32. Like Only A Necromancer Can.
thirty-two
Like Only A Necromancer Can...
Archer
For what it’s worth, whenever I picture you, you’re wearing that apron…
With those words, infatuation turns to obsession.
It rings in my ears as Liam steps closer—near enough for me to catch him by the hip and wrench him against me.
I don’t waste another second taking his lips with mine, declaring the adoration for him that’s been building since the moment we met, that was compounded a thousandfold in the car that night, that drove me to near breaking point when I thought I’d lost him.
He drops the diamonds on the table and closes his fingers around the hem of my sweater.
Not enough. I want more. I need more.
I need Liam to never walk out of here like that again. I need to know he trusts me. I need to know I’ve earned him back. That he’s mine.
Mine.
How desperately I’d love to believe that.
That he wants me as much as I want him. All of me, that comes along with all the broken parts.
The death and the life, the supernatural complications, the never knowing what tomorrow’s going to hold or if I’ll survive any of this.
The me that just wants to be normal. Who just wants to date this beautiful man, who’s here, now, in my office, kissing me like he’s as sad this ever happened as I am.
“I’m sorry I got scared,” he says. “I won’t get scared again.”
My heart cracks. Cracks wide open, and Liam pours into it. Fills it up. Spreads out and seals the edges. Makes his home there in the space.
“Stay with me,” I whisper. “Don’t go home. Stay with me tonight.”
He stares up at me with those big brown eyes. “I can’t stay tonight.” His fingers move to my collar, pulling at my top. “But I can stay all day long. And I’ll come back tomorrow. And the next day, and the next. If that’s all right with you?”
Of course he can’t stay. He has to take care of his mother. And it only makes me adore him even more. “That’s so all right, Liam. That’s so perfect.”
He feels too good beneath my hands, grasping at the thick material of his overalls. I want so badly to rip them off him. He tastes too good when his lips part for me, when I drag my tongue over his, when he meets mine with the most delicious resistance.
I should stop. Should almost definitely stop because this is a lot for someone to take in. Prospective boyfriend is a necromancer. Prospective boyfriend accepts stolen goods as payment for getting revenge for dead people. Prospective boyfriend got him into so much life-or-death trouble.
But Liam’s not stopping. He’s pulling my top up, warm fingers on my bare skin, pressing me back against the desk. Taking control, just like he did in the car.
Flashes of that night hit me, the way his brow creased when he was close, the sound of his breath, the feel of his big dick in my palm. And mine’s already hard.
His kisses grow more eager, his hand circling my waistband. I can’t tell if he’s asking for permission or toying with me. But these pants are thin, and I can’t hide anything from him if he takes a step back and looks down.
I don’t know if it’s that concern or the fact that he tastes like coffee, but my arm snakes around his neck, my fingers in his hair as I pull him against me.
“Archer,” he growls out.
The tone of his voice does things to me. Takes away any chance I ever had of hiding this erection from him, especially when he reaches down, when his hands dig into my thighs and he lifts me onto the desk.
Fucking hell.
I thought I’d blown this, and here I am, less than twenty-four hours later, living the actual dream. Liam between my legs, kissing me. Liam, taking a hold of my dick through my pants and, “Fuck, Liam…”
“I’m sorry we fought,” he rasps between kisses, stroking my cock.
I half laugh, half gasp at the feeling of him. “We didn’t fight. Liam, no…”
“I’m sorry I left.”
“Don’t…” God, I can’t even think straight with the way he’s working me. “Don’t apologise. It was… ahhh… my fault…”
“Your fault?”
“Mmmmhmm.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m so sure.”
“Then… you think I should forgive you?” There’s a smile on his lips beneath mine when he says it.
It clicks into place… Make-up sex. But it’s fun make-up sex. Liam didn’t do a thing wrong, and he knows it. But he wants the reassurance we’re solid.
I catch his jaw, pulling back from the next kiss. “What can I do to make you forgive me?”
His smile turns more lascivious than I’d have thought Liam capable of, if I hadn’t been in the car with him a few nights ago.
“Come in my mouth.”
I almost come on the spot.
He doesn’t give me a chance to protest, to argue back, or say, ‘Please, no, I’ve been desperate for a taste of your cock since the second we met, allow me.’
No. He wrenches my pants open, drops to his knees, and I’m halfway down his throat before I can even think of a response. My body turns to fire of the most delicious kind, ecstasy shooting up my spine, tingling through my body in a way I haven’t felt… ever. Not ever.
