How to Marry a Warlock in 10 Days (20 page)

“Uh, Dred?” Middy asked tentatively.

“You can thank me later.”

“Yeah, we’ll get to that ‘my hero’ stuff in a minute.”

“What could be more important than that?” Dred said, trying not to sound winded, even though that quick introduction to the ground had knocked the air out of him.

Middy just looked down to where his trousers were still open. “Ask him.”

“I know he seems sentient sometimes, but he’s not,” Dred said with a certain finality.

She put her hand on his to stop him when he would have secured himself; her fingertips softly brushed the head of his still hard cock. “Don’t you want your hero’s thank you?”

“We both almost died because you thought I was trying to break down your back door and you still want to—”

“Look, I was startled. And I heard stories from Tally,” Middy interrupted.

“It’s a wonder that you ever had sex at all living with that witch.” Dred shook his head.

“She saved me from Tristan in the library.”

“I saved you! That centerfold was trying to kill you. Tristan just wanted a piece of ass.”

“Isn’t that what
you’re
after?”

“The pot and the kettle, love. You’re the one with your hand on my cock.” He closed his fingers around hers as they moved over him.

“Oh? I’m not the one who decided to initiate broom sex.” Middy leaned closer to her work and licked her lips.

“No, but you are the one who wore a mini-skirt and straddled the broom like a cowboy on the rodeo circuit.”

“You’re the one who threw me off the broom.” She stroked the shaft harder and closed her mouth over the tip, velvet on velvet as her tongue drew lazy circles over the swollen flesh.

“Is this my punishment?” Dred asked, his gaze intent on her every movement. He didn’t even argue that it was Middy who’d jumped from the broom.

She replaced her tongue with her fingers and spoke,

“No, your punishment is in our luggage at Snow Manor.

Your mother gave me a whip before I drank that Merlin-awful potion.”

“Don’t take Merlin’s name in vain!”

Middy stopped what she was doing. “Okay, I’m jerking you off and you’re telling me not take some warlock’s name in vain? Seriously?”

“You’re the one who mentioned my mom.”

“This blame game isn’t fun anymore.” Middy pouted.

“It rarely is.”

“The mood is just gone.” Middy flopped on her back in the grass.

“I was kind of surprised that you wanted to do it out here in the open. Most witches are shy.”

“What do I have to be shy about? You’ve already seen everything. If someone happens along, you have that handy invisibility spell. What could—” Then she closed her mouth.

She really did know better than to ask what could possibly go wrong.

Damn it! She’d decided that she was going to seduce Dred and that’s what was going to happen here. Midnight was tired of being put off, tired of being interrupted, and tired of not getting what she’d paid for.

She’d signed on for this mission, not to get thrown off of brooms, but to use Dred Shadowins like a sex toy. That and support the Gargoyle Masque: She wasn’t totally selfish.

He was still hard.

How did the warlock manage it? He always seemed ready to go at a moment’s notice. Were all warlocks like that? Middy didn’t think so. She wondered what it would be like to really be married to him.

Would he be a faithful husband? Or would that cock do his thinking for him? She pitied the witch who actually married him. Of course, she envied her, too, but she chalked that up to some nasty side effect from the potion that his evil mother had disguised as chocolate drizzle. That woman would have been a talented assassin.

Middy noticed Dred hadn’t made a move to get up. Perhaps he knew what she was going to do and was waiting for her to get on with it. She wasn’t sure which would be more humiliating, if he knew or if he didn’t. If he didn’t, that meant he was just content to lie there with a raging erection and a willing witch and . . . She had said that she was out of the mood, though. Well, he should be expected to read her mind. It was that simple.

They’d had some mind-meld Sex Magick the first time; where was that shit when she wanted it? The closet gnome had probably stolen that for his hidey hole, too. It was probably making out with Aloe Hugginfroth’s broom.

Midnight straddled him. “So you want to be my broom?”

“I thought I was punished?”

“You are.”

“Whatever you say,
Mistress
.” He raised a brow.

