Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

Evelyn

IN THE TIME SINCE MEETING BOWEN, I’VE ENTERTAINED more fantasies about him then I’ll ever admit aloud. Especially after that kiss. The man made me orgasm while dry humping in our clothes as if we were a pair of teenagers necking in the woods. It was humiliating and sexier than it had right to be. Of course it made me wonder what it would be like to properly get him into bed.

Nowhere in those fantasies were him falling to his knees, declaring me a goddess, and then proceeding to worship me with his mouth.

And he is worshiping.

He kisses my pussy with the same thoroughness that he kissed my mouth, tongue, and lips, lavishing attention on every part of me. I love oral sex. I always have. But there are definitely some partners who treat going down on me like it’s either a chore or a task to check off their list. Rare, but no less frustrating, are the people so certain of their skill that they’re more focused on preening than they are on figuring out what I actually like.

Bowen doesn’t fall into either of these categories. I would say that he’s lost himself in the taste and feel of the experience, but when I look down, his dark eyes are searing into me. He is perfectly present. And yet somehow swept away at the same time.

I dig my fingers into his long hair and tilt my hips. He follows my urging with no hesitation, shifting up to my clit. “Soft vertical strokes, use the flat of your tongue,” I murmur.

He growls against my flesh and obeys. I was already teetering on the edge just from kissing him, and with his tongue moving against my clit, my legs start to shake. I bite my bottom lip. Holy fuck, that feels good. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to come and end up in a boneless pile on the floor. Maybe a concussion, too.” I don’t know why I say it. I should just be able to ride this out and accept the orgasm, but the thought of him seeing me like that …

I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

I expect him to stop, or slow down, or maybe even speed up out of sheer arrogance. I should know better. Bowen’s power wraps around me, as gentle as a summer breeze. It loops under the leg I’m supporting myself on and around my waist, perfectly distributing its touch so nothing squeezes me too tightly as he lifts me. He rises to his feet easily. I shriek, but he ignores me. He walks us to the bed and lays me down with so much care that I almost orgasm on the spot. All the while, he never stops licking me.

It’s almost embarrassing how good it is. Which is the strangest thing to feel. There’s no shame or embarrassment in pleasure, but it’s been all of two minutes and my thighs are shaking and little tremors are working through my body as pleasure coils tight in my lower stomach. How the fuck is he doing this? The only other person who’s been able to make me come this fast is Lizzie and only because she can summon my literal blood to where she wills it.

He shifts against me and then two of his blunt fingers press to my entrance. He eases them inside me, obviously testing me. He’s not a small man, and two fingers is enough to stretch me almost uncomfortably. I love it. Especially when he curls his fingers against my inner wall, zeroing on the spot that makes what few thoughts I have left short out.

Then I look down my body and realize he’s not using his hands at all. His magic might be holding me spread out, but his palms are against my thighs.

Which means it’s his magic inside me.

“Bowen—”

The devil of a man finds the perfect rhythm, mirroring his tongue with his magical touch inside me, or maybe the other way around. It feels like the moment when a tsunami sucks all the water out to sea and you’re left standing there, knowing the wave is coming for you while also understanding that you’ll never be able to outrun it. I don’t want to outrun this wave. Even if it terrifies me.

“Don’t stop!” The looming orgasm might actually kill me, but what a way to go.

Bowen’s only response is to give another of those devastating growls that vibrates against my clit. That’s what sends me over the edge, except it’s not an edge at all; it’s a free fall with no end in sight. This isn’t a cute little orgasm that comes and goes between ragged exhales. This is world-ending. It swells and swells, bowing my back and turning my muscles to stone.

And still he doesn’t stop.

Not until a scream rips from my lips, an involuntary reaction that I barely have time to process before my whole body bears down and I squirt all over him. Only then does he change his pace. Bowen doesn’t withdraw his magic, though. He fucks me slowly with it, easing me down without depriving me. When he lifts his face to meet my shell-shocked gaze, the entire lower half of his face is soaked.

His attention tracks down my body as if noting every physical response to that orgasm. I’m shaking like a leaf, but the feeling of his magic inside of me is shifting from comfort to something darker and sexier.

I drag in a breath. “What are you doing to me?”

“Do you want me to stop?” He sounds just as devastated as I am.

I don’t know if that’s a comfort or not. One of us should be steering the ship, but instead we’re two drowning sailors, clinging to a piece of driftwood and hoping for the best. I want to laugh, but I don’t have the energy. “Refer back to my previous comment about smiting you if you stop.”

“Can’t have that,” he murmurs. He looks down to where he’s still fucking me with his magic, one slow stroke at a time. “If you can take more, I have more to give.”

