Witch Blood - By Anya Bast Page 0,33
his eyes.
Isabelle closed her eyes, too, enjoying the musky scent and taste of him, and the way his body tensed in pleasure. She petted his taut balls as she ran her tongue and lips over him, loving the way she could bring this powerful witch to heel, render him senseless, with only the stroke of her mouth.
It was better than magick.
Strong fingers dug into her upper arms, dragging her upward. “You do that well,” he murmured with half-lidded eyes, “but now I want a turn.”
“I’m not one to object.”
He guided her to sit on the edge of his desk, pushed her skirt up to her waist and pulled her panties down and off her legs. The silk whispered over her skin and then was gone.
He held her gaze as he slid his hands up her thighs and slowly parted them. Cool air bathed her already throbbing, needful sex.
Holding her knees well apart, Thomas leaned in and dragged his lips from her inner knee upward, flicking his tongue occasionally to taste her skin. When he reached the apex, he yanked her to the extreme edge of the desk and buried his face in her heat, making her gasp and moan. The sight of his dark head moving between her thighs almost undid her.
His skillful tongue found her clit and licked as he braced her thighs open with strong hands. Isabelle arched her back and sought the opposite edge of the desk, papers, pens, and office paraphernalia be damned. It all slid off, clattered to the floor.
He found the opening of her sex, slick and warm with honey, and rubbed the sensitive area until she threw her head back on a moan. Then he slid two fingers inside, the way she wanted his cock, and thrust in and out while he tongued her swollen, aroused clit.
Her fingers were white where she gripped the desk. The rest of the world fell away as she rode the edge of a swiftly cresting climax. He found her G-spot with unerring accuracy and dragged his fingertips over it. She bucked, sighed, and moved her hips in time to his thrusts, completely swamped and overtaken by sensation.
Her climax tingled through the base of her spine and then exploded upward, engulfing her body in a sweet wash of pleasure that had his name spilling from her lips over and over. He rode her through it, unrelenting in his attention to her already climaxing sex, driving her orgasm harder and faster until she had to stifle her cries so she didn’t bring the whole Coven running.
While the waves of her powerful orgasm still gripped her and her muscles had the consistency of warmed butter, Thomas flipped her to lay facedown across the desk. The papers, folders, and pens she hadn’t cleared the first time showered to the floor. Neither of them cared.
He pressed the head of his cock against her opening and she spread her thighs wider for him, caught in a haze of decadent pleasure and physical need. The heels she wore made up the difference in their heights, making this position perfect and highly erotic.
She laid her flushed cheek against the top of the cool, smooth desktop and curled her fingers around the edge. “Yes,” she breathed, closing her eyes.
Thomas grabbed her hips and, inch by incredible inch, impaled her on his cock. Her thighs hit the edge of the desk and her rear made contact with Thomas as he hilted within her. He stilled, allowing her body to stretch to accommodate his width and length.
“That’s good, Thomas,” she managed breathlessly. He filled her so deliciously it brought tears of pleasure to her eyes. She was no angel, but it had been a while since she’d been with a man.
“Not as good as this.” He pulled out slowly and pushed back in. They both groaned. He set up a slow pace that allowed her to feel every luscious inch of his cock as it tunneled in and out of her.
Every inward thrust made her mind stutter and her breath come quick as he pushed her closer and closer to climax. He overwhelmed her body with pleasure, by the slow glide of his cock and how the head of it rubbed her G-spot in this position.
By the time she’d lost the ability to think at all, trading cognition for pure sexual sensation, he’d increased the pace of his thrusts, taking her harder and faster.
She hung on, her thighs hitting the desk on every primal, animalistic push of his