Page 66 of The Ghost and the Graveyard (Knight Games 1)
Pure bliss. I went to work. Anything I did to him echoed through me, spurring me on. I hollowed my cheeks and found a rhythm, sucking and licking, swirling my tongue around the tip. I stroked a finger up his inner thigh, teasing between his legs with one hand and wrapping my other around the part of him that wouldn't fit into my mouth. Harder, faster, around and around.
A guttural whimper escaped Rick's throat, elation crafted into a command that only made me work harder to please him. He cradled my neck as the orgasm rippled through me. I tossed my head back into his hands and felt his release echo my own. Through half-closed eyes, I watched him shiver, then collapse to his knees in front of me.
More Than I Wanted To Know
When he'd recovered, Rick retrieved a towel from his bedroom and cleaned me up. The connection faded gradually, and my logical mind brought me back to the reality of what just happened.
"I...I've never done anything like that before," I said. Heat crawled up my neck and settled in my cheeks.
His eyes widened and he blew a puff of air out his nose, tipping his head to the side. "You are very good at it, mi cielo."
"That was, I mean, it wasn't... You were in my head! What was that?"
"I think dinner is ready. Let me make you a plate."
He walked into the kitchen, but the more time I had to think about it, the louder every alarm in my head blared. "Rick, did you drug me?"
"No! I would never do such a thing," he snapped.
"Then tell me what that was!" I yelled. Something in me knew this wasn't normal. I had wanted it to happen. I'd enjoyed it. I didn't regret it. But something had lowered my inhibitions. What happened was almost beyond my control.
"I was hoping this conversation could wait a little longer," he said.
"So, you do have something to tell me! A secret."
"You know?"
"Logan told me."
"Who is Logan?"
"Never mind. Say it. What is it that you are supposed to tell me?"
"It is about you, Grateful. About who you are and where you come from."
"What?" I narrowed my eyes, feeling my entire face tense.
"Please, sit down." He waved his hand toward a chair at the table.
"I'm listening," I said, taking a seat. I was fully dressed. He was naked from the waist down.
Rick reached for his glass, draining the thick red liquid in two swallows. "Remember when I told you about Reverend Monk and the people of Red Grove? About how they were starving to death?"
"I remember." What did this have to do with the fact that he just mind-fucked me?
"Things were miserable. Children were dying. The congregation had prayed and prayed. No help came. Reverend Monk decided the drought was the work of a witch, and it so happened that there was a witch in Red Grove."
I rested my chin in my palm. "You mean a person who practices Wicca, right? There are a few nurses on my floor who are Wiccan."
"No. I mean a queen of the damned. A natural sorceress so strong that no practice could define her."
"Oh, come on." I rolled my eyes.
"I'm telling you the truth."
"You're saying there was a real, spell-casting witch in Red Grove? Don't insult my intelligence."
I tried to stand, but he stretched across the table and pressed me back into my seat. "Calling her a witch is an understatement. Her name was Isabella Lockhart, and she was more powerful than any to walk this earth. She was a sorceress of the dead and, although Monk didn't know it, she had been protecting the town of Red Grove for years from the supernatural beings passing through these woods."
