by Lola White
And he exploded in her mouth. He gripped her skull and slid deep so easily that she knew, in that moment, she must have been made for him. Thick cock dragged against soft tissue and a hot blast of semen coated her throat. Earth and fire, he tasted magical and she tasted magic. She drank it down, swallowing convulsively as the tremors in his shaft rolled on and on, his growling moans filling her ears.
Finally he relaxed, dropping back to the mattress with a ragged groan. His fingers slid through her hair, caressing, sending warm trails of sensation down her neck. Slowly, Georgie dragged her mouth from his softening cock, releasing him with one last lick across the tip. She raised heated, liquid eyes to his.
He grabbed her shoulders and hauled her up his body to lie against his chest. His hands swept over her back, molding her to him, flagrantly possessive. His fingers clenched on her ass and rocked her against his thigh, the hard muscle striking need deep into her pussy.
“Your lips are swollen from my cock,” he growled. Without waiting for her response, he took her mouth, thrusting his tongue deep, licking his own taste from her.
He rolled her over, coming down on top of her heavily. His mouth consumed hers, nipping, sucking her lip, her tongue, claiming every inch of the softness within. Her belly pulled in tight and wrapped around her spine, sending her arching toward him, knees rising to his hips.
He tore his lips from hers. “Now you, love.”
The sharp edge of his teeth rode the taut tendon in her neck as her head pressed deep into the pillows, her eyes locking on the scrolling design carved at the top of the headboard. Georgie tried to concentrate on the fine craftsmanship, denying her need for him, but his mouth demanded all her attention. A bolt of sensation slammed into her clit when he shifted his thigh, and she had to surrender.
She felt the power pass from her to him.
He eased the loss with pleasure, wrapping her in his magic, sliding his hands under her blouse to stroke her skin. A heated counterpoint to the cool silk he slid up her torso.
Her belly quivered as his palms slipped over her, as if her muscles couldn’t decide whether to shy away or press closer. Tendrils of shimmering need spread out beneath his hands like ripples in a pond, reaching to cover all of her. It sank into her urgency and whipped it into a frenzy.
He pulled her top off and sent it flying. Then he lifted from her, shifting his legs until they were outside of hers, his thigh no longer teasing her clit through the fabric of her pants. He bracketed her, looming over her, making her feel small and weak, fragile and delicate, even as he sat back on his heels. Looking up into his lust-bright eyes, she caught a glimpse of the hidden tyrant within his soul and knew that he’d always make her feel this way. Georgie wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
But then his eyes swept down her body and his expression eased into something unutterably endearing. She frowned, trying to figure out what it was, what was driving him toward her pleasure when he’d already gotten his own. What had him slowing when everything in her body demanded a faster pace.
His head dropped, his lips brushed her navel, and it came to her. Reverence. It was her last complete thought as he turned his entire focus to worshiping her.
His lips drifted across her belly, his tongue stroked lazy patterns. His teeth scraped with exquisite delicacy and he suckled lightly. Everything slowed, stretched out, sank deeper and sent her higher, until her heartbeat turned sluggish and her gasps echoed in her own ears.
He paid homage to every square inch of her exposed skin, slowly making his way higher. He tasted her, doing as she had done, relearning her texture, her likes and dislikes. His hands coasted over her gently, finding the plump mounds of her breasts, encased in the finest lace. The fabric was no barrier to his heat or the burning wetness of his tongue.
He closed his lips on her over the material, saturating it and sliding it over her peaked nipples. The sensation had a lovely bite, but her nerves demanded more. She arched up, pushing deeper into his mouth. His hand slid beneath her, working at the clasp. He lifted his head to watch as he slowly pulled the bra from her body.
“I’m not the only one who grew over the past ten years.” His words were a breath against one wet peak, coating it with pleasure.
“I was younger,” she gasped. “It was to be expected.”
“I never expect anything where you’re concerned. You are an adventure, my love. A thrill ride.”
