How to Marry a Warlock in 10 Days by Saranna DeWylde Page A

hadn’t eaten yet. Middy cocked her head to the side as if the motion could rattle her cogs loose and help realization set in. She didn’t know what there was to wink about either. He was just talking about . . .
    He meant her muffin!
    Sweet Circe, this warlock was trying to kill her. It would be death by muffinquake. Everything he said was candycoated with sex and each of those syllables out of his mouth made her body clench.
    This was really it. She was lighting Weekly Warlock on fire. No more jilling-off to him. Not that it got her anywhere anyway. Not after this blatant show of “cunning lin-guistics.”
    She really meant that this time, unlike the previous four times when she was just vowing for effect. Really.
    “I am coming to enjoy that shade of pink.”
    In that second, Middy realized she’d had enough. He had all the power here and she was going to get some of it back.
    Or she was going to die of embarrassment trying.
    “Coming?” She repeated the word for effect. “Doesn’t look like it to me. You’re not even breathing heavy.” Middy smiled and reached over to put her hand boldly on his package. “Doesn’t feel like it either.”
    Dred made a sound low in his throat and Middy realized that the previously mentioned package had just become a special delivery. It hardened beneath her touch and she was curious to know more.
    He caught her wrist. “Midnight! Sweet hell, no.”
    “Tell me more about why you’re on the injured list,”
    Middy said. “I think I deserve to know what’s keeping me from my payment.”
    Dred gritted his teeth and closed his eyes; he took a deep breath. “That’s going to be just as bad, Midnight.” He pulled her against him and he shifted his weight so that their mouths were only seconds apart. “It was the night of the Masque.”
    “The night when you abandoned me to find my own pleasure?” Middy couldn’t believe the words that had just fallen out of her mouth with no care as to where they crashed.
    “Yes, Midnight. You were so wet for me, but I was trying my damndest to . . .” He frowned and the slashes of his eyebrows drew together. “You’re a virgin and the Cause is so much more than this.”
    He’d just said that this “Cause” of his was so much more important to him than being wand deep in her, but the way he’d said it almost made up for the blow to her pride. Dred leaned close to her, his hard body pressing her into the mattress, his breath sweet and minty on her lips. The duvet was between them, but she was hyperaware of her nakedness beneath.
    “Tell me more,” she demanded as her eyes fluttered closed with desire.
    “What do you want to hear, Midnight? That I wanted to fuck you? That I’ve imagined the sweet heat of you tight around my cock? Or do you want to know what I was doing while I was imagining your body? That I was touching my cock, sliding my hand back and forth trying to come, all the while knowing it was nothing compared to what it would like to be deep inside of you?”
    Middy arched up into him, his words a caress as potent and real as his hands over her body.
    “And I couldn’t come, because it wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted you. So, I kept stroking, touching. . . .”
    Middy could see everything that he described to her. His strong hands wrapped around his cock, his head tilted back in pleasure, even a bead of sweat forming on his upper lip as he worked his cock to images of her.
    His words gave her a heady power.
    “Now please, Middy. It took forever to come and I’m so sore.”
    She was already sore from her multiple missed orgasms, so she supposed it would be a good idea to quit taunting him. And herself.
    “Okay, but I’m going to hold you to that.”
    Dred rolled onto his back, his eyes closed, and his hand making a protective cup near his groin, though he wasn’t quite touching it.
    He pulled out his Witchberry and tossed it to her. “Call yourself. Then you’ll have my number. Look at my last text from