Page 38 of Moth to a Flame

He didn’t need to warn me. I could feel it building in our bond and between my legs. It was my turn to squirm, pressing my thighs together to try and get just a bit more friction for myself. Then his hand wrapped around my thigh and tugged until I was perched over his face again.

His tongue latched over my clit and tugged in the same rhythm as I bobbed my head, and magic, heat, desire, and the sweet taste of him turned into a heady drug that had my mind floating on a cloud of ecstasy.

It didn’t take long after that, our bodies building together and feeding off one another.

I squeezed him, pumping faster, and took him as deep as I could before my lips and throat protested. I hollowed my cheeks and swallowed one more time, sending us both over the edge.

“Fuck!” he cried out, and my throat filled with more of that hot, sweet cum, each pulse coating a different part of my mouth and mirroring the waves of my own orgasm.

With each one, I teased him with my tongue until he was completely spent. When his muscles finally relaxed and mine stopped shaking, I swallowed it all one last time.

His legs twitched, and I released him gently before climbing off him. He looked completely fucked out, and a satisfaction I could barely comprehend washed over me.

Was this the post-nut clarity men were always talking about? Damn, they had it good, didn’t they?

I moved closer to his face, making sure he was still breathing, and saw wetness glittering in streaks on his cheeks.

“Are you crying?”

“You damn near just sucked my soul out through my dick. You’re lucky that’s all I’m doing,” he said, breathless.

But no embarrassment rose with it, and of that I was glad. I flopped down beside him and kissed the tears off his cheek.

It was a little sweet too.

I curled my arm beneath his neck, and he rolled into me easily. For the first time in a long time, every single part of me felt good. Lighter than I’d felt in years.

I didn’t want that feeling to end.

But he had a family he loved and cared for, and I could tell he was anxious to get back to them.

And I would break this bond for him.

He deserved a lot more than being tied to a cursed witch who couldn’t even order takeout without almost getting a restraining order placed on her. So I’d break this bond. I’d do it for him so he could go back home.

But…I was selfish.

I’d been alone for so long, and I wanted to pretend this could be more than just a temporary stop on the road. For just one night, I wanted him to be mine.

“You could stay here tonight…if you want.”

Stupid, why was that so hard to say?

But as I said it, the deep, electric feeling of my magic moved with it. I felt a little bit like I’d tried to light a candle or help a flower bloom, except I hadn’t done anything.

“I’d like that,” he mumbled, already half asleep, his head on my stomach.

I reached down and ran my fingers through his hair, careful of his antennae, and a perfect and inescapable sleepiness passed down the bond.

“Get some rest, Hawk.”

“You’ve got it, boss.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Magic Tricks

The next week passed in a haze of research and much less productive activities. No longer compelled to ignore the spiraling heat in our bond, we found ourselves being unproductive multiple times a day, and I’d greatly enjoyed ending each day in her bed, in her arms.