Witcha Gonna Do? (Witchington #1)(51)

Tilda—who always has something to say—lets out a shaky breath and rolls back, spreading her legs. I’m between them a heartbeat later, kissing and teasing my way up to the promised land. I could get drunk on just the smell of her, but I’m a greedy bastard and I want to do a helluva lot more than make out with her inner thighs.

“Gil,” she pleads as she lifts her hips up off the bed. “Please.”

I’m an asshole, but not the kind that would leave her wanting when I could give her exactly what she needs. “I got you.”

I get off the bed and onto my knees before grabbing her ankles and pulling her to the edge of the mattress and putting her legs over my shoulders. Then, I spread her open with my thumbs, stretching her wide as she lets out a soft mewl of pleasure, and skim her clit with my tongue. Fuck, she tastes so sweet. I take my time, slowly curling my tongue around it, circling her clit, licking it, lapping at it, and sucking on it while I circle her entrance with the tip of my thumb. At first, she’s grasping at the bedsheets, fisting them as she makes encouraging moans. Then, I move from my thumb to my fingers, fucking her with one, then two, then three as I tease her clit with my tongue, keeping the pace slow and steady. I know I’ve hit the right rhythm when her breathing changes and she rocks her pussy against my face.

“Gil,” she all but moans my name, her tone threading that fine line between desperate and I’ll-murder-you-if-you-change-a-damn-thing. “Please.”

I understand the assignment and keep alternating sliding my fingers home inside her warmth with working her clit with my tongue, feasting on her, worshipping her. She goes from holding on to the bed to threading her fingers through my hair and holding my face in place as if there is anywhere else in the world I’d want to be at this moment. I’m in heaven and she’s about to break. I can feel it as her thighs quake on either side of my head. Her moans change when I speed up and increase the pressure on her clit. Going higher and faster, she all but turns my name into a mantra that even a fool could translate into “don’t you fucking stop.”

Then she’s bucking against me, her legs squeezing my head as she comes, but I keep going, indulging in her orgasm and taking more than my fill. I lick softer now, a little slower and more gently, building her pleasure up again, pushing her right to the edge. She’s almost tugging out my hair as she rubs herself against my mouth. I could be bald by the end of the night and I’d be more than okay with that—totally worth it to feel Tilda come apart beneath my tongue. Just the idea of it has my cock aching, and I reach between my legs, wrap my fingers that had been inside her around my dick, and give it hard stroke after hard stroke. Then, almost sooner than I’m ready, she calls out my name again a second before her body tenses again with another climax.

I’m harder than I’ve ever been before and I can still taste Tilda on my lips when I pull back and slide her legs off my shoulders. She’s watching me, her eyes hooded with blissed-out desire and a satisfied smile curling her lips.

She straightens her glasses and lets out a happy sigh. “You made my glasses go wonky.”

I shoot her a fake look of apology. “It won’t happen again.”

“That’s too bad,” she says, rolling up into a sitting position and leaning forward so her mouth is only inches from mine. “I was really looking forward to coming that hard again.”

I cup the back of her head, tangling my fingers in her hair and pulling so her face is tilted upward toward me. “Greedy girl.”

She just grins. “You bet your ass.”

I crash my mouth down on hers, kissing her hard and thoroughly. She more than meets the challenge, teasing me with her tongue as she wraps her legs around my waist. It’s good—so damn good—but my dick is pressed up against the mattress instead of her soft, slick slit. This is not gonna work, well, it would at this point, considering I’m more turned on than I have ever been before in my life, but me coming all over the sheets is definitely not how either of us wants this to go.

I snake my hands underneath her, cupping her ass with the reverence that a gift of the fates like it deserves, and lift her as I stand up.

“Gil.” She nips at my earlobe, then kisses it better. “Are we going to make out naked or fuck?”

“You say that like we can’t do both.”

“Challenge accepted,” she says as she lifts her hips and reaches between us, encircling my cock with her hand and then lowering herself on it.

If there wasn’t a wall behind me, we would have ended up in a pile on the ground, because the feeling of being inside her is so amazing that it doesn’t just make my knees weak, it takes them the fuck out. If I were a better man and we were going to be together for as long as I am beginning to want, I’d ask about kids, begin the discussion about a pregnancy spell. The fact that I’m even thinking about it should scare the shit out of me, but all it does is make me want everything with Tilda that I can’t have.

Then she yanks me back to the here and now by kissing me again as she rides my cock, planting her feet on the wall for better leverage as she fucks me hard and fast. It’s good, almost too good, because if I don’t take over, I’m going to blow before she comes again and that’s not gonna happen.

Without breaking the kiss, I carry her over to the bed and lay her down on her back and pull out of her as I break the kiss. Losing contact, even though I know I need to, is like having an iceberg smashed against my skull. It hurts like almost nothing else I’ve ever experienced. Desperate to be back inside her, I flip her over onto her stomach, grab her hips, and yank her back so I’m there at her opening. On the inhale, I relish that anticipation of knowing what’s coming next, and on the exhale, I’m sliding forward as her pussy grips my cock. I keep going until I’m balls deep. Perfect isn’t the correct word for how we fit—neither of us is perfect, but it’s as close to that as possible.