A Demon's Guide to Wooing a Witch （Glimmer Falls, #2(83)

Astaroth groaned softly as his palms landed on her ass. “You drive me wild,” he said between kisses. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

Calladia didn’t want to waste breath on words when she could be devouring him instead. She stroked her tongue against his, then nipped his lower lip. Her hands slid up his neck to toy with his wet, silky hair, and she gave in to an urge she’d felt for a while and gripped his horns.

Astaroth made a stunned sound, and his hips jerked. Encouraged by the response, Calladia stroked up and down his horns with the same eagerness she’d given to jerking him off that morning. They were hard and smooth, the ends slightly blunted rather than razor sharp.

What a marvel his body was. Lean and cut and utterly responsive to her touch. The horn job was apparently really doing it for him, because he was grinding against her aggressively, and his kisses grew frantic.

“Lucifer,” he gasped. “I need more.”

“More of what?” she asked playfully. Then she went up on her toes and dragged her tongue over one horn. It tasted faintly smoky and wholly delicious.

The noise Astaroth made was feral. He fisted a hand in her hair and pulled her head back. “More of you,” he growled. Then he hefted her into his arms and carried her to the side of the pool. He deposited her on the edge, then wasted no time tugging her sports bra off. The position put his head at the height of her breasts. He stared for a moment, then lunged forward and wrapped his lips around a nipple.

Calladia gasped and clutched his horns. Her nipples were sensitive, and the searing heat of his mouth intensified the pleasure. Astaroth massaged her other breast, then lightly pinched one nipple while his teeth nipped at the other, and an electric thrill shot through her.

He switched between her breasts, giving them the same thorough treatment until her nipples were rosy and swollen. When he blew air over the peaks, she twitched.

“So sensitive,” he said, smiling wickedly up at her. “I wonder what else is?”

Calladia widened her legs in invitation. “Let’s find out.”

Astaroth looked thrilled by the prospect. He kissed his way down her stomach, then hooked his fingers in her panties and dragged them off. The fabric made a wet slap against the stones as he tossed it aside, and she was fully nude.

She expected him to dive right in, but Astaroth took his time exploring her. His hands coasted over her body, mapping her shoulders and arms, the bumps of her ribs, and the curve of her waist and hips. He followed the touches with hungry, open-mouthed kisses, like he wanted to taste every inch of her.

Then he pushed her thighs wide and sank lower in the water. She felt his gaze like a physical touch, and his pale blue irises, once reminiscent of ice, now reminded her of the hot core of a flame. Together, they were burning out of control.

He dragged his finger over her pubic hair and lower, parting her labia. “Exquisite,” he said. Then he buried his face between her legs, kissing her ravenously.

“Oh!” Calladia jerked against him. Hecate, he was good at this. He tasted her with long, strong swipes of his tongue, mapping out every contour, even sinking his tongue inside her. His horns rubbed against her sensitive inner thighs, and Calladia leaned back, bracing herself on her hands to get a better view.

Astaroth of the Nine wasn’t precisely on his knees, but he kissed her with the ardent fervor of a zealot praying to his god. He used his entire face, rubbing his cheeks and chin against her labia and wet inner thighs. His clever tongue traced designs over her clit as if he were inscribing a secret poem. He was merciless, not letting up for a single moment, gripping her hips to hold her in place. When he sucked hard on her clit, Calladia’s arms gave out. She flopped onto her back, staring dazedly at the night sky as Astaroth built and built her pleasure. The stars had vanished behind clouds, and a drop of rain struck her cheek.

Her existence narrowed to this small slice of space, seemingly suspended out of time. It was a world of sharp contrasts: the heat of Astaroth’s mouth and hands versus the cool raindrops beginning to patter down, the hard rock beneath her back versus the soft press of skin. She was coming undone, hands scrabbling at the ground while her thighs twitched. The pleasure was building quickly, so intense it was almost frightening. As tension seized her lower belly and her clit grew so sensitive each lick nearly hurt, she instinctively tried to snap her legs shut, but Astaroth kept them pinned wide. He didn’t let up as she moaned and bucked, her cries growing desperate.

The climax rushed toward her. For a moment, Calladia couldn’t breathe, and she opened her mouth on a silent scream as her body grew taut as a bow. Then the pressure released all at once, a series of rolling waves that racked her. Her inner muscles clenched rhythmically, and heat flooded her skin.

Astaroth kept going, never varying the rhythm or pressure that had tipped her over the edge, and the pleasure stretched out for long moments. When the last tremor had shaken through her, Calladia went limp, gasping for air.

Astaroth straightened. He rubbed his hands over her waist, hips, and thighs, looking extremely smug. She couldn’t begrudge him that; he could be as smug as he pleased after delivering that steamroller of an orgasm.

He licked his lips, which still gleamed with her arousal. “Delicious. My witch tastes sweet.”

Was she his witch? Her body certainly thought so. Her head was airy light, and her muscles felt like they’d melted. At that moment, he could have asked her for anything, and she would have done it.