Chapter Twenty-Three

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Cassie thought maybe she would feel calm by the time they returned to her house. After all, she'd had that almighty orgasm. And there was a lot to deal with.

There was the dragon scale they had located, that needed adding to the dehornification brew. And now that they had learned that the Jerks were still very much a threat, she definitely wanted to do something about that. She even knew the potion she wanted to brew—something called Forget Me, that would definitely ensure the Jerks couldn't find them. Or even remember where they lived.

If she did it right.

Which took some doing.

And then there was Pod, who continued fighting with Seth about everything.

She had to listen to them squabbling on the front porch, as she put the finishing touches on her potions. Because obviously, Pod wanted to come inside. In fact, Pod seemed to think he was owed the privilege of coming inside. That inside was his, now that he was her familiar.

And although Seth couldn't understand a word Pod was saying, he got the gist.

And he was skeptical, to say the least.

"You're basically vermin," he shouted as he tried to shoo Pod off the porch. But despite the fact that Seth had a broom and Pod was just a raccoon, Seth clearly did not win the battle. A moment later there was a lot of crashing, and running, and gasping. And then Seth groaned, "Oh god, at least use something other than my shoe to make your nest." Even though there should have been no way for Pod to grab his shoe.

But sure enough, when Cassie turned around from the stove, Seth was wearing just one. While Pod scampered into the cupboard under the stairs with his prize clutched in his tiny hands.

So really, given all the chaos, it should have been easy to avoid feeling the least bit horny.

Yet somehow, she felt as heated as she had in the wardrobe.

In fact, she felt worse. Like she had cracked a door to let one thing through, and now it could not be closed. It was being jammed opened by a million lusty thoughts, and they were all spilling out at once. They were taking her over. She actually found herself stopping the moment she saw him standing there, in the archway between the kitchen and the hall, just to moon over how sweaty he looked. How much his chest was heaving with exertion. How flushed his cheeks were.

And she now fully understood why he kept his eyes above her chin.

Because as he bent over to pick up the broom he'd dropped, her gaze accidentally landed on his butt. And the sight actually made her mouth go dry. She had to take a drink. To force herself to look away. And even after she had, she still couldn't stop thinking about it. About how round and plump it had looked. How tightly his jeans had clung to it. What it would feel like if she slid her hand over that gorgeous curve.

She even found herself justifying it. Well he touched yours , she thought feverishly. And had to practically yell at herself that this was not a fair thing to say. He had been as much of a gentleman about ass-touching as anyone could possibly be.

But she was not wanting to be a gentleman to him. Oh no, not at all.

She wanted to stuff her fucking hand down the back of his jeans.

Or maybe down the front of his jeans.

Or just take his jeans off, yeah, just—

"You know you're totally free to go see to yourself, right?"

She snapped a look to him. As if looking was going to prove that he hadn't actually said that. Or that he'd meant something other than what she thought he meant. But he appeared just as teasing as she'd imagined. He practically had his tongue in his cheek.

And it left her blushing. Then turning away from him so he couldn't see the blush.

"I don't need to go to ‘see to myself,'" she said, and knew she sounded way too defensive about it. She had to add something more just to claw back some dignity. "And even if I did, I've got things to do. I don't have time for sexy feelings that I have under control anyway."

"It doesn't look like you have them under control."

"Well then, you're not looking right. Or you don't know what control is."

"I know it's not ogling my ass the second I bend over. Which, just so you know—I'm not complaining about. In fact, if you want to do it again, please feel free any time you like. I could even do it a little sexier for you. Maybe go slower, or take something off. Or oh, oh, how about run my hand over it, like this?" he asked, and honestly her first instinct was to be mad at him for mocking her.

But then he did the thing.

He turned and sort of brushed his palm over that juicy curve, and she realized. He was serious . He was actually trying to encourage her to look, and to like looking. As if looking were a good thing. And not absolutely terrible and completely off limits. Five minutes and we might have a cure for this , she thought, and then did her best to rein him in before anything got worse.