She narrowed her eyes at him. He couldn’t possibly know about the time that she’d tried to get the Dred-bot to lick her boot heel. Could he?
Don’t tell him, this time!

Middy felt the head of his cock rubbing against her slit.

She imagined herself wanton there in the bright light of day where anyone could see them, even though she was still clothed. She’d have to thank Tally later for convincing her to go sans knickers.

She felt powerful, too.

Dred’s cock strained for entry, but she refused him, instead rolling her hips so that it made contact with her clit.

She moved his hands so they were under her shins.

Midnight had to admit that she loved feeling like she was in control, that this strong warlock was at her mercy—and he was at her mercy. He could do nothing unless she allowed it.

“Let me touch you,” he pleaded.

“You are touching me,” Middy said as she rocked forward.

“Let me taste you.”

Did she dare? It was something that she’d fantasized about for so long. Yes, he’d tasted her before, but not when she was the one in control. Not like this.

Middy slid up his body and positioned herself with her slit next to his mouth, her knees on the ground on each side of him. He seemed to know what she wanted to do and moved his hands so that she could link her fingers with his when she leaned back.

Her body arched into an impossible position and made her feel all the more exposed. The first touch of his tongue sent shockwaves though her and she cried out. She felt his pleasure again and saw what he wanted of her, watched them in her mind’s eye as he licked her.

She caught a glimpse of her and two other women, but that was quickly replaced by something else, as if he didn’t want her to see it. Again, her nakedness was against the black marble tile of some room that was familiar to him.

Midnight knew that these were his fantasies about her.

Midnight wasn’t into girls, but seeing herself as he saw her brought another rush of power and another wave of desire.

She felt the same things he was feeling as he pushed his tongue past her labia minora and inside of her. Middy was tempted to release his hands so he could use his fingers, too, but that wasn’t part of the fantasy.

Dred sucked her clit into his mouth and tugged lightly with his teeth. She strained to arch her back farther to push herself down onto his mouth and he raised their linked hands to give her the leverage she needed.

“More!” she demanded.

Dred complied and he increased the speed and strength of the friction he created with his tongue. He would vary between the slow, languorous motion of pushing his tongue inside of her and then licking from her slit up to her clit and just focusing on that distended bud of flesh that brought her such intense pleasure.

Middy felt a rush of fluid and instead of slowing his attentions, Dred sucked and licked with more pressure. She could feel his intention and it wasn’t just to get her off: He was enjoying her pleasure.

Her fingers tightened around his just as her passage tightened and she came against his lips, the evidence of her orgasm ambrosia on his tongue.

Dred’s hands were somehow free; she was digging her fingers into the soft earth beside them as her body shook with her release. He was guiding her where he wanted, but she wasn’t fighting him, she couldn’t.

Middy was on top of him, but he was in control again.

He positioned her as she had been before, the head of his cock against her slit and his fingers anchored to her hips.

She was slick and ready for him, but he didn’t enter her. Instead he slid his cock just to the entrance of her channel and then back up against her already sensitive clit.

Middy wanted him inside of her, but when she shifted, he did as well. It was an erotic one-upmanship that he was winning by a landslide. She didn’t care anymore; she just wanted him inside of her. Middy didn’t understand how, after she’d already gotten off, she still needed his cock.

Perhaps because he hadn’t gotten off? It had to be the Sex Magick.

“Give me your mouth,” Dred demanded.

He hadn’t asked for a kiss, he’d asked for her mouth. That made her shudder in expectation.

Middy complied and leaned in to him. One hand snaked through her hair and angled her just as he wanted and he took her mouth. It couldn’t be called a kiss, but perhaps a taking.

He tasted her lips, crushing her down to him. Midnight could taste herself on his lips; she was sweet and a bit salty, just like her favorite treats. She’d tasted herself before, on her own fingers, but tasting herself on his mouth was better, more decadent.

They both cried out when he pushed inside of her and he didn’t move. Middy was sure that she was going to die either way. If he moved, she’d shatter; if he didn’t, the anticipation would break her apart.

“You’re still so tight.” His whisper was ragged and he pushed himself into an upright position without forcing Middy to move.

