Chapter 19 #2
The first swipe of Ezra’s tongue is slow and exploratory, like he’s savoring the taste of me.
My fingers tangle in his damp locs as his mouth sends a jolt of ecstasy-laced lightning straight through my core.
The shower spray cascades over us, mingling with the slickness between my thighs, the sound of water muffling the wet, obscene noises he makes as he feasts on me.
My hips rock forward, chasing the pressure of his tongue, the scrape of his teeth against my clit.
A broken gasp escapes me, loud enough that I don’t care if Maceo and Lucien hear.
Ezra said to give them a show and I’m obliging.
Let them know exactly what Ezra’s doing to me, how easily he unravels me with just his mouth.
His hands grip my thighs, spreading me wider, his thumbs press into the soft flesh as he devours me with a hunger that borders on reverence.
The steam curls around us, thick and suffocating, but I don’t care.
All I can focus on is the way his tongue flicks, the way his lips suction around my clit, the way his breath hitches when I clench around nothing.
My knees tremble, but he holds me up, his strength effortless.
“Fuck. . .Ezra—” His name spills from my lips, half prayer, half plea.
He hums against me, the vibration sends a fresh wave of pleasure crashing through me.
His fingers dig into my skin, possessive, claiming, and I love it.
I love the way he marks me, even if it’s just with the imprint of his touch.
When I cum, it’s with a cry that echoes off the tiles, my body shudders against his mouth as he licks me thoroughly through it, like he wants my taste to linger on his tongue for the rest of the day.
My legs are jelly by the time he pulls back, his lips glistening, his pupils blown wide with lust and satisfaction.
I don’t give him time to recover. With a smirk, I push him back against the shower wall, my hands slide down his chest, tracing the hard lines of his abdomen before wrapping around his cock.
He’s thick, heavy in my grip, and the way his breath hitches when I stroke him is intoxicating.
His head thunks back against the tile, his jaw clenched, his fingers flex at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to take control.
“Keisha,” he growls, my name a warning and a plea all at once.
I drop to my knees in front of him, the warm water pooling around me, the tile unforgiving against my skin. “Geez, my knees are too old for this,” I tease, glancing up at him. His cock twitches in my hand, and I lick my lips, eager for a taste. “Guess I’ll just take one for the team.”
His breath stutters as I lean in, my tongue flicks over the head, tasting the salt of his precum.
His hands find my shower cap, resting on top of it to hold himself steady.
I take him deeper, my lips stretch around his girth, my throat relaxes to accommodate him.
The groan he lets out is raw, guttural, and it sends a thrill straight to my pussy.
I hollow my cheeks, sucking him slow and deep, my tongue swirling around the underside of his cock. His hips jerk, just slightly, like he’s trying to hold back, but I don’t want him to. I want him to lose control. I want him to fuck my mouth like he can’t get enough of me.
“Holy enchantments, Keisha,” His fingers tighten around my cap, his voice rough with need. “You’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that.”
I pull back just enough to smirk up at him, my lips swollen, my chin wet. “That’s the idea, Ez.”
His eyes flash with something primal, something possessive, and then his hands are on my shoulders, pulling me up.
Before I can protest, he spins me around, pressing my chest against the cool tile, his body caging me in.
His cock slides between my thighs, teasing my entrance, and I whimper, my nails scraping against the wall.
“You’re not the only one who likes to tease,” he murmurs against my ear. His hand slides between my legs, his fingers find my clit, circling it with maddening precision. “But I’m not done with you yet.”
I arch back against him, my body already aching for more, my mind hazy with need. “Then don’t stop,” I breathe.
“Press your thighs together,” he commands, his voice rough against the shell of my ear, the vibration of it sending a shiver down my spine.
I obey without hesitation, squeezing my legs tight, the muscles trembling with anticipation.
The slick heat of his cock slides between them, pressing against my sensitive flesh, and I can feel every inch of him as he rocks against me.
“The next time I’m inside you,” he murmurs against my ear, “there won’t be anything between us.”
“I’m a Witch,” I pant. “I can protect myself.”
