He slowed, sprinkling kisses on my skin. “I can’t keep this pace, sweetheart.”
I didn’t need him to, as I quickly adapted to his size again. “It’s okay. Harder.”
“Fuck,” he groaned, quickening his speed. “You feel so good, baby.”
He slammed harder into me, the slapping sound of our bodies connecting filling the room. The stretch still slightly burned, but I loved having him in me. Loved the connection of our bodies. Of his joining with me. I wanted to be annoyed and disturbed by his possessiveness, but I also got high on it. Enjoyed how much he wanted to care for me, even if it felt irrational. Maybe that was toxic, but I knew, deep down, it was because he’d deprived us of a relationship all these years, and I wanted this to be ourtime just as much as he did. I wanted this to work, despite the nagging feeling of fear edging around us. I still needed answers about what the warlock said, but I understood that he needed this break. And hell, so did I.
He continued to thrust into me, filling me. He covered me in skin-bruising kisses and tiny bites that bordered on pain. However, the pain only turned me on more. His fingers moved between my legs, swiping over my clit, and I cried into the pillow. I ground on his fingers as he slapped his body into mine, his movements rapid and almost punishing. It felt both like too much and just enough. I couldn’t make sense of it. The overstimulation from his hands, hips, and mouth. He knew my body; even in this state, he knew what to do.
“Harris, I’m going to come.”
“Do it, do it now,” he replied gruffly. His voice was strained with need and command that compelled me. “I want to feel your pussy twitch around me. That would feel so good, baby.”
Well, that did it. I never thought I was a dirty talk girl until Harris. It was as if his voice could shoot straight to my clit because, in no time, I came. My body shook around his hand as I pushed back to meet his thrust.
He raised my hips, forcing my ass higher in the air, and began to pound into me with wild abandon. His grip on me was tight, his fingers digging into my skin. I could feel him losing control, and I let him, enjoying this side of him despite the pinch of pain. And then he came. His hips jutted forward as he released a string of curse words.
He slowed down his pace until he came to a stop. I felt like Jello and collapsed on the bed, needing a moment to regain my movements. However, Harris still had energy because he got off the bed and disappeared. I vaguely heard water running, and when he returned, I felt the wet warmth of a washcloth between my legs.
“How thoughtful,” I said into the pillow.
He chuckled, and then I felt his fingertips between my legs. Except it wasn’t sexual. He was spreading something that felt like a cool balm over my lower lips.
“What is that?” I asked, twisting my head sideways.
“Healing balm,” he replied before spreading it over part of my ass. “I got a little zealous. I’m sorry.”
I sighed, relishing in the care. I was so satiated that I no longer focused on any aching, although I knew that wouldn’t last long. It was thoughtful of him to immediately think of that before snuggling up beside me. Harris was nothing if not considerate, even if his care could morph into something bordering on obsessive and overprotective. I’d have to handle his good and bad while still showing I appreciated his effort. “It’s okay.”
I felt his lips on my right butt cheek, and my stomach fluttered.
“No, it’s not.” He spread the balm on my hips. “I won’t let this happen again.”
I then felt him spread the balm on parts of my back and shoulder. Was it that bad? I mean, I kind of felt the intensity, but I was so otherwise engaged in the pure pleasure he was giving me, I didn’t think twice about it. If I had any energy, I would get up and look in the mirror. “Thank you for taking care of me, but I didn’t hate it. We can do it like that from time to time.”
He left a feathery kiss on the center of my back. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He then placed the balm on the bedside table and settled beside me, his chest to my side.
I turned my head to face him, still utterly relaxed. “Now will you tell me what the warlock said?”
He sighed. “Like a dog with a bone.”
I barked at him, causing a deep chuckle to escape from him. “Fine, princess. You should know anyway. I thought I would get more answers from him. That someone hired him to do this. That would make sense. His doing this alone, thinking he’dnever get caught, would be foolish. Not to mention just staying where he was instead of leaving town. That was a bold move, even if someone had hired him. It was like he was waiting for us. Or, rather, had such confidence, he didn’t think anyone would discover him. He admitted to doing it, after a bit of…persuasion, but when I asked him why, he didn’t give me a reason.”
“Like he was hiding something?”
Harris twisted his lips, unsettled. “It didn’t seem that way. We didn’t detect any lying or a spell that was preventing him from telling the truth. He just kept saying he had to kill me, but he didn’t know why. I don’t know his acting skills; I’d only worked with him a few times, including when we rescued your father. However, he was quite convincing. I’ve never wronged him before and paid him very well for his services. He had no reason that I could think of to hate me. Not even as vengeance against something a relative or my father did in the past. I gave him every opportunity. I thought maybe there was confusion about something, but he wouldn’t say.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. So, he removed the curse?”
“He was less than willing.”
I moved to face him fully, the balm dulling any aches, and my energy slowly returning. “I don’t get it, Harris. If he didn’t know why he cursed us, then why wouldn’t he end it?”
He pushed a few of my braids over my shoulder, exposing my bare chest to him. He was going to get distracted, I could feel it. “I wish I had answers for you, baby, but I couldn’t get any more. He was actually really hostile. I could feel the hatred toward me coming out in waves. He hated me so much that he wanted me dead but yet could not tell me why. Did not know why. Just that he hated me and wished I would die. He tried to attack me even. If someone is using him, he doesn’t know who or when it happened, and they were very good at covering their presence.”
I narrowed my eyes, already knowing the answer to the question I had to ask. “So how did you get him to break the spell? Threats?”
A steely look passed over his blue eyes, and he looked away. “He didn’t care about threats. Not to himself or his family, even, which he didn’t have much of. Just some distant relatives. No significant others or children. Pain didn’t work either. He barely spoke except to wish me dead. If I hadn’t had a body ward on at the time, he would have succeeded because he didn’t care about his well-being. The only time I’ve seen anyone that resistant to torture or threats was when they were bespelled to do so. Or just resigned to give in. Either way, there’s no changing their minds when they behave as if they have nothing to lose or fear. I was only left with one option to break the curse.”