She shook her head but lost her voice when his mouth returned to her breast. With nothing between them, the feel of him was undiluted, extreme. Scorching. Indescribably soft, his tongue licked over her, circled her nipple, rolled around it. She lifted for him, silently asking for more, but he only turned his head to her other breast and repeated his veneration.
Softly, so softly.
“Silver, please!”
He rolled his eyes up to meet her pleading gaze and sucked her into his mouth. Small, subtle draws drove her insane, had her thrashing and pressing close. She gripped his hair and tugged hard.
He pulled back. “Easy, love, gentle.”
“I don’t want gentle!”
Something dangerous flickered in his eyes but he looked down too quickly for her to interpret it. “You want gentle with me, Georgie. For now.”
“No!”
“Later, when every wall between us is razed, I’ll give you what we both want. Taking you hard will require more than you’re willing to give me just now. Don’t tempt me.”
He silenced her with a quick, hard suck on her nipple, a teasing glimpse of what she might have one day, and then he began to move back down her body. He revisited still-humming nerves, drawing them tighter, closer to the surface of her skin. He refreshed his memory of her most sensitive spots and learned a few new things. He unbuttoned her pants and kissed the very top of her mound.
Her groin muscles came to a standstill, nerves collectively tightening in worried anticipation. The last time he’d removed her pants he’d sent her to the moon, and her Grandmother had sent her to a witch-hunt in India. There was fear waiting beneath her pants, as well as courage and need and a blazing lust that stripped her of her wits.
She took a breath, licked her lips and lifted, not meeting his eyes, trying to keep her anxiety secret. He wasn’t having it. With another soft kiss on her lower belly, he stripped away more than just fabric.
“It’s okay, Georgie. This time, it’s okay.”
She prayed that he was right, because she’d passed the point of no return long ago. She was vulnerable, powerless beneath him, with no other option but to trust him. He could’ve taken or asked for anything right then, and she wouldn’t have had the voice, or the inclination, to deny him.
She gave him a jerky nod and let her eyes drift closed.
He breathed over the saturated silk of her panties, blowing hot and leaving her to cool. She opened her eyes, surprised to see him watching her face.
“Relax, love.”
He put his hands on her waist and set his magic free. It raced from his palms in blistering waves, golden sheets spreading over her skin until her entire body was lit by a brilliant glow. Warmth sank into her, unraveling her nerves until they writhed and sang to her soul.
His fingers curled under the edge of her panties, slowly drawing them down, kissing each exposed inch of her skin as if it were a priceless treasure worthy of idolatry. His lips were soft against her, his palms stirring golden magic over her legs until her calves tingled and her thighs shook. Rings of sensation enclosed her ankles and kneaded the soles of her feet.
Then he pushed her legs wider, making a space for his shoulders. He stared at her for a good long minute, a heated gaze she felt in her core, melting the last of her fear. She shifted against the mattress, her fingers curling into the blanket beneath her.
He licked, long and true, through her folds, from slick entrance to needy clit. Georgie’s spine bowed, memories racing through her, adding to the current moment. Last time, he had consumed her, eaten her thoroughly, his t
ongue wild and wet, his fingers demanding. He’d thrown her into the fire and leaped in after.
Now he built the fire within her and held his own contained. Slow and sure, he called the flames from her. His tongue circled her clit, rolling the plump bud against his lips. His fingers sifted through the small thatch of curls shielding her, adding to the friction of his caress.
He sucked her, licked at the cream sliding thick from her body. His magic crawled over her, pushed inside her, slipping against delicate walls and pulsing to the beat of her heart. Slowly, his tongue followed.
She softened under his invasion, her pussy embracing his entry with tears of gratitude. Nerves tingled and danced and she wished she was full of him, stretched around him as he drove deep.
Instead, he teased the pleasure out of her. Short, smooth strokes, followed by quick licks, he tasted her inside and out, velvet tongue slipping over her aching flesh. He worshiped her mound as he’d worshiped her torso—thoroughly, slowly, maddeningly.
