst of warm anticipation when it contracted, building a new layer of heat atop the desperate pleasure within her. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, finding purchase at the base of his neck and hanging on for dear life.

“Yes,” someone said. “Yes, there !” She wasn’t sure if the words had come from him or her, or if they were entirely internal, a cry of pleasure shared along the jun tan bond. She buried her face against his throat, reveling in the slick skin, the heat, the feeling of being there, with him. Not alone.

He must have quickened his pace and lengthened his strokes an iota at a time, because they weren’t locked together anymore, weren’t pulsing together, touching along every possible inch of skin.

Instead, he was fully moving within her, thrusting an inch at first, then more, both speed and swing increasing faster and faster, as though he’d fallen off the edge of self-control.

Her blood burned in her veins and her body undulated in opposition to his building thrusts, creating crazy-hot pressure with the liquid slide of skin and sex. The cave fantasy disappeared and the room around them ceased to exist as her entire universe contracted to the sum of her body and his, and the energy they created together. He groaned her name and wrapped his arms around her, enfolding her in an embrace that made her feel simultaneously protected and vulnerable.

Her strung-tight muscles reached the warm, breathless numbness that presaged climax, leaving her almost helpless in the throes, with her mouth pressed to his throat, open in a silent scream. His body was rigid, hot, and sweat-slicked; their mingled scents ripened the air with an earthy, primal musk that seemed to connect her, not just to him, but to the earth itself, and all its inhabitants. Then that preternatural flash disappeared as the tingling numbness contracted suddenly, centering itself on her moisture-slicked channel and the hooded flesh just outside it, and the slap and slide of his body into hers.

“Gods,” she whispered.

He responded with a groan that might have been her name, might have been a denial of the gods themselves. Then even those thoughts were lost as he thrust deep and held himself there, pressed against her inside and out, his cock throbbing within her.