Dylan's Witch: 10 (Supernatural Bonds) by Jory Strong Page B

Seraphine asked herself, lips curving into a smile, her eyes closed and Dylan’s forehead touching hers as they each tried to regain strength. “Well, that was less awkward than earlier today at Aislinn’s store,” she finally managed.
    He laughed. It was a carefree sound that had her wanting to hear more just like it.
    “Would have served them right if they’d seen this show,” he said. “Though I don’t think they could have handled it.”
    She opened her eyes and met his, a flutter going through her heart. Serious, he was attractive; but smiling, laughing, he was devastating to any woman’s defenses and hers were already lowered.
    Question answered. Hot, spontaneous sex was definitely the right way to handle things.
    “That was just round one,” he said.
    “Then I need to fortify myself with chocolate.”
    “Chocolate?” Said in tones that suggested Dylan didn’t understand the miracle substance it was.
    “Chocolate and sex. Probably the finest two things ever discovered by humankind.”
    “Not in that order,” he said, lips going to her ear, capturing her lobe for a sensuous suck that had her nipples tightening. It was followed by the dip of his tongue in her ear to send a streak of need straight to her cunt.
    She clamped down on his cock, her channel rippling against it in a demand to harden fully again. “Maybe,” she conceded.
    His mouth returned to hers for a slow plundering, a hot claiming. The heartmate bracelet burned against her skin, the one on his finger left heated streaks down her back as his hands roamed, though she didn’t need either sign to know she wanted this man.
    He felt right against her senses, her magic. She met the thrust of his tongue with hers, inner muscles clenching and unclenching on his cock with the plunge and slide and tangle of tongues.
    He hardened again. Came again, less violently but more deeply felt, his seed filling her, planting the image of children with their father’s looks and her gifts.
    He mumbled a curse and apology for not giving her an orgasm first. The weight of his upper body rested more heavily on her, leaving the impression that only the door held them upright.
    “You can remedy that, after the chocolate.”
    “Christ, I’m going to lose my boys club card.”
    She laughed and forced her legs off his waist, hating the loss of his cock when it slid from her channel before her feet touched the floor, but loving the way his hips jerked, his body’s protest at not being inside her. A shiver of pleasure went through her at the reaction, at having his penis pressed semirigid and hot against her stomach.
    Reality tried to intrude, because as much as she wanted his showing up to be the direct result of the encounter at Inner Magick and because he could no longer deny the attraction, she knew it had to be more than that. It had to be important, something more urgent than the need for sex.
    She deferred asking in favor of his company, satisfied for the moment that he’d sought her out and he seemed relaxed. “Kitchen,” she said.
    He lingered a moment, caging her against the door, kissing her neck until he pushed himself upright. He tucked his cock into his jeans and zipped up as she retrieved the short nightgown and slipped it on.
    “Damn.” Said with a wealth of masculine disgruntlement.
    She laughed and took his hand. Within steps of leading him deeper into the house, Dylan’s attention was captured by the tribal masks adorning the wall. “I didn’t notice these the last time I was here.”
    Talk about a fucking understatement. She’d opened her door to Trace and him and everything had pretty much been lost in the roar of lust. He’d been in a battle not to disgrace himself by coming in his pants.
    “Interesting choice of decoration.” And a hell of a lot better than pentacles, charms or anything else that screamed witchcraft.
    “Most of them were gifts from tribal elders or host families.”
    It was so out there he couldn’t leave it.