39
Finn
The sight of Soleil kneeling before me makes my own knees buckle.
So much wicked pleasure in those emerald eyes, so much sensual cunning, as if she can see just how very close to losing it I am with a single glance.
Knowing my witch, she probably can.
There’s no hiding it from her, no reason to pretend.
I’m entirely hers, and she must know that.
“Sit.” She gestures to the padded bench at the foot of my bed.
It’s only there for decoration.
Or so I thought.
I obey, and Soleil crawls toward me on the plush rug.
Something in my brain whites out entirely.
Seeing my witch crawl to me, seeing her come to me so eagerly, so wantonly, sends a hard spike of arousal through my veins.
I breathe deeply through clenched teeth and will myself to calm down, though it barely does any good as she reaches me and uses my bent knees to push herself back up into a kneeling position.
My hands reach out of their own accord to bury themselves in her hair and tip her head back, squeezing even harder when she smirks at whatever it is she sees on my face.
“Hands at your sides,” she orders in a seductive murmur. “Don’t touch me until I say you can touch me.”
It’s nearly impossible, but I obey. I pull my hands from the soft, thick mass of her hair and lay them down beside me.
“Good boy,” Soleil purrs.
Pleasure snaps through my body, hot and electric.
Goddess, why do I like that so much?
I want to be her good boy.
I want to please her.
I want to spend the rest of my life giving her anything and everything she could ever need.
In a sudden, blinding flash of clarity, it hits me.
This is what I was made for.
I was made to love this witch, to take care of her, to make sure she’s always supported and cherished and looked after.
Soleil, oblivious to those revelations, still has her eyes on my cock, a devious little smile turning up the corners of her lips.
“Good behavior deserves a reward.”
Before I can guess what she means, she shifts even closer.
Her head dips down, but before her lips part she looks up at me, her half-hooded emerald eyes sending a jolt of arousal through me.
“How about something else?”
I nod.
Or, at least, I mean to nod.
I’m not exactly sure what my body is doing right now.
But my hands are planted by my sides and I’m trying my best to be her good, good boy as she cups and lifts her breasts.
She settles them around my cock, and I can’t do anything to stop the groan that slips out of me, the way my hips ache to thrust.
Soleil smirks again. “Good?”
“You have—” I pant, still trying to get a hold of myself, “—no idea, sunshine.”
She works me like that for a few moments, moving on me, searching for a rhythm before a frown forms on her lips.
“Do you have any lube around here?”
“Lube?” I’m not familiar with the term.
Or perhaps I am.
Right now, with the way all my thoughts are misfiring, there’s really no way to tell.
Little patches of pink stain Soleil’s cheeks. “Um, body oil, maybe? Something that will make this… slippery?”
“Ah.” Understanding dawns, and my cock gets even harder, if such a thing were possible. “Top drawer of my nightstand. The stoppered glass jar.”
She stands and goes to get it, but when she returns, she doesn’t sink back to her knees.
Instead of using the oil on me, she pours it over herself. In the lush, delectable valley between her breasts, over the mouth-watering swells. It makes her skin glow, slick and golden.
She keeps herself there, right at eye-level, letting me watch as she massages it into her skin, as she teases her nipples into magnificent, rosy peaks.
Goddess, I wish I could use my hands.
I wish I could help her, take that oil from her and make sure she’s fully coated, glistening and delectable in the candlelight.
But she hasn’t given me permission, and I’m nothing if not entirely spellbound and ready to do just as my witch bids me.
Still, when she sinks to her knees and places a last drizzle of oil directly into her cleavage, I have a moment of weakness.
It’s entirely out of my control, the way my arms twitch forward and how keenly my fingers ache to touch.
“Hands,” she murmurs again. “Remember where I told you to put them?”
“I remember,” I say gruffly.
“Good.” A smile, so devious and satisfied, as my witch wraps her hand around my cock and nestles it between her breasts.
The feel of her like this is incredible.
