Chapter 27 Julia
Julia
Hannah’s weight on my lap is driving me to madness.
It’s hard to believe this woman who once looked at me with fear is now writhing on top of me, claiming my mouth like she’s trying to devour me.
Her tongue flicks over mine, and when she rocks her hips against me, it’s everything not to throw aside my promise and begin the feeding incantation.
My magic stirs restlessly beneath my skin, confused by the pleasure without purpose, the touch without taking.
In all my years, all my feedings, no one has ever asked me to be with them without my magic.
They wanted the power, the intoxication, the dark thrill of being consumed.
But Hannah wants…what? I don’t understand why she insists on this.
What’s the point of this intimacy if I’m not going to fill my magic in the process?
But if this is how I get her to surrender enough to break the spell, so be it.
I grip her waist and kiss her back hard, running my tongue over her lips. Somewhere during the evening, my desire for her has turned into something painful. Every brush of her lips sends fire through my veins, and every sound she makes deepens the ache between my legs until I cannot think.
Her hands tangle in my hair, tugging hard enough to make my breath hitch. She swallows the sound with a deeper kiss, and I can’t help the way my back arches to meet her.
What is she doing to me? Making my body move without my permission, making my breath catch and my insides ache with desire. I’m Julia Moreau. I do not lose control. I do not let anyone reduce me to trembling need, no matter how beautiful. But her hands in my hair, her tongue in my mouth…
This is dangerous. A traitorous part of me wants to be touched without the excuse of hunger, to matter to someone beyond what my magic can do for them.
“You’re thinking too much,” Hannah murmurs against my mouth, her breath hot. “Let go.”
She grinds down against me, the friction through our clothes making my thoughts dissipate like scattering dust. And as she trails her lips down my throat, nipping at spots that make me shiver, the confusion roaring inside me falls away. All that matters are her lips and hands.
She pulls back to look at me, her eyes wide and wild, her lips swollen from our kisses. No one has ever looked at me the way she does, with a hunger that matches my own.
“That’s better,” she whispers.
Before I can deny whatever she thinks I’m feeling, she rocks back and grabs the hem of that tiny shirt of hers.
She pulls it over her head, revealing her perfect breasts and hard nipples.
Her smooth, pale skin isn’t full of goosebumps this time, but she’s marked by my fingers and the rough tree bark from earlier.
This evidence of what we did, of the way she begged and moaned for me in the woods, makes something desperate roar back to life inside me.
I want to mark her again. I want to bite her perfect skin until she’s gasping my name.
Without taking my eyes off her, I extend my hand toward the parlor doors, sealing them with a rune. Of course, nothing will truly keep Elizabeth out of a room in her own house, but it will be enough to deter her and to stop the others from entering.
Hannah glances at the door, her chest heaving as she watches red marks seal us in as if by a molten blade.
“Undress for me,” I command. I want to savor this, to see every inch of skin she reveals for me.
She hesitates for the briefest moment, then stands, removing her bottoms so she’s naked in front of me once more.
“Your turn,” she whispers.
She reaches for my bodice, and I catch her wrists, stopping her. The movement was instinctive, my body reacting before I thought about what I was doing.
Hannah goes still, holding my gaze. “Trust me.”
The word prickles my ears. Trust. I have never granted anyone such power.
Every instinct screams at me to get to my feet and back her against the wall, to pin her wrists above her head and show her who’s in control.
I could have her on her back in seconds, legs spread and bound by magic, perfect lips begging.
The urge to dominate her is so strong that magic crackles between my knuckles.
But something challenging in her gaze makes me stay seated. She is daring me to let this happen…and I hate how much I want it.
Slowly, I force my fingers to uncurl, releasing her wrists.
My pulse is racing. This simple act of letting go feels like stepping off a cliff. Every second I allow her to continue is a second I’m not dictating what happens next, not protected by the armor of dominance.
But when she smiles—not triumphant, but something softer—the unease inside me loosens, and I let her reach forward once more. Her hands are gentle as she finds the small hooks down the front of my bodice. One by one, she pries them free until the whole piece relaxes.