"Seth, do not run your hand over your ass, for the love of god."

"Why not? I don't mind if you want to get off over my butt."

"Yes, but I do. It feels weird to think about you while I do that."

"And I totally get that. It feels weird to me, too, to consider you in ways that do not go well with every cherished value I have. Usually I do my best to stop myself before I can't look you in the eye the next day," he said, and when he did she thought of him calling out her name. How broken it had sounded. Like he didn't want to give in, but for one second had.

"You don't have to hold back, I don't mind," she rushed out.

That got such a look of triumph from him.

Apparently he'd set a trap, and she'd run right into it.

"Oh, so there's a thing where if you get permission, it's okay?" he said. "As in, I can just say to you now that you're good to go. That it is totally fine by me for you to think about me in any kind of permutation you want?" No , she thought at him, sullenly. But of course her body was already saying yes, before he even continued. "Because it is, you know. You could imagine yourself pinning me down and riding my face, and I'd be fine with it. In fact, that sounds superhot, and like something you should think about more in excessive detail. Go on, picture my tongue fucking your pussy. Picture me groaning deeply as you come all over my face. Picture me coming when you do it. Because you know what? I definitely would."

And after he had she wanted to be furious with him, she did. She even started to say, You can't just keep talking dirty to me like that. I am going out of my mind . Then she saw that he still looked triumphant—like he was winning some battle. And the words died on her lips.

"Fuck," she said. "You're just saying filthy things to get me to go do myself."

"Of course I am. Honestly you'll feel much better once you do."

"Yeah, but you'll hear me. With your super werewolf hearing."

He held up the Vulcan salute. "I swear I won't listen."

"Even though I listened to you?"

"You didn't really intend to. I'm just super loud."

"Yeah, but I am too. Or at least, I am when I'm on my own."

She saw his gaze flash bright. But he kept it together.

He kept things focused on his apparent mission.

"Then I'll wear headphones. And go outside to do what I need to do."

"Fuck—so you're gonna do it too?"

"Dude, I'm almost doing it now ."

She made the mistake of glancing down. Probably because his expression seemed so calm and even. And his voice was so steady. It didn't seem possible that there was anything major going on down there, no matter what he was trying to claim.

But oh dear god, was she wrong about that.

She'd never seen anything like it in her life. It looked as if he had a fist shoved down the front of his jeans. As if he were about to split the seams. And oh, the mess . It was even worse than the one she'd made of herself, back in the wardrobe. She would have thought he'd already come, if he hadn't just said he was merely close.

And that was way hotter than it had any right to be.

She felt as if she should have been disturbed. Instead, all she could think about was getting on her knees for him, immediately. Then taking him in, and licking and sucking and tasting him until he spilled over her tongue, in a way she knew she was way too greedy for.

This was far beyond a normal, sexy urge.

It was unholy, it was impossible, insurmountable.

Understandable given what's going on , her witch brain added.

And this made enough sense to give in to. "Okay, can you just go outside now?" she stumbled out. Because honestly, she didn't think she could make it to the bathroom. The need to get off was so keen-edged, so intense, that she could barely wait until Seth had gone out. She didn't even hear the door close, before she shoved her hand down the front of her jeans.

And it took almost nothing. Just the sound of him groaning, loudly, from somewhere outside. While she slid two fingers over her clit, and stroked, once. Just once, and there it was.

A rolling wave of pleasure, even thicker and sweeter than what she'd felt against his thigh. Oh god yeah—this one, this one made her fly. It made her shudder and hold on to the edge of the kitchen table, and partway through she knew she said his name. She heard herself call it out, like it was his hands on her. Him working her through the best orgasm of her life. Him doing all the things her mind was full of, now that this sex magic had given her permission to fill it up. Now that he'd given her permission to do so.

It's okay , she reassured herself, it's okay .

Then she thought of him coming in her mouth. And in her pussy. And all over her.

And just as she felt the first twinge of shame, she heard him from outside. Saying how much he loved it when he heard her feeling the same.