Chapter 15. Caitlyn
My heart felt as though it was about to burst through my ribcage like the chestburster from that old alien movie. Blaise stood in front of me, his hand extended.
My cheeks burned, and my body coiled in anticipation—my still-trying-to-escape-my-chest-cavity heart flooding my veins with warmth and a sense of rightness that sent tingles from head to toe.
Nothing had ever felt more natural than placing my hand in Blaise’s large, thickly calloused one and letting him pull me to my feet and into his arms. His fingers traced a soft line down my cheek, as though he were memorizing me, his eyes wide with something like disbelief.
It lingered there for a heartbeat longer before finally beginning to fade, now that I was safely in his embrace.
A small part of me wondered whether he was still hung up on the mysterious person he’d left behind.
But a much louder part of me rejoiced that he was here—present and ready to explore the fated connection unfolding between us.
And when his lips brushed against mine—
Creep made the entire house creak.
I pulled back, shooting the house a death glare, barely managing to hide my amusement at the sight of it tilting like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, as though Creep were trying to eavesdrop on every breath between us.
She was clearly beginning to regret driving me out, now that her witch and incubus were exploring their new bond well out of her earshot.
Well. She should have thought of that before betraying me.
And while I’d already decided I would forgive her... she could sweat for a little longer.
“How about we head somewhere a little more private?” I said loudly, gesturing toward the tent.
The moment we turned in its direction, the house let out a splintering groan of pure frustration.
But any thoughts beyond desire dissolved the second Blaise placed his hand at the small of my back, guiding me toward the tent he’d so gallantly erected...
The very precariously erected tent.
I had to bite back a giggle. I’d been so grateful when Blaise took over camp-making duties—freeing me up to focus on my potions—that I hadn’t actually looked up from my cauldrons to assess whether he’d managed to create something remotely resembling a suitable living arrangement.
Blaise grinned as he held the tent flap open with exaggerated care and gestured for me to go inside.
“I hope you and Creep make up soon,” he said lightly. “I’ve recently discovered I’m not a natural when it comes to the outdoorsy way of life.”
The giggle escaped me then. “So I can see.” I ducked my head into the tent, hopeful that the inside was more livable than the exterior suggested.
To my surprise, Blaise had clearly gone to great lengths to make it comfortable.
A large blow-up mattress sat in the center, piled with duvets and pillows.
I wasn’t sure when he’d disappeared into the woods at the back of the field, but he must have—two cut tree trunks flanked the bed as makeshift bedside tables, each topped with a flickering LED candle.
But the sweetest touch of all was the neatly folded set of pajamas waiting on my pillow.
A shame, really, that the tent itself looked as though it might collapse around us at the slightest provocation.
As if reading my thoughts, Blaise said, “I doubt it’s going to survive a night of your snoring.”
I slapped his arm playfully. “That is not what you say to a lady.”
“Well, I hope the inside is up to my lady’s standards,” he said, pulling me into his arms and guiding me toward the bed.
I couldn’t help but giggle again. “It most certainly is.”
Blaise pulled me closer against his chest, the solid evidence of his desire pressed firmly to my torso, and whispered into my ear, “Have I told you yet how much I love the way you laugh?”
I shook my head, biting back the barrage of words threatening to spill from my lips.
I wanted to tell him how much I loved his smile.
The golden hue of his eyes. The way his eyebrows had grown back just a little crooked.
But before I could organize my thoughts into anything remotely coherent, Blaise was already guiding me down onto the mattress, his mouth trailing warm, teasing paths along my ear.
The sensation sent a sharp, breathless jolt straight through me.
Yeah. This was definitely the mental reset I’d been craving.
Blaise’s lips peppered kisses down my neck and across my jawline until our mouths met. His kiss held the barest restraint, as if he were trying his best to savor it when all he really wanted to do was devour.
As if on cue, his stomach let out a loud grumble.
I pulled away, panting, the thought verbalizing before I could think better of it. “When was the last time you fed?”
“I... uh...” was all he managed before I realized my mistake.
“Sorry,” I stuttered. “Inappropriate topic. Very inappropriate time.”
“No, it’s fine,” he said quietly. “Properly? Six months ago.” He played with the elastic band on his wrist, snapping it against what looked to be very red skin. “Since then, it’s just been a little, whenever I’ve needed it.”
Six months ago.
I wondered if that was when it had fallen apart with the person he’d cared for—and for reasons I couldn’t explain, the weight of it settled on my chest too, as if some small part of the loss belonged to me.
“Anyway,” he said, his thumb tracing lightly over my jaw. “None of it matters. Not now that I’ve found you.”
This time, when he pressed his lips to mine, they were softer, as if he’d regained his tempo. My hand slid into his hair, the other tracing down his ribs—lower, lower, lower—until, much sooner than I expected, my fingers were gliding over his length through his sweatpants.
He huffed out a breath, his lips curling against mine.
“I did just mention that it’s been a while for me,” he said, pressing a kiss to my lips before pulling away.
His smile was both wicked and hungry. “I want this to last longer than a few minutes. I usually have the stamina to go all night and then some.” His nostrils flared as he drank in my scent, his cock pulsing, straining against his pants.
“But with the way you smell right now, Caitlyn, I don’t trust a lifetime of experience not to fail me. ”
I flicked him gently on the nose. “It’s been a while for me too. Besides, I don’t recall saying I wanted slow and drawn out.”