Yep. This man is definitely going to kill me. I will welcome every moment of it. He’ll send me to the underworld with a smile on my face, and what more can a witch ask for? “Give me everything.”

Bowen makes a noise that’s almost a laugh, but it sounds like it’s strangled halfway through. “I don’t have any contraceptive spells on me. I haven’t needed one in quite some time.”

I know it’s just horny hormones fucking with my head, but I have to clamp my lips together to prevent myself from confessing my undying love. Tomorrow, I can remember all the ways I find him infuriating. Right now, he’s too good to be true.

When I’m sure I can speak without embarrassing myself, I clear my throat. “I have one in place. A witch can never be too careful, you know.”

He strokes his big hand up my thigh over my hip to press against my stomach. I would call it a calming touch if he didn’t have two fingers’ worth of magic still buried in my pussy. “Give me a few more orgasms, Evelyn. I won’t last once I get inside you. I need to feel you come again.”

Oh no, he’s not getting away with that. I muster my body into motion and lean up to grab his hand and pull him forward until he covers me. “Are you going to roll over and go to sleep after you come, Captain?”

His jaw drops. “Fuck no. I’ve wanted you too long to be satisfied with a single time. I want you again and again and again, until we’re both too exhausted to fuck.”

I was hoping he’d say that. I kiss him, tasting myself on his tongue. I clench my thighs together, which serves only to drive his magic deeper. “I want your cock. At this point it’s not a want, it’s a need. Please give it to me.”

He props himself up so he can see my face. “You’re a menace.”

“Guilty as charged.” I snake my hand between our bodies and wrap it around his thick length. And it is thick. He’s a big motherfucker everywhere. I tug, and he allows me to guide him by his dick until he’s settled between my thighs.

He’s still fucking me with his magic. I shake. “Is it—”

The feeling inside me shifts. Later, I’ll let my mind be blown by the fact that he’s got magic inside me and it’s bringing only pleasure and no pain or fear. The control required will give me a bit of a meltdown … later.

Right now, I can’t stop whimpering as he uses his magic to part my pussy lips. Opening the way for his cock. And still he keeps up that delicious stroke against my G-spot.

Considering how we started this encounter, it’s so fucking sexy how he holds himself perfectly still as I press his cock down until it notches on my entrance. I drag a single finger down its length and wrap my hand around his base as best I can. I use that hold to guide him closer, guide him into me, inch by devastating inch. He’s wide enough that it’s on the far side of uncomfortable, but I don’t stop. Not when my body is already melting for him.

“Evelyn.” His voice is a ragged gasp. “Evie, you’re killing me.” Before I can ask him if he wants me to slow down, he grinds out, “Don’t you dare stop.”

I don’t stop. I’m not doing most of the work anyway. He’s the one thrusting at my gentle command, filling me so fully that I’m certain I’ll burst into flames. It takes forever and nowhere near long enough for me to envelop him to the hilt. Bowen, my fiercely honorable pirate, holds himself perfectly still over me, in me, as tremors rack his body.

His expression is almost agonized. “You really are a witch, woman.”

I would laugh if I had air to breathe. He might think I put a spell on him, but the feeling is entirely mutual. I can’t get enough of him. Even now, I’m fighting to stay still, to not wrap him up in me until I don’t know where I begin and he ends. I’m so fucking greedy for him that I truly hope what he meant about going all night, because I don’t know if even that kind of marathon will be enough to satiate me. “Bowen.”

Just like that, his shakes still. “Say it again.”

I reach up and he lowers himself enough that I can hook the back of his neck and tow him the rest of the way. When I say his name again, I do it against his lips. “Bowen.”

He rumbles out a sound that’s part moan and part growl. Then he takes my mouth and begins to move between my thighs. For all his comments about going too fast, I’m the one who begins to spiral at the slow slide of his length inside me. He made me come too hard earlier; I don’t know if I ever came back down properly.

It’s all frenzy.

I move on instinct, doing anything to get closer, to hold him to me tighter. He’s obviously of the same mind, because he works his arms between me and the bed, pinning me to his body as he grinds into me. Each stroke is barely a stroke at all, as if he’s trying to reach some secret part of me deep inside and he can’t bear to retreat more than absolutely necessary to thrust again.

I’m moaning. Maybe I’m whimpering. Fuck, I might be speaking some arcane language known only to lovers.

It doesn’t matter, because he understands me. He gives me exactly what I need. Bowen uses his arm beneath my hips to lift just enough to hit—“Yes, there.”

And then I’m coming again and, holy mother of gods, I think I’m squirting again as he grinds into that spot over and over, milking every bit of pleasure from my body. Too good. Everything about this is too good. How am I supposed to walk away now?

You know how, little bird. One foot in front of the other.