Page 52 of What The Hex (The Family Spells)
His eyes met mine, pupils dilated so fully that I could scarcely see the lavender color anymore. But I wasn’t afraid. My vampire husband knew his limits—and mine.
With another searing kiss, he gathered me close, grinding our tired and spent but very happy bodies together. A whole month of need and want unraveled like a ball of red thread, our soulmate connection tangling up and binding us together with the most perfect knot.
The sound of Caine’s hand, wet from his own saliva, slicking up and down his shaft accompanied Spectre’s deep groans of pleasure and sent a much-needed release through me. Magic sparkled faintly against the ceiling, and the spells on the ancient headboard kicked in, giving me an orgasm that I felt in my belly, in my back, in my toes and fingers. My entire body was trembling, thighs shaking, hips thrusting up off the bed to meet my husband’s.
Spectre lasted just a few thrusts longer than me, sliding his hands under my ass to cup my cheeks in tight fingers. He murmured sweet nothings as he came hard and filled me up, pressing his face to my neck and inhaling sharply at the moment of release, like he very much wanted to bite me again.
“If you need more, ask Caine,” I whispered as Spec panted and chuckled on top of me, pushing himself up to his elbows so that he could stare down at my quivering, sparkling form. Like, quite literally, as spent of magic as we were, I was still glimmering with extra energy.
I blamed the headboard. Or the house. Or maybe Hex’s presence. I’d never had a complete soul-circle before, obviously, but I’d heard from other witches that it was transcendent. For each soulmate in one’s circle, there was extra magic, extra power, and it was amplified exponentially. Three witches were not just slightly more powerful than two, but leagues above.
So, while it may have been harder for me to gather my circle, we were by far and above the most powerful soul-circle on the West Coast now. That would complicate things, once word got out. I tried not to think too hard on that.
For now, I turned my head to find Caine, his lip curled up just slightly in annoyance.
“You drink from me right now, I will slap you upside the head,” he warned, and Spec snorted, rolling into Argent’s abandoned spot on the bed. “But if Graceley over here was wanting to put her mouth on somethin’ …”
I also snorted and rolled over, offering Caine what was supposed to be a kiss on the lips and somehow finding my hand wrapped around his cock.
“Did I say I wanted to put my mouth on something?” I queried, and then I was kissing him again, tasting the wild magic of wolf and the familiarity of witch as I worked him up with my hand. His ears were sticking out of his blond hair, and I pushed him over with a palm on his chest, straddling his thighs so I could play with him using both hands and admire his ears at the same time. “But you’re quite cute, you know that?”
“Cute?” he queried back, but then I tightened my grip and Caine was virtually powerless to stop me. “Son of a witch …” he groaned, and then he was arching his hips up and spilling himself across his taut belly and chest.
I dropped down to offer up another quick kiss but made my escape before he could pull me into him and get me even dirtier than I already was. Argent had climbed into the shower by the time I made it into the bathroom, and I joined him briefly. Monster had kept me clean and my hair tangle-free throughout my long sleep, but I needed an, um, quick rinse between the thighs.
“Do not overdo it today,” Argent warned me when I hopped out of the shower and nearly fell. Only Spectre’s hand on my arm kept me upright as he looked me over. “You’re lucky to be able to stand let alone fuck.”
“I’m actually surprised at how good I feel,” Spec mused as I opened the bathroom door and dug through the chest of drawers on my right. The surface was covered in charms and hats, gloves and witch boots with spells woven into the laces. Our room was clean, but eclectically disheveled as I liked to call it.
We had stuff everywhere.
Brooms on the walls; spells drawn on the floor; herbs and potions and tonics on every surface and in every cupboard, drawer, and cabinet. It was always better to be overprepared rather than under which, of course, was why I was still alive. If I didn’t have a hat addiction, and I didn’t coat those hats with a million and one different spells, the krampus would have killed me.