Blaise let out a low, throat-deep groan, and then all pretense of savoring was gone. He crushed his lips to mine, his body guiding me back onto the mattress as his fingers fumbled at the clasps of my overalls.
The moment the clasps sprang free, one hand slid beneath me, lifting my ass from the bed, while the other worked the corded material down my hips and thighs.
He nudged them the rest of the way off, letting them fall to the floor before his mouth began its slow trail down my body—past my throat, over my chest, and finally latching onto my nipple through my T-shirt.
I let out a whimper, feeling his lips curl in pleasure against my skin as his fingers slipped into my panties. His teeth grazed me lightly as his fingers found my wetness.
“Gods, Caitlyn,” he ground out, his voice reverberating over my skin and straight through to my bones—and, as if he couldn’t finish the thought, he said it again, rough and breathless. “Gods...”
I could have cried when he pulled his fingers from my panties and lifted his mouth from my nipple—but instead of pulling away completely, he brought his hand to his mouth, licking his fingers clean, as if he couldn’t bear a single drop of me going to waste.
Gods indeed.
When his eyes met mine, his pupils were blown wide. His features were soft, as if he were completely lost in my taste. Then his hands were on me again, tugging my panties down. The moment he had them off, his palms slid to my thighs, prying my legs apart.
There was no time to feel coy or embarrassed—not when his tongue dragged through my folds, only stopping for him to mutter a final, reverent “Gods...” before he sucked my clit into his mouth.
I bucked uncontrollably at the sensation, but he’d been anticipating it. I hadn’t even realized that his hands had moved to my hips, but he was pinning me in place now, holding me steady beneath him.
His tongue flicked slow circles around my clit, broken by long, deliberate licks. My head spun, dizzy with desire and longing. Heat spread through me, and I was already so close to the edge when his fingers began to drift with aching slowness over the flare of my hip and down the back of my thigh.
The anticipation of being filled—of feeling my core clench around something—kept me balanced right on the edge, greedily chasing that last bit more before I let myself go. I felt his lips curve into the briefest smile against me, and I knew he could tell exactly how close I was to coming undone.
Teasingly, he lightly circled my entrance once, pulling a whimper from my lips. Then he plunged his finger into me, curling it against that patch of nerves until stars pricked at the edges of my vision.
“Blaise!” I cried out, and only just had enough sense to register his groan of approval at hearing his name before I was falling. Intense pleasure flooded my body, leaving half of me numb and the other half consumed by delicious flames.
My core clenched around his finger, my addled mind demanding Again, again, again!
He pulled his fingers from me, leaving me empty and oversensitive. He tried to bring them to his mouth again, determined to taste—but patience was not a virtue of mine, and I needed him now.
My fingers tangled in his hair, and before he had a chance to protest, I was guiding him up, my hand hooking into the elastic of his sweatpants, demanding they give way.
A second later, the crown of his cock nudged at my entrance, my body still taut with need, oversensitive and aching.
“Caitlyn, if you want to go sl—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” I said, surprising even myself with the firmness in my voice.
Blaise pressed the tip of his cock inside me, his eyes snapping shut as his bottom lip caught between his teeth and he went utterly still.
I half expected another “Gods” to fall from his lips—it was damn close to spilling from mine.
My core clenched in response, the stretch of him slow and teasing, heat licking up my spine as he held there, just enough to make me tremble.
When he finally opened his eyes, his golden gaze found mine, soft and awestruck with something that looked dangerously close to reverence. Then, in a wickedly slow thrust, he pushed forward until he was fully seated inside me.
“Blaise... ” I bit out, unsure whether it was a plea for him to still so I could adjust to the glorious fullness of him, or a command for him to start moving.
Blaise’s eyes fluttered closed, his head tipping back, the scar at his neck pulling taut as he murmured, “Gods... she feels incredible—”
My mind only half registered how strange it was, the way he’d referred to me in the third person. But Blaise seemed to register it all at once. His eyes snapped open, his gaze going unfocused, staring somewhere just past me.
Something tightened in his expression. His features drew inward, a flush creeping up his face as he leaned down, bracing himself on his elbows before kissing me—his mouth firm and almost too controlled.
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
That damn rubber band again.
I barely had time to dwell on it before he buried his face in the crook of my neck. His hips began to thrust, but the rhythm faltered, leaving me a half beat out of sync with him.
When I pressed my fingers gently against his ass, trying to guide him, his movements stayed out of step with mine. It felt like we were reaching for the same moment from opposite directions and with blindfolds on.
His features twisted with frustration, brows drawn tight, eyes squeezed shut as he tried and failed to settle into me.
Just as I was about to tell him it was okay, that we could try again later, he slid out of me. He rolled onto the mattress beside me, the poles of the tent shuddering with the abrupt movement, fabric quivering as if it might collapse entirely.
A frustrated growl tore from him as he dragged a hand down his face before holding it out in front of him and snapping the rubber band hard against his wrist.
I really needed to ask what the band was about—but when his eyes met mine, guilt and embarrassment chasing across his expression, my thoughts were already racing ahead.
The shape of a plant I couldn’t quite identify took root in my mind’s eye, its properties unfolding alongside the sudden understanding of how it would compensate for what my Wailing Whirls were missing.
The mental reset might not have been as magical as I’d hoped, but it had clearly worked.