Page 112 of Hexed Up

“Well, fuck me,” he says, lifting his head from the pillow to admire me. “That is some view.”

“Is there any way it could be improved?” I say, tossing my hair over my shoulder.

“I think you know there is.”

“No idea, really.” I drum my fingers on his stomach. His cock twitches impatiently inside me.

“Move, Molly Eccleston,” he growls, in such a commanding voice that I nearly come all over again.

I lift languidly up onto my knees. I want to take this slowly. I want to tease him. I want to make him suffer like he’s been making me suffer. But I’m wound up so tight that I’m incapable of doing so. His cock – that damn piercing – rubs against every tender, sensitive part inside me and I cry out before slamming back down on him.

He grunts, his eyes sparking. “Molly, you’re the most–”

But I lean forward and press my fingers against his lips again. Then I’m bouncing on him, up and down, up and down, his strong arms guiding me, supporting me, his hips lifting to meet mine every time we collide. My rickety old bed squeaks and squeals in protest, the headboard knocking against the wall, and the sounds from our own mouths are no quieter.

My gaze never leaves his face. He is the most beautiful man I’ve ever got naked with. He’s probably the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my life. I can’t believe he’s lying naked in my bed and I’m riding him like my life depended on it, like I’m making a very dirty dream come true. Which I most definitely am!

One of his hands slides round my waist and he dips his thumb between my folds, pressing against my stiff nub. Then I probably am the very embodiment of chaos and mayhemand bedlam. My skin is slick with sweat, my hair flying in all directions, my mouth streaming a string of incoherent words. I’m bouncing like a woman possessed.

Then it all explodes in a glorious eruption of ecstasy, bliss, and pleasure.

Horatio’s eyes widen as he takes in the sight of me, riding him like a cowgirl at a rodeo. I don’t think he’s that far behind me. The sounds he’s making are delicious, his cock twitching inside me.

But he doesn’t. The man has magical lasting powers. To my astonishment, he flips me over and pins me down on the bed. He lifts one knee, presses it into my chest, and thrusts into me. I finally understand what it means to be pounded into a mattress.

I’m still dizzy with my orgasms, aftershocks rippling through me, and I smile at him, wrapping my arms around his neck, tickling my fingers against his skin.

“Molly, I… Molly, I… Molly, I…”

He collapses over me with a long, drawn-out groan, and the two of us lie marooned in the middle of my bed, sweaty, breathless, elated.

“Okay?” he asks me, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide.

“Absolutely, entirely, and completely,” I say dreamily.

He bends his head down, our eyes still connected, his lips brushing against mine, and then–

Pop!

Chapter Thirty-One

“Witches’ broomsticks!”

Both Horatio and I dive for the covers.

“They’ve come to arrest me,” I hiss by Horatio’s ear. “They’ve finally worked out what I’ve been up to and they’re here to haul me in front of a judge and it’ll be all over theWitching Timesand my mum will disown me and then they’ll lock me up and throw away the key and–”

“Oh my! Oh, my goodness!” a voice squeals from the other side of my bedroom, interrupting my rambling despair.

The voice does not belong to my older sister – thank all those lucky stars in the galaxy. Nor does it belong to an officer who sounds like they’re about to handcuff me. I breathe a sigh of relief.

“I had no idea,” the voice continues. “We had a report of another … oh my, oh my.”

I peer out from under the sheet. It’s another Magical Enforcement Officer – the same one who gatecrashed our last little hook-up.

“Oh,” she says, “it’s you again. If I’d realised … but it’s a different address.”

“Don’t worry. You’re right, it’s a completely different address. You couldn’t have known.”