Chapter 32 #3
Sweat dotted my brow, and my muscles quivered from the tension. The desperation.
“You’re evil,” I panted.
“You love it.” And he was right. I would take this sort of punishment any day. Better still, he was happy to provide it. I could feel his satisfaction through our mate bond, mixing with my own pleasure until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
I was close to sobbing by the time he had mercy on me. When he finally let me come, it was with his fingers curled inside me and his mouth sealed over my clit. I shattered with a cry that probably scared the bunnies in the other room.
He worked me through it, gentle now, until the last tremor faded and I was boneless against the comforter.
“Still think I’m evil?” he asked, pressing kisses up my body.
“Definitely.” But I was smiling, reaching for him. “Your turn.”
“Not done with you yet.” He kicked off his jeans and boxers, then pulled me into his lap so I was straddling him. “Want to see your face this time.”
I rose up on my knees, positioning myself over him. We both groaned as I sank down on his cock, taking him inch by inch until he was fully seated inside me. The first few times together had been an adjustment. But now my body knew him—was used to his size.
“Fuck,” he breathed, his hands gripping my hips. “Will never get tired of this. How feckin’ good you feel.” He punctuated his statement with a slap to my ass that told me to get moving.
I did, starting with slow rolls of my hips that had us both breathing harder. Through the bond, I felt his pleasure building alongside mine, the feedback loop making everything more intense.
His hands moved from my hips to cup my face, pulling me close for a kiss. It was slow and deep, matching the rhythm of our bodies. Not desperate like our first claiming, or wild like some of our sessions this week. Just...sweet. Connected.
“I love you,” I whispered against his mouth, holding his gaze.
“I love you too, sweetheart.” His thumb brushed over my cheekbone. “My everything.”
The tenderness in his voice made my chest tight. I buried my face in his neck, breathing in his scent as I continued to move on him.
“Rebecca,” he murmured, one hand sliding into my hair. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.”
I lifted my head, meeting his gaze. I saw something there I’d noticed all week but hadn’t dared put into words.
Peace.
Because of our bond, I was acutely aware of the change in him. That he hadn’t felt the overwhelming urge to shift and go off into the woods alone. That his skin wasn’t itching with the need to run. That his thoughts were the most coherent they’d been, even after I’d moved into his cabin.
Maybe he wasn’t ready to believe in fairytales, but I did. Because he was mine.
I rode him harder. He groaned, his head falling back against the headboard. “You’re killing me, little witch.”
“Good.” I picked up my pace, chasing pleasure for both of us. I felt when he was getting close, adjusted my angle to take him deeper. Letting him hit that perfect spot that would have me seeing stars.
I couldn’t wait for our future. To spend countless hours getting to know his body. Learning everything he loved. Everything that made him feel good.
“Rebecca—fuck—I’m going to—“
“Do it,” I urged. “Come for me, Axel.”
He did with a roar, his hands gripping my hips, fingers pressing into my flesh as he emptied himself inside me. The feel of it, combined with the pleasure flooding through our bond, sent me over the edge, clenching around him as I shook apart.
My hips slowed until I collapsed against his chest, my forehead pressed to his.
We stayed like that for a long moment, breathing each other’s air. His hand stroked up and down my spine while I traced the tattoos on his chest.
“Better than pumpkin carving?” he finally asked.
I laughed, swatting his shoulder. “Only if you admit that I won.”
He harrumphed then pressed his lips together, unwilling to budge.
“Fine,” I said, grinning against his neck. “You win the pumpkin competition.”
“Damn right.”
“But I won something better.” I pulled back to look at him in time to see his eyebrow lift.
“What’s that?”
“You.” I traced the scar on his face. “A mate who carves pumpkins of my bunnies. Who faced down a cave full of his worst nightmares to help break my curse. Who cooks gourmet meals and makes me come until I can’t remember my own name.”
A huff of laughter escaped him. “When you put it like that...”
“So yeah, you can have the pumpkin victory. I got the better deal.”
“Not sure about that, lass.” His hand slid into my hair. “I got a witch who throws pumpkin guts at my face. Pretty sure I got the better deal.”
A delighted laugh burst from my chest. “In that case, I’ll happily throw pumpkin guts at your face whenever you like.”
“So long as I get to carry you off to bed afterward and worship your body.”
“Deal.” My chest went tight. I kissed him. When I pulled away to look at him, my voice was low as I said, “I guess we both won.”
“Aye,” he agreed, love and contentment radiating through the bond. “We did.”
Outside, the sun began to dip low, turning the trees to fire.