The sounds he’s making are delicious, so wet and loud, and the way his hand moves over the base of my cock, the exquisite tightness of his mouth…
But it’s more than that. I want him so much.
On a primal, purely sexual level, I’m fiercely attracted to him.
I like who he is as a person. I love how sweet he is, how shy he seems, about anything but sex, apparently.
He’s funny and kind, and I just like him so much.
But this. Jesus, whatever this is, it’s like…
It’s like an energy. It’s an energy that’s pouring out of him, into me, through every pore on my skin, sinking into me from all around.
It’s an ecstasy I want to lose myself in.
His mouth on my cock is pure perfection of the most beautiful kind, but it’s more.
Liam lets out a loud moan, like his enjoyment of my dick is hitting him the same way it’s hitting me, but that’s hardly possible.
I stroke a hand over his hair, encouraging him, and he moves faster in response, his fingers tightening on my thighs, about to bring me to orgasm too quickly. Embarrassingly fast.
That moan rips out of him again, then suddenly he jumps up. His lips slam into mine with a passion that almost bowls me over. “Fuck, why do you taste so good?” he groans. He kisses me again, all tongue, all deliciousness, then drops back down, swallowing me whole.
I let out a loud cry at the shock of it—the pleasure of it.
My head falls back and I have to grip the desk for stability, slipping a little as I try to keep some semblance of control.
But I’m losing it. Losing myself entirely to him.
He’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.
He’s enjoying me as if I’m the one doing this to him.
His sounds of pleasure match mine, sigh for sigh, and if I didn’t feel both his hands digging into my skin, hurting me just right, I’d have thought he was taking his pleasure too.
“Fuck, Liam,” I grunt, partly as a warning, partly because I can’t stop myself.
“Fuck!” he cries out, breaking off again, landing with his chin on my leg. “How are you doing that?”
“What?” But he takes my dick again, and I am so close to the edge I can barely even speak.
A shudder runs through my entire body, and he goes faster and faster, so tight I’m ripping at his hair, repeating his name over and over like it could possibly calm me, ground me.
He brings me to the brink, then just when I’m about to spill, he comes off, breathing hard, his forehead on my leg.
“I’m sorry. I’m…”
I wrench him up, kissing him. “Sorry for what? You’re incredible.”
“No, I’m not… You’re…” He looks away, a little bewildered. “I’m…”
I kiss him again, gently, trying to draw out whatever’s bothering him.
It’s not like he needs to keep going. I’m so, so satisfied already.
Yet he brings his hand back to my cock, strokes me softly, and there’s a slight and delicious shake that moves his shoulders.
His forehead falls against mine, and he whispers, “How are you doing that?”
I cover his hand to pause him because I can barely think. “Doing what?”
“I can…” He shifts his hand again, his brow drawing tight, a soft sigh escaping his gorgeous lips.
“I can feel you.” He tightens his hand, strokes down again, his body trembling with it.
“I can feel what I’m doing to you. Fuck…
Archer…” Another groan sweeps out of him, over my lips, as he presses another kiss.
“Stop. Wait.” I catch his hand, and his head tips forward, his shoulders rising with a deep intake of breath. I tighten my fingers over his, then drag them up, pressing my thumb over my own wet slit. He convulses against me. “You feel that?”
He looks up at me hopelessly, head on my shoulder. “Is this… necromancer stuff? Are you…”
“I don’t know…” I pull my hand away, and his with it.
But he captures mine, presses it to the table. “Are you all right?”
“Liam, I didn’t mean to. I don’t know what this is. I would have told you if I’d thought—”
He cuts me off with a kiss, heated, passionate, and his fingers curl into mine. “I don’t want to stop. Unless you do. Do you want me to?”
“No.” Plain and naked truth.
“No. Good. Fuck.” He drops back down and takes me again, and this is insane.
I can feel all his own pleasure radiating from him, flowing over me, hitting every nerve.
The pleasure he’s giving me. The pleasure he’s giving himself.
It’s this insane echo chamber, more and more bliss reverberating back and forth between us, and I can barely think at all.
Only that I want more. Only that I want to do this for him.
That I don’t want to be the one on the desk.
That I want to take him, wholly, completely.
And that if him giving me a blowjob is just about sending us both over the edge, just think what else I can do…