Soft swells of flesh, slippery and smooth and warm as she moves herself up, and down. Up, and down. An unfamiliar sensation, but so fucking good.
Unbelievably fucking good.
On each upstroke, she catches the tip of me in her lips, sucks and licks and drives me out of my goddessdamned mind.
A sound rasps out of my chest, something that sounds undeniably like a whimper.
Goddess.
The way I let myself be undone by this witch.
The ways I would let myself be undone by this witch.
Any way. Every way. Anything she wants from me, it’s hers.
Soleil pulls her mouth from my cock, plumps her breasts together and works them around my shaft. “Are you close?”
Another sound—another whimper—and I’m so far past the end of my control I’m surprised I can even form words.
“Yes. Fuck. Yes, I’m close, I’m going to—”
“You can touch me.”
My hands replace hers, cupping her breasts while I thrust against her. Thrust between her beautiful tits, thrust into the warm wet of her mouth, entirely out of my mind.
My balls ache, and pleasure builds low in my spine. A few more moments is all it would take.
But as much as I’d like to finish just like this, spend myself here between her breasts and see my come painting her chest and throat, I want something else more.
With a deep groan, I make myself drop my hands, pull back, breathe deep, and keep myself from falling off that edge.
Soleil, as if she can see the internal battle I’m fighting, sits back on her heels and waits for me to regain some semblance of control.
“You didn’t want to—”
“Fuck, no,” I breathe, too far gone to worry about interrupting her. “Of course I wanted to. But not this time.”
Her eyes sparkle with understanding, and she surges up to claim my mouth.
I bury my hands in her hair, pull her closer, encourage her even higher, onto my lap.
The wet heat of her presses against my shaft, and I rock into her, straddling her thighs over mine until I can hit the right spot to make her moan and writhe on me.
“How do you want me?” Soleil asks breathlessly, lips pressed to mine like she can’t stop kissing me long enough to get the question out.
“Kneeling,” I murmur into the kiss. “Elbows down on the mattress.”
Fuck, I want that more than anything.
I want my mate to let me claim her.
To claim me in return.
There’s something almost primal about the urge. From the deepest, most instinctual part of me, it demands to be appeased.
She nods, still kissing me, and finally manages to disentangle herself with a breathless giggle. I take her by the waist and flip our positions so she’s belly-down on the blankets and furs, skin slick with perspiration and flushed with pleasure.
Soleil raises to her forearms and knees on the bed, and my heart nearly seizes in my chest.
I don’t know where to look first.
The plump swell of her ass, the hot pink slit between full thighs, the graceful curve of her back.
The look she gives me over her shoulder.
Emerald eyes burning with need, glassy, her lips parted, breath coming in shallow, panting gasps.
“Please, Finn.”
I’m lost.
Helpless to do anything but drape myself over her, line myself up at her core. I thrust into her and her soft body ripples with the force of it. She cries out, arches back into me, and her fingers tangle in the soft bedding.
I pause. “Too much?”
“Not enough,” she nearly wails. “More. Please.”
“How much, sunshine?” I ask through gritted teeth as I ease out, then back in. Slowly, so I can draw out her pleasure and make sure she’s alright. “How much of me do you want?”
“All of you.”
My heart lodges in my throat, and my knot aches as I slide deep enough within her to press the swell of it to her entrance.
“You think you can take my knot?”
She nods, desperate as she cants her hips again, straining to take more of me.
“Soleil,” I groan, draping myself over her and kissing a trail up her spine to the nape of her neck and the sensitive little spot beneath her ear that makes her shiver. “Do you know what you’re asking for?”
“I do,” she says, breathless but certain. “And I know you’ll take care of me. I know you’ll make it good.”
I’ll make it good for her if it kills me.
If it’s the last damn thing I ever do, I’ll make it good for her.
With that silent vow lodged into my very soul, I ease back into her, press my knot deeper, and make pleasing my witch my singular goal in life.
It’s the only thing that matters. The reason I exist.