Page 86 of What The Hex (The Family Spells)
“I can’t call your name if—” I started, but then the vine pressed forward and pushed between my lips, sliding in and out of my mouth as if it were Argent’s cock. May as well have been as his magic was as much a part of him as his dick.
“We’re not there just yet,” he said, his voice this disturbing level of calm that had me thrashing against the green vines he’d created. They were smooth and slick, and the one between my lips tasted just like him—like wildflower and honey. He fucked my mouth nice and slow with it, taking his time as he trailed fingers up my spine, teasing me through the thin fabric of my red dress. “If you scream too early, and that demon stain interrupts me, well … I can’t be held fully responsible for what I’d do.”
“Hecate’s tits,” Spectre choked out from my left side. I couldn’t see him or even turn to look at him, but the surprise was evident in his voice. “You’re really in a mood tonight, aren’t you?” Hunger leaked into my vampire lover’s words at the sight of me in such a daring position, but he always seemed to sense when he was invited to play … and when he wasn’t.
With a string of violent expletives, Spectre disappeared into our bedroom but left the door open. That way, I wouldn’t be able to miss the sound of him moaning as he jacked himself off. Purposeful, I’m sure.
“I’ll have every part of you, Graceley Spells. Heart, soul, body, magic. Everything.” Argent gripped my hips in his hands, the silver glow of his skin illuminating the wall in front of my face as I sucked on the vine, and he groaned as if it were attached to him.
The head of Argent’s cock pressed up against my heat as he growled against the side of my throat and then ran his tongue along the pulsing throb of my carotid, right where Spec had bitten me and Hex had kissed. The lingering vamp pheromones rocked through me, and I moaned against the vine in my mouth, yanking on the ones attached to my wrists and ankles.
He isn’t just jealous: he’s afraid, too. He’s terrified.
Of the witch-eaters, the Witch Queen thing, the brewing disturbances between our coven and the Coven Wyrmwood-Cabal Ungeist alliance.
All of those fears and worries were shoved out of my mind as Argent finally, blessedly entered me. He pushed his huge cock—which I knew from experience also glowed—balls-deep into me. Another vine, slick to the touch, probed against my rear entrance, and I gasped as it, too, thrust in, leaving me with an enchanted feeling of fullness, of completeness.
Argent was everywhere, all around me, inside of me, holding me, touching me. He was thrusting into me with heedless moans, as completely abandoned to the pleasure as he always was. It didn’t matter that we had a guest who might be listening …
I heard Hex’s door open, and the vine between my lips slid loose.
“Say it,” Argent breathed as I felt the full weight of Hex’s stare on the pair of us. “Say my name.”
It took me several tries, my lips wet and slick from my own saliva, my body full of Argent’s cock and magic. His hot hands were everywhere it seemed, yanking my dress down and palming my tits before releasing them and allowing his vines to do the work of squeezing and kneading and pinching my nipples; his hands were on my hips, sliding a hot palm up my stomach, a thumb rubbing my clit. Once again, the vines took over that duty, and then Argent was just holding me tight and powering into me.
I was so completely overwhelmed with the sensations that I could hardly remember Argent’s name …
“First Wife,” I gasped out. I’m not entirely sure why that’s what came out, but when a witch is in the throes of pleasure, strange things happen. I could see shapes dancing in the air around us, like aurora borealis, but like … caused by wild sex instead of light. “First Wife, First Wife, First Wife …”
Argent slowed, snorted, and then gripped my hips even harder, slamming into me as an orgasm came tumbling loose. I could feel it in every quivering muscle, in the way I locked down on his cock, squeezing and milking him with my inner muscles. He didn’t stop or slow, not even as I gasped and choked and called out his name—or a semblance of it anyway—over and over again.
Hex was still watching, I knew, but we weren’t going to stop.
Argent was right: if he couldn’t handle this, it was best we all knew now. That way, Hex might be able to work out some solution with his coven that wouldn’t end with his head on a pike outside the Crone’s cottage.
