Page 78 of This Witch Is Not Wicked

Desire filled her eyes, and godwitches, I wanted her so badly. I hadn’t lied about her being a distraction, but what I hadn’t said was that she was the best kind of distraction. The only kind I ever wanted.

She tipped her pelvis, my cock entering just a few inches, and I sucked in a sharp breath. Fuck, this already felt so damn good I might actually combust once I was all the way inside.

“And you claim I’m the one trying to kill you,” she said, nudging forward again.

“Like you said in the water—it would be a glorious way to die, though, right?” In one quick motion, I pushed all the way into her, and she cried out, her head sinking to my shoulder as she clung to me.

Her nails dug into my shoulders, the prick of pain mixing with the pleasure and sending shockwaves through my body.

I made quick thrusts, gripping her thighs tight. “Fuck, this is so good,” I said.

She hummed in agreement, then leaned back and adjusted her position, rocking with me, rolling her hips. I was unraveling under her touch, unraveling with every tilt of her pelvis, every moan escaping her mouth. Every piece of me was coming apart, and I didn’t want to be put back together. I wanted to be undone by this woman again and again and again.

“Fuck, Enid,” I said, quickening my pace into a pounding rhythm.

I could live inside of her forever.

“That might be awkward,” she said, breathless, and I realized I’d just said those words out loud.

“Maybe, but it would also be fucking divine.” I groaned as she rolled her hips in a slow motion and threw her head back, tipping me straight over the edge.

“I’m going to come.” And then my orgasm was shooting out of me.

Enid’s walls tightened around my cock, her entire body shuddering and convulsing until we were both slicked with sweat, panting, reduced to nothing but loose limbs and heavy breaths.

“I think I saw actual stars when I came.” She straightened, and I slipped out of her, but I kept a grip on her thighs.

“I think I might’ve seen the whole damn solar system.”

We pressed our foreheads together, and her rose scent filled the space between us. “So damn delicious,” I murmured.

“I think we’re going to need to do that again,” she said.

This woman was going to kill me, and I was quickly finding out that I’d gladly let her.

CHAPTER 31

Enid

Isat in bed with Fiona next to me, both of us poring over botany books and reading about the elements of healing in different plant species. Well, I was reading. Fiona’s book was mostly pictures, which she seemed to be enjoying. She’d shown up this morning with an armful of books, and some of them actually looked fascinating.

I’d always had a complicated relationship with botany and its medicinal properties, mainly because other than the beauty of their creations, Mother had been most proud of the fact that their plants had the power to heal. It was also another reason they hated me—because my creations were the opposite of theirs, intended to destroy, not save.

But after I’d watched Nevan use one of my flowers to help someone, I hadn’t been able to get it out of my mind. That had been three weeks ago, and since then, I’d been at the library almost daily, checking out new books on healing with botany.

I’d realized how very wrong my mother had been about everything.

In a short time, I’d helped Nevan create a numbing tincture, a potion that could cut skin open without ever needing a knife, and a salve that warded off creatures because of its smell—all with my plants. There was so much possibility in this bog, and for the first time ever, I was buzzing with purpose and excitement. I wasn’t just existing anymore. I was living.

All the facets of healing were fascinating. I understood now how Nevan could lose track of time and stay up late into the night reading his alchemy books. I’d done the same with these botany books several nights in a row.

I shifted as a ray of sun shone in my eye.

Vine picked up the blue book next to me and lifted it in the air.

My excitement quickly soured. “I’ve tried. I really have tried to read that book, but I can’t. It’s so boring.”

Vine opened it up where I’d bookmarked my spot. I’d read over half of it now, meeting with the book club every week and discussing the chapters. I enjoyed the company of the women more than anything else, but I was struggling to get through the book. It wasn’t even very long, more of a novella than a full novel. In fact, we were almost to the end.