An Excerpt From Witch's Brew by Tabitha Shay
Ages 18+ ONLY
Saylym flinched as his mouth closed hotly around the aching bud. He suckled strongly, nipping the nipple with his teeth. Heavens. She was headed straight to hell.
"Strawberries and cream," he whispered, and swirled his tongue around the aching bud.
Oh, yeah, straight to hell in a handbag. No directions required. Free passage. She had her boarding pass. All she had to do was get aboard.
Talon wasn't a man to play favorites. He moved to the other breast, bit gently on the straining little berry, then soothed the slight sting with an expert flick of his incredible tongue.
"Sweet," he breathed and fed deeply, rolling the nipple beneath his tongue, savoring the delicious taste of her.
Without conscious thought, Saylym slid her fingers into the silky strands of his dark hair and held him against her bared breast. "I...uh...oh...stars," she cried as he brought his full weight on top of her.
He felt divine and smelled like sin. Rich, inviting sin. He moved his hips in a slow, rhythmic thrust as old as time itself. Slowly, he pressed her knees apart and allowed the hard ridge to settle snugly between her thighs as he rocked gently, moaning against her breasts.
Saylym felt his fingers slip to the waistband of her shorts, release the metal button and zipper, and then dip inside. "I have to touch you, La-Scheme," he whispered against her throat. "Let me touch you."
"Ah...I..." she gurgled, unable to form a complete sentence.
The cutoffs fell away with a brush of his hands. She saw his pupils dilate. His nostrils flared at the sight of the tiny, studded arrow pointing the way.
Not that he needed direction, she thought wildly. He seemed to be blazing his own trail pretty darned well.
Talon slowly followed the direction of the glittering arrow with his index finger, paused at the very tip of it, before sliding underneath to stroke the tiny bud hidden beneath the red satin.
"Ah...I..." she couldn't seem to get past those two words as she arched her body against the slow stroking of his finger. He slipped a second finger inside her, gently stretching her, stroking smoothly in a steady rhythm.
Saylym bucked beneath his touch as he explored the silken sheath of her womanhood. She felt him hesitate as he bumped against the proof of her purity. He muttered something, then slid a hand beneath her buttocks, lifting her hips. Slowly, he stroked the tiny button with his thumb, his fingers thrusting and stroking the velvet heat within.
She moaned, clawing at his shoulders, his hair. "Talon," she gasped his name. Her body convulsed wildly. "I-I..."
"That's it, baby," he encouraged. "Come for me, Saylym. I want to feel you unravel."
A tiny whimper slipped past her throat. He stroked faster, deeper. She shattered in his arms, her body quaking as he held her tightly. "Ssh...it's all right, baby. It's all right."
Tiny whimpers escaped her throat as he withdrew his fingers. "Ssh," he whispered, pulling her close to his bare chest, rocking her until she settled. "I need you, Saylym."
She pressed her face against his warm flesh and wondered vaguely when he'd taken off his shirt. Or had she removed it?
She couldn't halt the moan as he lowered her to the quilt and started over.
His tongue found the underside of her breasts, and he paused to lick her there, before moving slowly down her stomach, straight toward Beulah Land. He paused at the waistband of her thong.
Whimpers of desire tore from her clogged throat. Excited, she waited to see what he would do next. He poured wine on her stomach and then followed the red trails with his tongue, pausing to sip from her bellybutton, swirling and dipping his tongue into the tiny opening.
She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe.
Her body burned as if he'd set fire to it. She wanted him to touch her again. To bring her to that delicious fever pitch and take her over the edge. He glided his tongue down her belly. Any second now she'd do a slow burn, melt into a puddle of steaming, wine-flavored liquid.
The man knew what he was doing.
* * * *
The man was insane with need.
Talon sucked in a deep, ragged breath. She was driving him crazy with those sexy little mewling sounds she kept making. Wildly hungry with desire, he knew he played with fire. And the more he played, the more he wanted to play, and he knew, damn it, he knew, he didn't dare seek his own release or things could get way out of hand.
Still, he pushed her to the brink, to the very edge of completion with his fingers. His mind roared with the clawing need to be inside her.
Saylym moaned. "Please."
"My intent is to please you, lovely Saylym. That has always been my objective."
Talon raised his head and stared down into her passion-clouded eyes. Oh, how he wanted to kiss her. The need was so urgent, so overwhelming, he felt as if he was going to shatter into a thousand pieces.
He fumbled with the zipper on his jeans, released his blood-engorged cock and rubbed it against the portal of her womanhood. He swore he'd take it slow. Just a little. He'd enter her just a little, enough to give them both a taste of the raw heat and friction building to fever pitch between them. Enough to gain his own release, but not so far he couldn't pull back, stop before he was too deep, stop, before he came inside her.
He tore the thong down her legs and tossed it to one side. Then settling between her thighs, he nudged her knees wider apart. The broad head of his cock stroked against the warm channel of her womanhood. By degrees, he pushed inside her, slowly stretching the sensitized muscles.
He rocked gently, working the tip in and out, going a little deeper with each penetration, until the head of his shaft bumped against the flimsy barrier of her virginity. Though he yearned to rip through the fragile membrane, he restrained the urge to thrust. Instead, he pulled back and teased her with the broad head of his cock, slow and shallow, rocking in and out in a torturous rhythm that was delicious agony for both of them.