Free Gone With the Witch by Annette Blair

she tried.
    Finally she ended up naked and spread-eagle on her belly on top of him, except that she was facing the foot board and he was facing ... well ... enough of a dis tr ac tion for her to cuff his ankles. His last wrist was a no cuff, but that was okay, because she liked having that arm around her as she snuggled in beside him and pulled the covers over them both.
    "Is this it?" he asked. "One arm is all 'I get?"
    "Yes. I need some sleep."
    "That sucks. I'd like to hold you with both arms while we sleep." "It won't stop at holding."
    "I have control," he said. "I'm not an animal."
    "You have too much con tr ol," she said turning to face him. "I'm the animal." She growled like a hungry wildcat. "You're not safe from me. Ergo, you're in protective custody."
    chapter fifteen
    •
    A few hours after falling asleep, Storm woke to the familiar sound of a crying baby. Aiden was already awake and watching her, his morning boner saluting like a good little—no big—soldier, his free hand cupping a breast. She didn't have to think twice. She grabbed the breast-happy hand, jumped up, and cuffed that wrist to the bed.
    Aiden sputtered and cursed her witchy ancestors back to Lili in
Scotland. "I can't believe you did that:' he shouted, but his fury ended abruptly when she grabbed a cher ry condom, tore the packet open with her teeth, and straddled him for a morning ride.
    Though Aiden groaned at the near skin-to-skin contact, he shouted for her to look him in the eye when she slipped her hand in his briefs, and having him hold her gaze cap tive was mesmerizing and quite the added tu rn -on. She grabbed his cock, sheathed it by Braille in its cher ry slicker, then she slipped his saluting soldier into her warm, pulsing self.
    Aiden raised his hips off the bed with a roar of satisfaction, and as she rode him, he continued roaring and shout ing, loud and vocal ... almost as loud and explicitly vocal as her. Three weeks in the making, with a slow, sweet burn that might freak lesser mortals, this mating was worth every spark of torture.
    Nothing had ever felt so good, so long, or so perfectly made to fit snug and deep down inside while stroking impossible-to-reach depths and raising her to impossibleto-reach heights.
    Between them, they'd honed abstinence and staying power to a science; only look at the night of sexual torture they'd just survived.
    This was Aiden, the man who'd touched an unnamed yearning in her at first sight, the m an she'd teased—who'd teased her—for three merciless weeks, who'd suckled her breasts and made her come at every opportunity, despite the clothes between them, the man who came, himself, more often than not, as a result of the same torture.
    They had tested each other to that endless most frustrat ing brink and never consummated their mutual sexual hunger for each other—not even during the ritual midsum mer bathing, her naked in the sea and him ready to pop the zipper on his khaki shorts. All that waiting and foreplay had gone into preparing them for this moment, this cataclysmic mating.
    Storm felt like a goddess as she rode him, head high, hair thrown back, her wild mount bucking beneath her, taking her to a world unknown, but making her crave the jour ney the more for his expertise.
    She rode him hard and put all of herself into this mutual inferno, as did he, his attention as much on her pleasure as his own.
    Panting to increase her staying power when she felt her self rising too high, too fast, too close to the pinnacle of sat isfaction, she begged him to stay with her. But she needn't have bothered. He urged her to greater heights with a patience and enthusiasm like no m an she'd known.
    His warmth and caring touched her in that scary emo tional place, but with Aiden, she made the journey anyway,
    and as her orgasm overtook her, she flew from her body to a trembling zenith, a place of prismatic stars, magick crystals, and brilliant joy.
    Wild and soul shattering, body-trembling multiples