Page 102 of The Devil Made Me Brew It
“Always. Surely you can’t think I’ve got a septuagenarian witch fetish.”
“Actually, Ididthink that. The first meeting, when Aunt Jos kept hitting on you and you were all, ‘Oh, I’ll take you on a few dates, Joslyn. I’ll be your escort, Joslyn. Unpaid, of course, as I’m no longer in that line of work, but I’ll happily bone you for free because I’m such a stellar gent!”
“Mushroom?” He lowers his mouth to my throat, kissing and murmuring his way to my ear, every dark whisper sending a pulse of red-hot desire to the downtown pep squad, who’s more than forgiven me for the brief hiatus. “What I’ve got athingfor is adorable, clever, curly-haired witches who drive me absolutely wild at every turn.”
“Do you know a lot of curly-haired witches who drive you wild?”
“Actually, no. Just the one. Which leaves you in quite a bind, doesn’t it?”
“How do you figure? You’re the one with a raging hard-on in the middle of a snowstorm.”
“Andyou’rethe one—theonlyone—who can satisfy this desperate, aching need. Unless, of course, you’re willing to risk disappointing the Devil himself, which is not something to take lightly.”
“No?”
“There are consequences, my lovely little tea witch. Lots and lots of con—ohhh, that is so not fair.”
Hand beneath his apron, I stroke his hard cock, soft and slow, brushing my thumb over the tip, making him shudder.
“No, don’t stop now,” I tease, slowly getting to my knees. “I want to hearallabout these so-called… consequences.” With that, I flip up the apron and take him into my mouth, sucking him slowly, reverently, watching him lose control, one kiss at a time.
“You arenot… playing fair,” he pants.
I pull back and glance up at him over my glasses, the picture of innocence. “Does the Devil want me to start playing by the rules?”
He grips my chin. Drags his thumb across my mouth. Then, in another dark whisper that sets my soul on fire, “Never.”
He drops to the floor and takes me down, pinning me to the rug in front of the fireplace. Gone is the apron. The dress shirt. The Santa hat. He tears off my clothes too, leaving me bare before the crackling flames.
Cupping my face, he presses the softest, sweetest kiss to my mouth and whispers, “I love you, Violet Pepperdine.”
I return the kiss, certain my eyes are shining with the very same light I see in his. The very same love. “I love you too, Devlin Pierce.”
One more smile, and then he descends, claiming me with his kiss, plunging between my thighs in a long, hot stroke that has my hips rolling, urging him in deeper, every cell in my body begging for more.
There’s no dirty talk this time, no flirting, no teasing. Just us. Together. A perfect dance, his mouth hot on my throat, my collarbone, my nipple, everything in me wound tight, buzzing in the best way.
He draws back, cupping my cheek in his big, strong hand, thumb skating across my lips as he fills me again and again, driving me right to the very edge of that high, beautiful cliff.
I arch my back and take him in deeper, harder, faster, and when he kisses me again, I fall, a wild unrestrained tumble right over the edge. I come for him with tears in my eyes, a joyful laugh bubbling out of me, the inevitable snort for the big finish, but I don’t care. I’m so freaking in love with this man, nothing else matters. And when he whispers my name and buries his face in the crook of my neck and shudders against me, coming inside me hot and hard and yes—Ambrosia Divine knew what she was talking about after all—furiously, I close my eyes and send up a prayer of gratitude.
To my grandmother, who gave me my first home, my first safe place in a world that was anything but.
To my sisters and aunts and the people of Wayward Bay, who gave me my next home.
And to Devlin, my Prince of Darkness, my fallen angel, the Devil with a heart of gold who believed in me when I wasn’t sure I remembered how to do it myself.
Now, when I look into his eyes, when I inhale his peppery, dark chocolate scent, when I hear the rich butter of his accent and feel the rumble of his laughter through his chest, I know that I’ve finally found myforeverhome. My heart’s truest desire unlocked. Embraced. Celebrated. And cherished, for the rest of our messy, beautiful, wild, mortal lives.
“It’s really coming down out there,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to my shoulder and nodding toward the windows, where Grumpy and Sunshine laze on the sill, tails swishing. “Cozy, isn’t it?”
Outside, the snow falls in fat, heavy flakes, a beautiful white ballet. It feels like we’re in a cabin at the center of our own private snow globe, safe and warm while the storm blankets the world beyond our door in a winter wonderland.
“Super cozy,” I say. “Just needs one more thing to be absolutely perfect.” I rise from the floor and reach for my clothes, exhausted and happy. Truly, unapologetically, deliriously happy. Then, leaning in for one more kiss, I say softly, “I’ll go put on the kettle.”
