Page 62 of Hexed Up

“Are you regretting your choice of prize, Miss Eccleston?”

“No,” I say, smiling again, curling my tongue behind my teeth. “I’m really looking forward to driving that–”

I don’t finish my words because he’s pulling me into his waiting arms, sliding his hand into my hair and pressing his mouth to mine.

Instantly, my knees buckle and I realise kissing Horatio Shaw is even better than I remember. I don’t even mind that he’s a little bit sweaty, his shirt clinging to all those muscles of his, and making my body wilt against his.

As his hands find my waist, I twine my arms around his neck, burying my fingers into his hair, scratching my nails against his scalp.

He growls against my lips and then he’s kissing me harder and with more urgency, his tongue invading my mouth and stealing my breath away.

I moan into his mouth, which only seems to encourage him onwards, because his lips leave mine and travel to my throat, sucking and nibbling there until I think I may actually be whimpering and a little bit deranged. I press my body closer to him, rubbing my core against his, desperate for that friction we found before, and then his hands are sweeping over my hips and travelling down to cup my arse through my dress. He gives my backside an appreciative squeeze, mumbling something equally appreciative against my skin, and then he’s hitching me up off the ground and depositing me down on the table tennis table. On instinct I go to part my thighs and find my dress won’t let me. SoI do the only thing a girl can do in this situation and hitch it up my thighs.

“Shit,” he mutters, but he doesn’t step between my thighs like I expect him to, instead he sinks down to his knees.

“Wh-wh-what are you doing?” I gasp.

“Kissing you somewhere else, Molly,” he tells me, “somewhere you deserve to be kissed. Somewhere I really want to kiss you.”

He presses his cheek against the soft inside of my thigh, dragging his face along there and making me gasp again at the rough feel of his stubble against my skin. Then he kisses the same place, dragging his tongue there next and edging closer and closer to the gusset of my underwear.

I press my hands down on the table behind me, leaning back a little, my legs trembling with anticipation and a pulse drumming between my legs as well as in my throat.

He reaches my underwear and presses his mouth to my mound, taking a deep inhale.

“You smell wet, Molly,” he growls. Which is an understatement. I think I’m the wettest I’ve ever been. The tension and the temptation has been building between us all day – all week – and now the most beautiful man in the world has his face buried between my legs. I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on before.

“May I?” he says, fingers gripping the waistband of my underwear.

“Yes, please,” I pant, lifting my bottom so he can glide my knickers achingly slowly down my legs and unhook them from my feet. He slides them into his pocket and then he spreads my thighs a little wider, resting his palms on each one and holding me open as he simply stares down at me all bare and exposed.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs. Not the word I’d use to describe that part of my anatomy but he genuinely appears to mean it.

He glides a thumb over the point where my intimate lips meet, dipping inside and growling when his thumb ends up coated in my arousal.

“You make me really wet,” I confess.

“Good,” he says. “That’s what I want.”

He glides his thumb back through my folds, circling my entrance and skimming over my clit, making me impatient for more. I lift my hips, eager to chase his touch, but he doesn’t give me what I want, he just keeps on stroking me back and forward, until I am properly whimpering this time.

“Please,” I beg, biting down hard on my bottom lip.

“Please, what, Molly?”

“Please touch me. Please make me come.”

“I am going to touch you. I’m going to touch you and I’m going to eat you out, and you, Molly Eccleston are going to come all over my face.”

“Great Balls of Dragon Fire!” I whimper, my whole body shuddering with desire.

“But I want to hear you say it. I want to hear you say that you want me to kiss you here,” he presses his thumb against my clit, “and here.” He plunges his thumb inside me, sending pleasure spiralling through my body.

“Please kiss me everywhere,” I moan.

He chuckles and then he’s trailing kisses along my inner thigh, his thumb still buried inside me, massaging a spot most men have needed a lot of instruction and copious directions to find.

I’m losing the ability to breathe by the time his mouth reaches my intimate lips and the first press of his mouth against my clit sends me jolting and stars sparking across my vision.