100% That Witch - Celia Kyle Page 0,57

lightning to her core.

“Oh god, Nero,” she groaned, her body writhing under him and her eyes rolling in their orbits.

Nero’s touch was exhilarating, almost as if he knew her body better than she did. And the best part was that they were just getting started.

“You taste delicious,” Nero whispered into her ear, his right hand trailing down to her stomach.

He stretched his fingers wide, slid them under her thong’s elastic band, and it was as if thunder and lightning had exploded inside her head. When he pressed down on her clit, every single nerve ending she possessed bloomed like a spring flower as bright lights exploded behind her eyes.

“I need you,” she breathed, her whole body burning for Nero. Hell, she didn’t even know it was possible for a woman to be as wet as she was. She needed some release, and she needed it right now.

Before Nero could tell her to be patient, Tiffany lunged for him, shoving him back against the cushions with a surprised look on his face and ripping those damn jeans off like a wild animal in heat. For all practical purposes, she was, and she wasn’t ashamed to admit it. The jeans had barely landed on the floor before she tugged his boxer briefs down far enough for his cock to spring free.

“Holy shit,” she muttered, her eyes widening at the sight of him. Unable to restrain herself, she wrapped her fingers around his hard length, enjoying the way his flesh throbbed against her palm. “You’re so—”

“I’ll be gentle,” he said, pulling her down on top of him. “But are you sure that you—”

She laid a finger across his lips.

“I’m sure,” she whispered, straddling him once more.

Still holding his cock, she angled it up and pressed the tip against her wetness. She took her time easing herself down, her lungs working overtime to get the air in, and once he was fully seated inside her, she released a groan of intense pleasure. It felt even better than she fantasized about.

In that moment, her mind came to a screeching halt, all the incessant chatter she’d grown so accustomed to finally quieting down. The nagging feeling that she didn’t fit anywhere, or with anyone, disappeared. That dark, cold belief she was “weird” evaporated into the ether. For the first time since she was a child, she felt truly free.

And it was magnificent.

She rocked her hips in a slow tempo at first, Nero matching her rhythm by thrusting upward. As he promised, his movements were gentle and tender, though with a certain aggressiveness to them. Once her body had grown accustomed to his size—and it happened fast, much to her surprise—Tiffany realized she didn’t want Nero to hold back. No, she wanted everything he had to give her.

“Don’t hold back, Nero. Don’t—”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence.

Her view flipped from looking down to looking up before she could even blink. Nero hovered over her, his fangs descending past his lips, a hungry look in his eyes. But she wasn’t afraid. She’d never felt safer in her life. Lacing her legs around his hips, she pulled him toward her, and he didn’t hesitate. In one strong move, he buried himself inside of her.

Tiffany screamed so loudly her throat would be sore for days. But she didn’t care. She needed more of him, all of him. And she got it. To be at Nero’s complete mercy was worth whatever discomfort she might experience later.

Clenched in that fierce embrace of theirs, whatever barrier existed between them dissolved. They rode that imaginary line that led straight into oblivion, and this time they didn’t hold back. When they reached the edge, they closed their eyes and jumped past it.

Together.

Blood thrummed in her ears as her body convulsed around Nero, as he convulsed inside her, their bodies slick with sweat, their lungs heaving for air. The sound of the crackling fire was almost drowned out by the silent processes of her own body.

They lay in each other’s arms for several deliciously eternal moments, neither wanting to break the spell. Tiffany finally caught her breath and half-laughed.

“That was…” She couldn’t think of a word that would fully do justice to what had just happened between them. Amazing? Weak. Fantastic? Feeble. Awesome? Lame.

“Perfect,” Nero said. “It was perfect.”

Twenty-Two

And it was.

As close to perfection as anything she had ever felt. Had ever imagined.

Even the furtive, secret fantasies she had allowed herself in the small, silent hours of Hollow House midnights could never have anticipated this.

As