There was not a heated crevice he didn’t explore. He found every nerve and invited them to play. He licked and rasped, scraped with his teeth, suckled hard and soft. He put magic into every kiss, every caress, heightening her pleasure into impossible realms.
She arched and lifted, her legs splayed wide. Ribbons of need yanked on her clit. She lost her grip on the blanket and clutched at his scalp, tugging until he followed, lifting until his lips wrapped around her clit and sucked strongly.
Light streaked before her eyes. Her spine twisted. The needy nub contracted in a nearly painful burst of pleasure before expanding to reach for more. Electricity arced between her legs, shooting deep into her belly. She was lost in sensation.
Memory couldn’t compete. Feelings she’d held close to her heart for ten years were blown away by reality. There was no match for what he did to her now, no way to describe how crystal clear this moment was compared to the intoxicating remembrances that were all she’d had over the past decade. Years when her body had cried for him and her brain had coldly told her that she’d been mistaken in what she felt.
There was no mistaking this.
Heat built into an inferno and her skin rippled over her bones, strangling all strength from her muscles as they joined forces in the battle, heaving and waving until she was undulating against his face. Cries flew from her and she couldn’t stop them. She’d torn them from him, now he repaid the favor. Her throat went raw as she screamed her need, her desire, her pleasure. Waves of ecstasy spread between her shaking thighs and detonated in a series of mind-stealing contractions that left her convulsing on the bed.
Time stopped, the earth imploded and the universe ceased to exist as she locked into place, arched against his mouth, trembling against his skilled tongue. He worked her through the shudders that ran the length of her body, easing every drop of pleasure from her contorted frame.
Muscle by muscle, her body unlocked, dropping her back to the mattress. The magic pulled back into Silviu’s soul, leaving Georgie gasping in ragged pants and swallowing against the rawness in her throat. She blinked, hoping to bring sight back to her eyes, but only dancing dots could be seen.
Slowly, Silviu crawled up her body to settle against her side. Small aftershocks raced over her. She was too decimated to resist when he drew her against his chest, but sweeping strokes of his hand over her spine helped her muscles reform.
“Damn, Georgie, that was beautiful.”
She concentrated on breathing and hoped he didn’t expect a reply.
“How long has it been since you were with a man, love?”
“Years,” she managed to croak.
His hand paused on her back, then swept over her again. Long minutes later he tipped her face up to his, examining her eyes with an intensely satisfied grin. “Is your brain working yet?”
She shook her head and pressed her cheek to his chest.
“That’s too bad, love, because I have something to say.”
He gave her another minute to process his words. Then he let loose.
“I would have you without your Family’s power,” he whispered into her hair. “Know that. But also know that I understand how important it is for you to become the Davenold Mother. I will never make you choose.”
She said nothing, only closed her eyes and pressed her nose into his chest, drawing in the earthy scent of clean, satiated male. She let the fluttering warmth in her body begin its decline as her brain finally woke up from its coma.
After a moment, he continued. “You want your power and I want mine. Together, we can have it all, my love. Together we can break through the limits nature has imposed upon us. But only together, a united front. These walls between us have to drop, the secrets need to be shared.”
Still she said nothing, listening to his words, trying to decipher his tone. A cold knot of suspicion was lodged in the back of her mind, pushing at the lassitude of her body. She worried that the hot force doing its best to unravel her distrust of him was nothing more than lust. She was afraid that once the tangle was smooth, her Family would be vulnerable to Silviu’s whims.
He brushed a kiss over her temple and gathered her closer. “We have to be brave enough to trust in each other, Georgie.”
Chapter Twelve
Eliasz
“What do you think the Lovaszes will want in exchange for the only daughter left to their Family?”
Eliasz tried to keep his expression neutral as Daniel settled into the chair. With the Family Father seated and Fredrik already in position behind the desk, Eliasz was left standing. He hitched his hip up on the edge of his father’s desk and crossed his arms. “God only knows. Vasile was talking about stocks in Cousin Josef’s company, but Alexandru waxed poetic on the merits of the Slovakian farmland.”
