Witches Get Stitches by Juliette Cross

Chapter 19

~VIOLET~

Holy hell.What a night. That was the best sex I’ve ever had. And I’ve had my fair share.

I was curled on my side in his bed, having woken up when Fred crowed below the window at dawn. Nico was still sleeping. He lay on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes, the covers down to his waist.

I stared and admired. When I moved a little closer to him, I winced at the delicious soreness all over. We’d done our damnedest to knock quite a few off my list. I’d sent that list in jest, loving to tease Nico.

His playful side had me grinning. His sexy side made my insides liquefy. I tucked my knees a little higher, my hands beneath the pillow under my head, relishing the memory of him last night.

Let’s be honest. I had no idea what I was in for. Whether he liked the label or not, we’d become friends over the past two years. His easygoing though broody nature had me imagining the same kind of lover. Slow and steady. I’d attributed our experience in the supply/sex closet to the build-up of unrequited lust. But I was wrong. So wrong. One-hundred percent alpha fucking male. And I loved it.

When I sighed contentedly, he roused and turned his head. His sleepy eyes took me in and then he smiled before rolling to his side and slipping his hand under the covers and over my bare hip.

“Good morning.”

“Yeah, it is,” I agreed.

“You feel okay?” His brow pinched a little as he glided his warm palm up to my waist then back to my hip.

“Do I look okay?”

He chuckled, his hand sliding farther north, his thumb brushing over a nipple that responded immediately to his touch. Who was I kidding? My whole body was already humming with anticipation.

My gaze roamed over his broad, bronzed chest, the dappling of dark hair there, then down to the darker line on his lower abdomen that disappeared beneath the sheets.

“How long do your boyfriends usually last?” he asked casually.

“Hmm.” I gave that some thought. “About a month. Two if they’re lucky.”

He grinned. “Challenge accepted.”

I bit my lip, wanting to tell him that the reason no one ever lasted was because they weren’t the one my Aunt Beryl had told me about when I was sixteen. And I was still too embarrassed to tell him that I was fairly positive he was the one I’d been waiting for. That we should’ve been doing this a year ago when he came to New Orleans. But I just couldn’t get the words out.

I let my gaze wander the width and breadth of his beautiful chest for a few seconds, while I enjoyed the slow caress of his hand. When I finally looked back up, he wore an expression of pure amusement.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked softly.

“Murphy’s Outfitters.”

“What?” I laughed, wondering what the hell he was talking about.

He smirked. “It’s this great place in San Antonio. They have the best Stetson cowboy hats.” His hand now completely covered one breast, mounding lightly then plucking at my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “I’m buying you one for your next birthday. You earned it last night.”

“Never knew I had the skill to ride a bull like that,” I teased, though my voice had already gone breathy and quiet.

“I did. I was just waiting for you to give me a chance and saddle up.”

I spread my palm across his muscled chest, circling my own thumb over his nipple. Two could play at that game.

“Maybe we’re all done,” I kept taunting. “Maybe you fucked all the lust out of me last night.”

His hand on my breast slid lower between my legs, one finger stroking my slit. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

“Not sure my body can handle another round.”

He eased closer and rolled me over to face the window. I felt his body shift on the mattress then heard the crinkle of the condom wrapper before he put it on then pulled me against him till my shoulders were pressed to his chest, his erection against my ass.

He dipped his mouth close to my ear, “I can be gentle, too.” He sucked on my earlobe and nipped lightly.

“Nico,” I breathed, already desperate for him again. I clenched my nails into the side of his hip, whimpering with achy need.

What was this madness?

“Let me take care of you, baby.” He lifted my top leg and draped it back over his, opening my legs wide before pushing slowly inside me.

I winced a little at the soreness. He stopped, sweeping tongue-laden kisses down my neck to my shoulder then back up. I sighed, the slight pain giving way to languid pleasure.

He covered my mound with his palm, rubbing slow circles with just his middle finger as he pumped his dick with tender strokes, his mouth attentive to my neck, sweeping softly with lips and tongue. I dug my fingers in harder at his hip, rocking back with his tempo, trying to get him deeper.

“Goodness,” I exhaled.

“It is,” he whispered, sucking harder at the base of my neck. “So fucking good.”

Then he lifted his palm away and slid his middle finger into my mouth. I sucked and twirled my finger around it, letting him pull it back out with a graze of my teeth. He growled, pumping a little harder but still nice and slow as he slicked that finger around my swollen nub.

“I know I’m a greedy bastard,” he rumbled, still nipping and sucking right below my ear. “But I need to feel you come on my cock again before I can start the day.” He placed a gentle kiss on my jaw. “Better than Wheaties.”

I laughed, but then it was sucked right out of me as he stoked me higher with a deep hard thrust. My brain started to haze. His finger left my clit, and I whimpered, but he gripped my inner thigh and hiked my leg higher so that he was stroking deeper than before, hitting me in that perfect sweet spot.

I released his hip and reached in front of me to grip the edge of the mattress, jutting my ass back for him.

“Deeper,” I mumbled into the pillow.

He lifted onto his elbow, half folding on top of me and did just that, growling when my orgasm came swift and hard.