She eases it open, sliding her hands around my waist as she pushes the cloth back.
With only my blouse and chemise between her skin and mine, her touch is like fire, making me burn and ache everywhere.
She kisses me, slow and deep, then pulls back to unbutton my blouse next. When the cool air meets my skin, she pushes it back over my shoulders, her hands following. Only my chemise is left.
She traces the curves and planes of my body like she’s memorizing me. I shiver.
Never has anyone touched me like this. Charlotte worshipped my power, but Hannah touches me like…
I don’t know.
I don’t understand her.
My heart pounds as she reaches for my chemise and tugs upward.
I lift my arms, letting her remove it, aching to feel her soft touch on my bare skin.
I’m more exposed than I’ve ever been. Not just my skin, but something deeper that I’ve kept locked away since Charlotte’s body went cold beneath me.
God, I don’t deserve Hannah’s gentle hands, her wanting eyes, the way she caresses me.
What if this ends the same way? What if I let Hannah touch me, not for feeding but for pleasure, and I destroy her anyway?
She is the one person who has dared to see me as a woman instead of a sanguine witch, and I don’t know if I can be that for her.
“Beautiful,” Hannah breathes, and before I can process the compliment, she lowers her mouth to my chest.
The wet heat of her tongue on my breast makes me arch, a sound I don’t recognize leaving my throat.
She takes her time, lavishing my breasts with attention until I’m panting, my fingers tangled in her hair.
When she grazes her teeth over the sensitive peaks, molten heat rushes through me.
I’m so ready for her that every brush of her tongue feels like torture.
When did pleasure become something I am allowed to receive instead of just take?
“Hannah—”
She raises herself up and captures my mouth again, swallowing my protest. Her hand slides between my legs, rubbing through my trousers, and pleasure surges through me at her touch.
My face is hot. Sweat prickles the back of my neck. This is mortifying. I don’t respond like this. I’m the one who makes others writhe and beg. It must be magic at play, all these manipulative spells stripping away my defenses and turning me into someone desperate.
Or maybe it’s not magic. Maybe it’s just Hannah, whispers an annoying voice at the back of my mind.
I need to regain control. I massage her breast, pinching her nipple until she gasps. I run my other hand up her thigh and between her legs, and the wetness I find there makes us both moan. I trace circles that make her tremble, then slide inside, feeling her clench around me.
“Julia,” she gasps, her head tipping back.
She rocks against my hand, mesmerizing in the way she moves and the sounds she makes. When I rub my thumb over her pearl, she cries out, her grip digging into my shoulders.
Her breasts bounce as she rides my fingers, her thighs hot through the material of my trousers.
But the facade of control is brief, and too soon, she’s sliding off my lap. I grab her to pull her back, but she resists. Instead, she sinks to her knees between my legs, looking up at me with greedy eyes.
She slides her hands up my thighs and begins unbuttoning my trousers.
I watch her, dizzy, breathing hard. I don’t stop her.
When she tugs my trousers down, I buck my hips to let her, and the next thing I know, I’m completely naked.
“Spread your legs for me,” she says, throwing my own words from the forest back at me.
I open my mouth to tell her to take that back. I am the one who consumes, not the one who gets consumed. But as she looks up at me with those devastating eyes, I can do nothing but give in.
The smile that curves her lips is absolutely wicked. When did she learn to look at me like that? When did the innocent girl from the backyard become this creature who makes me burn before she’s even touched me?
She leans in, her breath ghosting over where I’m aching for her, and I have to grip the chair to keep from grabbing her head and directing her mouth where I want it.
A desperate sound leaves my throat, and all I can think is “yes.” I need her mouth on me more than I need my next breath.
She looks up at me one more time, holding my gaze as she leans in.
Do I stop her? If I let her pleasure me like this, there will be no more pretending this is just about breaking the spell. I need to take back control before it’s too late, before she reduces me to something weak and desperate and—
Her tongue slides over my center, and coherent thought abandons me entirely.