His hands grip my hips, fingers digging into my skin as he uses the tight squeeze of my thighs to get himself off.
The friction is delicious, the way his cock glides between my legs, the head brushing against my clit with every thrust. I moan, the sound echoing off the tiles, my body pushing back against him, my ass pressing into his groin.
His breath is hot against my neck, his lips brushing against my skin as he groans.
He thrusts into me rapidly, his hips snapping against mine, the pace relentless.
His fingers circle my clit, stroking me in time with his thrusts, the dual sensation sending sparks of pleasure shooting through my body.
My orgasm builds, the pressure coils tight in my belly, my breath comes in short, sharp gasps.
“Ez,” I whimper, my voice barely audible over the sound of the shower and our ragged breathing. “I’m close.”
His response is a growl, his fingers work me with maddening precision, his cock slides between my thighs, the friction pushes me higher and higher. His body tenses behind me, his muscles coil tight, his breath hitches in his throat.
Before I know it, we’re both cumming, my head falls back onto his shoulder, my body shudders against his.
His release is hot and thick, sliding down my thighs, the sensation sends another wave of pleasure crashing through me.
His arms wrap around me, holding me tight as we ride out the aftershocks, the shower spray washes away the evidence of our passion, but not the memory of it.
His lips find my neck, his teeth graze against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice rough with satisfaction. His heart pounds against my back, his breath warm against my skin.
By the time we make it downstairs, the house is warm in that familiar, comforting way that feels less like magic and more like something that simply knows how to take care of the people inside it.
The floors don’t creak beneath our feet, the walls seem to hum with contentment, and even the morning light filtering through the windows has a golden quality that makes everything feel softer, more intimate.
Maceo is already in the kitchen, already dressed for a day at his shop.
He leans back against the granite counter with a steaming mug in hand, broad shoulders relaxed in a way that speaks of deep satisfaction, his dark hair pulled back in a low ponytail.
His eyes flick up the moment we walk in, that predatory awareness that’s so fundamentally Wolf catching every detail.
There is a split second where his gaze sharpens as he takes us in, the way Ezra’s hand rests possessively at the small of my back, the flush still lingering in my cheeks, the satisfied looseness in my limbs, and he sniffs the air delicately, reading the story written in scent and body language.
Then a slow, devastatingly knowing grin spreads across his face.
“Well,” he drawls, setting his mug aside with deliberate care as he pushes off the counter, green eyes dancing with mischief, “looks like someone had a very good morning.”
Heat climbs straight up my neck, spreading across my cheeks like wildfire. Ezra’s quiet amusement radiates behind me, his fingers give my hip a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
“I’m not the only one, Maceo,” I tease back, trying to regain some semblance of composure. The man has the audacity to stick his tongue out at me, lifting his eyebrows in a way that’s so suggestive it should be illegal, his grin widening into something absolutely wicked.
A quiet laugh sounds behind us, rich and smooth as aged whiskey, as Lucien steps in from the adjoining room, adjusting the cuff of his perfectly pressed sleeve with practiced ease. His eyes flick between the three of us, amusement lingering just beneath the surface.
“We did give you your privacy,” he adds smoothly, as if that explains everything, though the slight curve of his lips suggests he’s far too pleased with whatever he and Maceo got up to. “And we. . .entertained ourselves quite thoroughly.”
“I missed it,” I pout dramatically, reaching for the coffee waiting on the counter, grateful for something to do with my hands. The ceramic is warm against my palms, and I wrap my fingers around it like a security blanket.
Maceo chuckles, a sound that rumbles up from deep in his chest, closing the distance between us in two easy strides. His hand wraps protectively around my waist, fingers splaying wide across the soft curve of my hip as he leans in just enough to press a quick, warm kiss to my temple.
“The next time we fuck, I promise to put on a show for you, Beautiful,” Maceo whispers against my skin, his breath hot and devastating, heating me up all over again with the promise in his voice. Because yes, yes please. The mental image alone is enough to make my knees wobble.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” I reply with a huff of growing sexual frustration, though I’m already melting into his touch despite myself.