“Old school.” Daniel tapped his lips. “No one barters for land anymore.”
“He’s part of the older generation,” Fredrik chimed in—ironically, considering his age. “In our day, land was everything. Our fathers had been through too much war and taught us the advantages of property ownership. A place we could defend, rather than an intangible asset.”
“Like it did them any good,” Eliasz said silkily. “Property can still be taken, as can power and position.”
He watched Daniel shift in his chair with no small amount of satisfaction. If any Levy in the world understood the loss of what should have rightfully been theirs, it was Eliasz and Fredrik. Daniel’s grandfather, the former Family Father, would have made certain his heir had a firm understanding of that particular Family skeleton.
They walked a thin line together. The primary and tertiary branches had a long history of avoidance—to the point where Eliasz and Daniel hardly knew anything about the other beyond superficial facts. Both men were wary of the other’s authority. Daniel was the Father and a political powerhouse, but Eliasz was immensely popular with the Levys and immeasurably more gifted with magic. During his visit, Daniel had been calm and polite, obviously watching Eliasz to evaluate the threat he posed.
On one hand, Eliasz couldn’t have cared less how uncomfortable Daniel was. There was no love lost between him and his distant, relatively unknown cousin. On the other hand, Daniel had final say as to whether or not Eliasz could marry Ileana Lovasz.
It was prudent to be diplomatic.
“Thank God those days are behind us.” Eliasz smiled at the new Father. “I can’t imagine witches fighting over land when the non-magical governments of the world could claim it for themselves at any time.”
Daniel elevated his chin. “Our past is filled with conflict. However, I’m not certain better days are ahead of us.”
Eliasz let his grin stretch. “Not an optimist, are you?”
“Not when it comes to the Lovasz Family, no.”
“It’s a good match,” Fredrik said.
Daniel relaxed farther into the cushion of the chair. For a long moment, he simply stared at Fredrik, then he transferred his gaze to Eliasz. “It’s a better match for y
ou, isn’t it?”
Eliasz shrugged, pulling a mantle of indifference over his shoulders. “It would benefit both of our Families.”
“The Lovaszes aren’t that influential.”
“But the Davenolds are.”
“No offense, but you’re only the son of the tertiary head of the massive Levy Coven.” Daniel hefted his body from the chair and made his way to the sideboard. Without asking permission, he helped himself to a glass of well-aged whiskey. “You won’t inherit. Ileana would be marrying beneath her.”
Eliasz unclenched his jaw enough to say, “She’s a Lovasz. There’s no way she can marry beneath her.”
“She’s the daughter of a primary branch.”
“Her child will inherit nowhere else,” Eliasz argued. “But if her son is my son, he will take the tertiary branch. That sounds like a step up to me, an advantage she won’t get elsewhere.”
“Tertiary branch. Is that good enough for you?” Daniel leaned back against the liquor cabinet and sipped his drink. “That’s not why you want Ileana, or an alliance with the Lovaszes, is it?”
Eliasz held his silence, wondering what accusations Daniel was so unsubtly hurling at his head. Their gazes locked, battling in a way that had Eliasz’s heartbeat slowing and his veins tingling with unexpected warmth as adrenaline pumped through his body.
“I’m not angling to be Family Father,” Eliasz finally said. “If that’s what you’re implying.”
Daniel’s expression darkened. “Ah, but there is that old scandal—”
“As political alliances go,” Fredrik intervened in a rush, “this is a very good one for the Levys. As you say, Ileana is the daughter of a primary branch of a magically powerful Family. Her brother is rising through the ranks of influence and will marry Georgeanne Davenold, the heir to the most powerful Motherhouse.”
“Ah, Georgie.” Daniel calmly moved back to his seat, breaking the tension. “That was some excitement at breakfast, wasn’t it?”