Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 49441 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49441 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
She cried out against my neck.
But she was undeterred.
Her lips continued their sweet torment, sliding down the column of my throat, over my chest.
Her tongue flicked out, teasing around each of my nipples.
Then she was moving downward, her lips and tongue learning the indents of my abdominal muscles as my need blanked out everything else in my mind.
My fingers slid up to work the tie out of her hair. It fell like a curtain around her face, tickling over the heated skin of my chest and stomach.
Her tongue traced the indent of my Adonis belt.
Then she was moving down.
Tracing the head of me through my pants, making a guttural groan escape me.
“I’ve never felt like this before,” Roxy murmured as she moved back, settling on top of me again, aligning her core to my hardness, then bearing down on me. “I can’t… think,” she admitted, brows furrowing, like that fact concerned her for a second.
But then it was gone as she rocked against me, stoking her need, driving herself toward that edge.
I wanted more than anything to go with her, to hear her cry out just from the brush of my need against hers.
But her words came back to me with more clarity.
I’ve never felt like this before.
I hadn’t either.
It was overwhelming, all-consuming.
I can’t… think.
My own thoughts felt steeped in molasses; each thought thick and hard to draw out.
There was something… wrong.
“Nathaniel,” Roxy cried, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut.
“Look at me,” I demanded, as a hard-to-grasp thought needled at me.
Walking in the boring, nothing room.
My sharp tone.
Hers.
My pains.
Hers.
All… more acute than they should have been. Especially given what we’d already been through together.
Something was wrong.
I just… couldn’t place it.
“Roxy, look at me,” I demanded, voice stronger.
Her heavy lids slipped open, glancing down at me.
But not really focused.
Like she wasn’t even seeing me.
Like she was… lost in her desire.
Like it was consuming her.
Like it was something bigger than her.
I can’t… think.
“Wait,” I said, my mind fighting with the desire surging through my body. “Roxy, wait,” I demanded, grabbing her hips, fingers sinking in, dragging her up a few inches, so she wouldn’t continue to rock against me.
“No,” she whimpered. “I need you,” she said.
That primal rumble moved through me again, every bit of me wanting that to be true.
And perhaps it was.
But not at this level.
There was something off about this, about how intense these feelings were. About how mindless they were making us.
“Listen,” I demanded, still fighting back my own unmet needs.
“I don’t want to listen,” she said, her hands gliding up my chest, creating little sparks of interest.
“Roxanne, this isn’t right,” I told her as she folded forward, hair teasing my chest.
“It feels right to me,” she murmured, her lips meeting the skin of my neck. “Doesn’t it feel right to you?” she asked.
It did.
More right than anything else in my entire sorry existence had ever felt.
But that was part of the problem, wasn’t it?
Nothing was supposed to feel like this.
This wasn’t us.
Or, to be more accurate, this wasn’t just us. There was some sort of spell at work.
“It’s not that,” I said, groaning as her teeth nipped my earlobe, sending jolts of electricity through my nerve endings. “This is a spell,” I said, the words rushing out before I stopped fighting it, before I gave in completely. Like my body was screaming for me to do.
“No,” she said, lips blazing a sweet path down my jaw toward my lips. “No, I’ve wanted this for days.”
“I do too. But it’s not right,” I insisted as her lips claimed mine.
I gave in for a moment, tasting her sweetness, loving the feel of her, the aggression of her desire.
But it wasn’t right, damn it.
It didn’t matter that there were underlying desires at play. What mattered was there was no guarantee that this moment would be happening if Roxanne was in her right mind. If there weren’t powers at play that were lowering her inhibitions.
Giving in right now felt too much like taking advantage of a woman who was too drunk to consent.
Because Roxy was drunk.
On some unknown power.
Some spell that she didn’t even willingly ingest. Which made it all the more wrong.
Her lips left mine, moving back to my neck. Where she stiffened suddenly.
“It’s a spell, Roxy,” I said, pushing her off of me. It felt like torture to try to move away from her, to gain my feet, and create more distance, going to the far corner of the room to try to pull myself together.
The scent of her filled the windowless room, making me start to hold my breath, frustrated that within seconds, I was helpless but to suck in more air.
The frustration grew, amplified, making me annoyed at everything to do with this almost entirely human form.
I noticed it then.
For the first time in hundreds of years.
A thumping in my chest.