Chapter Sixteen #3
It meant she had something to hang on to when he shoved her skirt up.
All the way up, exposing absolutely everything as he went.
Like he wanted to see it all under the bright kitchen lights—the tops of her stockings, that bare strip of thigh, the clear shape of her swollen sex through that material.
Only for some reason, he didn’t look down as he curled the elastic of her panties around one finger.
He looked into her eyes. He held her gaze, all the way through the slow but firmly done slide of that silk over her thighs.
Almost like a challenge, she thought. Like he was waiting for her to admit she hadn’t meant it.
Even though he had to know she had.
She could feel the bloom of heat in her cheeks, so thick and rich it had to be visible.
It wasn’t even just confined to her face.
It had started to spread the moment she realized what he intended to do, and now it was pretty much covering her throat, her chest. And she knew that chest was exposed enough to see.
She was breathing so hard, and arching her back in such a lewd sort of way, that the top button of her blouse had popped open. That was the curve of her cleavage trying to burst out of the gaping V there. Truly, she could not have looked more like an eager slut if she’d tried.
But still, he waited.
He went slow, slow, slow.
Hours seemed to pass, and her panties were barely halfway down her thighs. It was honestly all she could do to not put her hand over his and urge him on. Or put her own hand between her legs, to ease the ache she could already hardly stand.
Though it was good she didn’t in the end.
Because it meant she got to hear him break the tense silence.
“Say the word and I will be your servant ,” he said. So she did.
She told him please, please.
Then watched as he dropped to his knees. Half of her already delirious at the idea of what she had thought he would do. Now forced to reckon with the idea that it was more. He was going to do more. He was going to put his mouth between her legs, she knew he was.
Yet she still wasn’t prepared when he did it.
Because the thing was, he didn’t just lick, the way she had always imagined this would go.
He didn’t just go directly to the on switch, and flick at it until things worked.
He leaned down like someone sinking into a smooch.
And then he actually did just that. He pressed his lips to the seam of her sex, in this slowly rolling sort of way, until that seam parted under the gently urging pressure.
And then somehow he was kissing her clit.
Really kissing it, as if this wasn’t just something he was happy to do.
It was something he liked . Something he luxuriated in, and to the point where her pleasure almost seemed incidental.
It was just him reveling in her cunt, moaning low and deep as he did so, one hand on her lower belly, the curve just above her sex, to keep her close, close, close.
Truly it took her a while to realize what else that hand was doing.
Because it all felt so good, it felt so intense. She felt pretty sure she was going to get there—and that was really more than enough for her. But then he seemed to just kind of press down. He kind of rolled the heel of his palm over her there, until it almost urged her against his mouth.
And Jesus, the way it intensified every single sensation.
It was obscene. It made her want to scream.
Plus the way he was kissing her now—it was slow and sensuous, just like it had been at the start.
But there was a deliberateness to it now.
An insistence. He kept at that exact thing, over and over and over, until that low pulse of pleasure just seemed to deepen somehow.
It became an ache, heavy enough that she kind of wanted to stop it. She wanted to get away from it.
She scrambled a little on the table.
But not enough to tell him he should let go. Just enough to make sure he kept on, never doing more, never doing less, just that same maddening pressure that cranked things up again and again until she wasn’t just trembling, she wasn’t just making little soft sounds.
She was moaning, long and loud.
Shuddering all over, like a machine about to break.
“Ohhhhh god, Jack,” she heard herself say, so desperate it should have embarrassed her. But how could it, when he seemed determined to make it worse? He was licking her just a little now. Little flickers of his tongue on the end of every slowly dragging kiss. And that hand was really pressing, too.
It was like being in a slowly tightening vise.
If the vise had been an absolute expert in making someone come.
Because god, there was no denying he was.
He even seemed to know exactly when to back off just a little bit, as she was about to break.
So instead of hitting a small wave and crashing out, she found herself in the middle of a slowly gathering tsunami.
Then just as she was sure he was going to hold off again, just as she almost broke and begged him, he found the tightly clenched entrance to her sex with one softly stroking fingertip.
Then he eased it in, all nice and slow.
He fucked her with it, until it was just there.
That same bliss, unlike anything she’d ever experienced.
Only this time, it was even sweeter. Even better.
God, it was almost unbearable. She made sounds like sobbing as it claimed her whole body, and only realized the sobs were really what they were when she put a hand to her face.
It was wet. Streaked with tears.
She had to wipe them quickly before he stood up so as not to disrupt his happiness.
Because he was happy, she could see. And she didn’t think it was just because he’d completely wrecked her.
It was because he’d stayed himself. He’d stayed human.
He’d done the very thing he was sure he had no handle on.
Then he made the mistake of looking down at her, all sprawled over the table, legs spread, clothes in disarray, dazed with lust and stuffed full of pleasure. That cunt all slick and messy, right before his eyes.
And he practically went poof .
Like a magician’s trick.
One second a man, the next a demon, glorious and incredible to behold.
So when he cursed, when he said, “Ah fuck, I almost had it,” she didn’t really understand.
She almost went to ask, in fact. But then she thought of what he wanted to be—an ideal human man for his dream girl to fall in love with.
Not a sudden demon every time he got a little horny.
Because clearly, getting a little horny made the switch happen.
And if she was a witch, too? Even just a little bit, even accidentally?
Chances were she was going to see it. And maybe be a lot more horrified than Nancy would ever be. She might never say she loved him under those terrifying, beast-like circumstances. So it seemed obvious why he might be perturbed.
It was all right, though.
She had a good idea for how to help with that.
She had a good idea for how to help with everything .
Because now she wasn’t some kid on her own. She had friends. Magical friends, of the kind she’d only vaguely suspected of something strange, before, but now showed themselves clearly in her head. Cassie , she thought, it’s Cassie and her “apothecary.” Then knew just what to do.