She strokes me up and down, and my pleasure pushes me toward the edge. I force the tide of desire back. Not yet. Not quite yet.
“I want you,” she says, her tone changing, softening. “I want you inside of me.”
“I don’t think we can. Remember? The knot is made for minotaur females.”
“Witches are tough. I like the danger of it. I can handle it.”
“No, Tully. I am not going to hurt you.”
She releases me, pushes me to my back, and climbs on top of me. The evil grin on her lips makes my cock jerk under her. I grip her underthings and rip until I feel hot flesh through the fabric of my trousers. She lifts herself, tugs my trousers down, and then it’s just her core on my cock, sliding slightly and making it very hard to breathe.
“Gods, Tully. I’m going to come right now.”
“No, you are not. I want my fun first.”
“I can do it again.”
“No. This time,” she says, “I’m in charge.”
With her wand uplifted, she produces a rope seemingly from the air, and after setting her wand beside me, she quickly binds my hands over my head. She’s threaded the rope through the wooden slats of the headboard. She tilts her head like she’s thinking. Her gaze goes to my desk and soon my glasses are soaring from the drawer and into her hand. She opens them carefully and slides them onto my nose.
“Glasses?”
Grinding on me, she practically purrs. “Yes, I adore your slutty little glasses.”
I’m barely hanging on, my body buzzing and burning with the urge to finish this.
“I have something to show you,” she says.
She unlaces the outer corset over her dress, her fingers slow and sensual. Sliding her dress off her shoulders, she begins to bare her breasts to me, inch by smooth and glorious inch. I grit my teeth, my pulse throbbing in my cock beneath her heat.
There it is.
A mate’s mark.
“Tully.”
Her gaze loses its usual flame of confidence and wariness tightens the corners of her eyes. Looking down at her chest, she traces the shape of the mark. A heart symbol rules the center like every mark, but tiny gears circle the symbol.
I meet her gaze, my chest aching with love for this powerful, sharp-edged witch. “You see my inventive nature.”
Biting her lip, she nods.
“Pull my tunic down. Rip it if you like,” I say.
She tilts her head and narrows her eyes. “All right.”
Instead of using her hands, she takes her wand and aims it at my tunic. She whispers something I can’t hear clearly.
Starting at the opening near my collarbone, I watch the fibers of my tunic unravel in a neat line straight down the middle.
Tully gasps. “You have one too.” Her eyes glisten and she bites her lip again. She draws her fingertip over the mark’s sparks of magic and a sweet smile graces her mouth. “I never thought I would have one of these.”
“On yourself or on someone else?”
“Both. Either. Neither.”
I buck against her. “You either need to get to work on me, my mate, or untie me so I can. This torture has gone on long enough.”
