Page 110 of Hexed Up

“Screw the potion. Screw everything else. Molly, I have to have you.”

It’s exceedingly cheesy, but the way he says it sets everything pulsing between my legs.

“Then what are you waiting for?” I tell him.

He steps inside my flat and kicks the door shut with his foot, which has me whimpering because it’s so seriously hot. Then he’s striding through my flat towards my bedroom.

McGruff lifts his head from his paws and yaps again.

“Go to sleep,” I tell him. “This does not concern you.”

I’m sure my dog is judging my choices and my morals, but right now, I don’t care about any of those things. Not when Horatio’s mouth is on my throat and he’s kissing and sucking, nibbling and biting, and I’m so desperate for him that I’m already grinding my hips against him, wanting some kind of friction, some kind of release.

He lowers me down onto the mattress, and I thank all my lucky stars I had the good sense to tidy my bedroom today and make the damn bed.

“Will you let me fuck you in your boots?” he says, towering over me and holding my foot in his hand.

“Absolutely not,” I tell him.

He groans, then slowly undoes my laces. Such a trivial thing, and yet the way he does it – his eyes dark with lust, his fingers taking their time, seductively loosening each lace andthen carefully sliding my boot from my foot – has me literally shivering with desire.

He does the same with the other boot, then toes off his own shoes and climbs onto the bed with me.

“Oh, Dragon’s fiery breath!” I tell him. “Please take your clothes off.”

“I’d rather you took them off, Molly.”

He doesn’t need to ask me twice. My hot little hands are scrabbling at the buttons of his shirt, ripping it open, and tugging it down his arms. I sigh at the spectacular chest and that solid abdomen on show, my hands swimming over every groove and bulge of muscle as I satisfy myself exploring him.

He reaches for me and starts to free each button of my dress, his blue gaze growing darker and darker with every one he undoes. Then my dress is hanging open, and I thank those lucky stars a second time that I had the good sense to wear a matching set of underwear – the same neon-pink bra I’d been wearing when the love potion exploded, with a matching pair of little knickers.

He groans.

“I’ve been dreaming about this bra,” he says, yanking my dress down my arms and flinging it to the floor.

We’re kneeling on the bed, facing each other, both exploring each other’s bodies with our gazes.

I bite my lip and let my hands trace over his chest, down his stomach, to the waist of his trousers. He inhales sharply as I snap open the button and lower his zip. I yank them down to his knees, then he has to take over from there, stripping them from his legs and throwing them aside.

I’m in my underwear with Mr Hottie and Mr Hottie is undeniably scorching hot. My fingers are literally burning every time I touch him.

“Please take off your boxers.”

I have to know if he’s as big as I’ve been imagining, as big as I’ve been deducing from all the various shenanigans we’ve already done.

He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and pulls them down his thick thighs. His cock springs up immediately.

It is, I’m pleased to confirm, the biggest cock I’ve ever come face to face with in my entire life. I love it. Not only is it lengthy and girthy, but just like the rest of Mr Horatio Shaw, it’s beautiful too. It has a curve to it that is inviting and the skin looks as soft as velvet.

It is also pierced.

“What the Hexes!” I cry out, gaping at the barbell piercing the skin right below his cockhead. “I did not think you were serious!” He simply smirks at me. “I thought you were such a good, clean-cut, sensible sort of man! Does your mother know?!”

“No, Molly, she doesn’t. And can we not talk about my mom when–”

“Please put that inside me,” I beg, “before I expire of sexual frustration.”

“You’re sexually frustrated?” he asks.