by Hazel Hunter
They were almost clumsy in their haste to touch each other. Every scar on Sebastian's body was precious to Nicolette. At first she had hated them for the pain they represented. But now she knew them for what they were. They were a testament to how well he had survived, and how safe he had kept himself for her. As the years went on, she would likely pick up a few scars of her own. But so long as he was with her, she would never bear them alone.
Impulsively, she pushed him down on the bed and began to kiss his scars. She started with the vicious slash on his flank, and moved through them one by one. She knew the stories for a few of them. The others she would learn in time.
At first Sebastian lay still as she kissed him, but in only moments, she heard him moan. She smiled, and kissed the scar on his right bicep again. It was short and deep, a sign of a stab rather than a slash. She ran the tip of her tongue along its length.
“How does it feel?” she whispered.
It took him a moment to respond.
“Sensitive,” he said. “Some of that skin is thick, but it seems to make the area around it more sensitive.”
“Oh good,” she murmured, and she licked the sensitive spot again.
She ended by lightly lapping around the newest scar, still pink from his time in New Mexico. It was a bullet graze, and she couldn’t help but shudder at the risks he ran. Had the gun been aimed only several inches to the left…
It was as though he could tell when her thoughts turned to darker places. He sat up.
“You’re thinking too much,” he whispered hoarsely. “Worrying. Let me take some of that worry away, love.”
He traced the curves of her body with his fingertips, waking up her skin inch by inch. She felt like water in his hands, flowing and peaceful. But as he ghosted his touch over her sensitive nipples and between her parted legs, her body ached for him. She wanted him, as much as she wanted to breathe, but he only teased her, running his clever hands over her again and again.
“This is torture,” she protested through gritted teeth, and his laugh was lighter than she had every heard it.
“It is, but there is an end in sight.”
Instead of rising over her, he rolled her on her side, and curved himself against her back. She could feel his manhood harden against the curve of her rear, and his arm rested heavy along her side. For a long moment, he contented himself with nibbling at her nape and playing with her lobe. But then his hand dipped down between her legs.
“Oh!”
His fingers found her clit with unwavering precision, and with just a few deft and tender strokes, he made her buck against him. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to press forward against his maddening fingers or whether she wanted to press herself back against his hardness, but soon realized that the decision was being taken away from her. She rocked back and forth in the bracket of his arm, and it wasn't long before he was moaning from the feel of her as well.
“Sebastian, I need you now,” she whispered, and she felt as much as heard his agreement whispered against her neck.
The touch of his manhood against her wet cleft made her gasp. She knew he hadn't stopped for a condom. This was a step they were taking together. For her, it would always be him. It would be him forever.
With his hand steadying her hip, he pushed into her with a long and uninterrupted stroke, and then he paused. She felt how full she was with him. His ragged breath brushed against the soft skin of her shoulder.
“Sebastian?”
“Yes?”
“Don't hold back.”
It was as if the words had unchained something deep inside him. The grip he took on her hip was just a little bit short of bruising. He thrust himself to the hilt before withdrawing to thrust again.
She rocked back against him, reveling in the feel of his muscled body, trusting that he wouldn't take his pleasure and leave her behind. After a few hard thrusts, his hand crept around her hip to find her slit. In only moments, his amazing fingers filled her with liquid fire. Insistent and unstopping, they lit her up inside. The mounting tension was nearly unbearable, and yet she couldn’t help but wish it would never stop.
“My beautiful Nicolette,” Sebastian whispered. “Mine forever.”
She thrilled to the possession in his words, open to him in every way she could be, and when her pleasure crested, she dug her nails into his hand and called out his name. Her orgasm flooded forcefully through her, its intensity threatening to break her apart if he wasn't there to hold her together. Her lungs struggled to keep up, riding the crashing wave. Sebastian thrust hard into her, their bodies thudding, as a primal rhythm took over and crescendoed. He pumped furiously, gasping and groaning, until suddenly his breath faltered. Hand still on her mound, he pinned her to him, and spilled hotly inside her.
Full of him, stretched by him, they moaned together. Release mingled with relief as her body went limp and she closed her eyes. His hips jerked erratically as he spent himself, until finally the ecstasy ebbed. For several moments, there was only the sound of their harsh breaths. But as Nicolette struggled to bring her breathing under control, a sudden realization dawned: they would have years and decades and centuries of this. She opened her eyes, only to find they were filled with tears.
“What?” Sebastian asked, his low voice anxious.
Gently, he pulled away from her, and rolled her to her back. Concern furrowed his forehead as he gazed into her eyes.
“Nicolette, what is it? Why the sadness?”
He lightly brushed a thumb over the wetness on her cheek.
“Not sadness,” she whispered. “Happiness. We’re going to be so happy together.”
Sebastian smiled, his eyes and golden aura shining.
“Forever,” he promised, and tenderly sealed it with a kiss.
Excerpt from Logan: Her Warlock Protector Book 3
Caitlin admitted it had been fun flirting with the James Bond wannabe who’d started playing at her table about an hour ago. Basically, the only men in her life were either Schnapps or sometimes bumping into Darren coming home from work. While Darren was hot, he had nothing on the Scotsman, who was every woman’s damn fantasy come to life. He was tall, maybe close to 6’6” with shoulders broad enough to have made Arnold Schwarzenegger in his glory days jealous. Not overly muscled, though. He wasn’t some gym rat who’d pumped steroids into himself. No, he was just tall, broad and gorgeous with eyes the color of winter ice and long black hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. It was oddly outdated and made her think of Gaston from Beauty and the Beast or someone from Revolutionary War history.
It looked amazing on him.
The biggest regret she’d had so far was that the casino had a dress code and that the tuxedo, while it hugged his frame admirably, wasn’t something skin tight or a Speedo. She needed to maybe move to Vegas and deal for a place with a pool. God, she really was pathetic. Still, Mr. MacCulloch was funny, engaging, and always deferred to her. Of course, he was also kicking her butt at the table, which never happened. They worked hard to make sure that the odds favored the House. She’d never seen someone hit a perfect twenty-one four times in a row. The odds on that were astronomical. It was almost a relief when he’d gone bust, proven that he wasn’t perfect. She’d noticed the beads of sweat starting to shine at his temples.
Then he’d touched her hand and everything had gone nuts.
Maybe Caitlin should have been more suspicious sooner, both with his luck and the fact that she hadn’t been able to read him in the cards, almost as if it had been deliberately blocked from her. Still, that one touch had sent electricity flowing all over her, deep into her core, and left her breathless.
But that wasn’t all of it.
That touch had brought out the most all-encompassing vision she’d ever had. For a few brief moments, she wasn’t in The Club Regent any longer. No. She was in a hotel room with sheets that clearly cost as much as a week’s salary, the finest thread count silk, that smoothly ran over her skin. They tickled every part of h
er, naked as she was, and Mr. MacCulloch. No, not like that. It was Logan. She was being held by him. His rugged scent was a mix of potent aftershave but also of some kind of metal, something like steel or copper. It was odd and confusing but nothing was confounding her about the way he held her. His lips were heaven on hers and she fell easily into the kiss, feeling the wetness spreading over her core.
It was the most intimate encounter she’d ever had.
Blinking back the vision, Caitlin stumbled back instantly.
No that hadn’t happened…yet.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
Dear Wonderful Reader,
Thank you so much for spending time with me. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it! My newsletter will let you know about new releases and only new releases. Don’t miss the next sizzling, hot romance! Visit HazelHunter.com/books to find more great stories available today.
XOXO,
Hazel
Copyright © 2015 Hazel Hunter
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
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