Dred wrapped his arm around her and braced himself on the ground with his other hand and thrust his hips. Middy kissed him this time and it was a kiss in truth, soft and sweet. He grazed her bottom lip with his teeth, but then returned the kiss with a softness that she hadn’t known he possessed.

She knew it didn’t mean anything, that he changed his response according to what got her off, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was inside of her, that they belonged to each other this way for a little while.

Midnight locked her legs around his waist and moved to meet his thrusts. He changed his hold on her, curving his arms under hers to grasp her shoulders, and he buried his face in her neck.

She ran her fingers through his hair, traced them over the line of his jaw, his cheek. Their lips met again and he spilled inside of her.

After a moment, he spoke, “You only got off once, didn’t you?” Like it was a crime.

“That’s okay. I came before.”

“It sure as hell is
not
okay! I must be sick.” Dred sounded panicked.

“Why must you be sick?”

“I don’t know, but it won’t be tolerated.”

“No, why do you think you’re sick?” She smoothed his hair.

“I never come first. I’m a good lover.”

“I never said you weren’t,” Middy replied.

“You don’t have to. You only came once.”

“Yeah, but it was really hard.”

“Don’t console me.” He pouted.

“Really, I usually only get off once. Even with myself. Though I’ve tried like Merlin to be one of those multiple orgasm witches.”

“The gauntlet has been thrown.” Dred’s already hard jaw looked as if it had been carved from stone and his eyes narrowed like he’d just acquired a line of sight on his prey.

“It wasn’t a gauntlet!” Dear saints and goddesses above, she’d just challenged a sex god to a battle of the orgasms.

“Oh, but it was, my dear. It was.” Dred looked as if he were already plotting.

She was terrified and thrilled all at once.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Coming In Out of the Rain

How long were they going to be at it? Shit! The “villagers” were coming. Well, not like her star-crossed lovers were, but they were venturing forward with pitch-forks and torches.

Grace didn’t understand how she was supposed to play fairy godmother to two people who were too stupid not to come in out of the rain.

Why did she keep coming back to
come
? She couldn’t even think that word and not find herself hot and bothered.

She had sex on the brain and of course, it was all Caspian’s fault. At least until Sera Ann tugged on her hand.

Thoughts of going to the Caspian Rodeo were washed away by the decidedly frigid shower of her daughter’s presence.

“Whatcha doin?”

“What am
I
doing? What are you doing?” She was tempted to demand that Sera not look, but that would be the fastest way to ensuring that her daughter got two big peepers full of Dred and Middy goodness.

“I’m trying to help a hero defeat the evil monster.”

“Aren’t
we
the evil monsters?” Sera Ann asked in a serious tone.

“No, darling. Who’s been feeding you that crap again?”

“Grandpa Raphael. He keeps calling me a little imp. All of the books say imps are devious, evil monsters from Hell bent on destruction and mayhem.”

“Those are mortal books, sweetie. Remember that Hell is subjective.”

“But we live in Hell.”

“Yes, but isn’t Grandpa Raphael a Crown Prince of Heaven?” Grace returned. Talking with her daughter was almost as much of a verbal spar as it was with her husband.

She was a smart cookie, maybe too smart.

“I guess.” Sera Ann seemed to chew on this for a moment. Then she pointed to the clearing where thankfully, Middy and Dred had finished their activity, before the child got an eyeful. “Those guys with the torches look like something out of that last book I read.”

“Which one was that?” Grace asked her daughter.

“Frankenstein.”

“I was trying to get them to stop what they were doing and get them to safety, but it’s like herding cats.”

“I know what you mean.” The little girl nodded, still serious.

Grace was wondering how best to approach them when her daughter, with full horn and tail regalia, decided to do it for her.

Sweet Bleeding Hell.

“So you’re the Butcher of Shale Creek, huh?” A little girl popped out of nowhere just as Middy pulled down her skirt.

“And you are?” Dred asked casually after Middy let out a startled yelp.

“Saving your ass?” The girl shrugged and pointed to a grassy hilltop where an angry mob had gathered.