I was boneless beneath him as he kept his pace less punishing than last night, grinding in a circle when he was sheathed deep. With all my bravado, I was all ridden out, so I let him do all the work and take his pleasure at leisure, buzzing from the drunk-like endorphins rocketing through me.

When he finally groaned, falling near on top of me, his cock swelling and pulsing with release, I reached back haphazardly and patted his hip.

“Good boy,” I whimpered, half into the pillow and breathless.

His laughter rumbled into my back. He pressed a soft kiss to my shoulder. “Let’s get a shower.”

I whipped my head around to look at him. “Are you crazy? I’m not ticking that one off the list right now.”

“Just a shower.” He smiled, a tender expression on his face.

“I can’t move right now. Go take yours first.”

He popped out of bed, holding himself to keep the condom on, completely unfazed by our sex marathon as he went into the bathroom. Freaking werewolves and their endurance. Guess the rumors were true.

I heard the shower turn on, then he was striding back in having disposed of the condom, all swagger and sinfully sexy.

“Ugh. Stop looking so hot. My body just can’t take anymore right now.” I shook my head as he dipped down to pick me up. “I can’t believe I’m even admitting that. It’s embarrassing to tell the truth.”

“Don’t you worry. I’m going to take care of you.”

Did he ever. He set me on my feet in the shower and proceeded to wash me clean with strong hands. He washed and conditioned my hair with languorous slowness.

His perfect hands slid over my sensitive skin but never sought to arouse me, even though I noticed he was semi-hard again. After he quickly washed his hair, he turned off the water and helped me out. Then dried me off.

“I could get used to this,” I murmured as he ran a towel over my hair.

He wrapped the towel around my body, tucking the edge in at my breasts. He gripped my hips and pulled me against him. “Then get used to it,” he said, coaxing my mouth apart and slid his tongue inside.

I combed my fingers into the damp strands of his hair, clenching tighter when he sucked on my tongue. Now he was fully hard again. I pulled apart and glanced down at his impressive erection pressing into the terrycloth covering my belly.

“You have got to be kidding me. What are you made of?”

He cupped my face, bringing my attention back up to him. His expression so sweet as he brushed damp strands of hair away from my face. “Never dated a werewolf, I see.”

“No one told me the stamina thing was for real.”

“Now you know what you’re in for.” He arched a brow in challenge. “Unless you can’t handle it.”

I narrowed my gaze. “Don’t even.” I gripped his cock and gave it a stroke. “But we’ll have to do this another way.”

He smiled tenderly, wrapped his hand around my wrist, and gently pulled my hand away. “No need to take care of it. He pretty much remains at attention when you’re around.”

Grinning, I slid my hands along his waist. “Really?”

“Why the hell you think I’ve been in a bad mood the past year since I moved here?”

My laughter belted out.

He joined me, but a wash of sincerity flowed across those deep green eyes. He pressed a swift kiss to my lips. “Get dressed and come down for breakfast.”

He patted my behind and slipped out of the bathroom. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt before heading downstairs.

As I got dressed in last night’s clothes, I figured there was no rush in telling him about Aunt Beryl’s premonition. And my own stupidity. Because then I’d have to admit that my feelings for him were well beyond where they should be for a couple who’d just started dating.

I knew he’d wanted me for a long time; the sexual tension between us had attested to that. But I also didn’t know how much his heart was involved. Like mine.

Call me a coward, but I wanted to be sure he felt even close to what I felt before I admitted it. This wasn’t dating. This was walking down your forever path. I needed to know he wanted to go with me.

* * *

I was sittingin the big comfortable chair I had in my workspace, reading the addendums of Marigold Lord’s book. There was actually one that spoke specifically to the ancient art of tattooing spells.

The part that interested me the most and had me riveted was the incantation of a Celtic druid named Cathbad who was also a powerful Divine Seer. It said that he would use the incantation to seal and activate the spell after it was put on the skin of the supernatural. It was in Gaelic but loosely translated to, “Bind the elements to nature’s power and magnify the magic within this host.”

It wasn’t poetic or pretty. Well, actually, in Gaelic it was, but the words themselves didn’t spark me as riveting. Only the tingling sensation of my own magic humming under my skin as I read it told me this was significant.

The only thing was that this was the sort of incantation that seemed to match a warlock or witch. Even a vampire or grim. Because you would want to amplify their magic. But that wasn’t exactly what we did want for a werewolf. We didn’t want to increase his potency or strength, but to give him the power to wield it. Still, these words were close.

I typed the incantation in my notes section of my phone when Livvy came storming in, her expression tight as she stretched out in my client chair with a huff then crossed both forearms over her eyes. “Looks like you have something to tend to.”

I set aside the book and moved to sit on my stool and rolled up to the reclining chair. “What’s this about?”

She wrenched her arms away from her eyes, full lips pursed with aggravation. “Can you do one of your charmed tattoos that prevents the effect of grims?”

This was interesting. “What kind of effect?”

She snapped her gaze to mine. “You know what I mean. To block their grimness. That thing they do, making you think and feel things you don’t want to.”

Smirking, I pressed both palms onto the seat of my stool, propping my boots on the rungs. “The enchanted tattoos don’t work that way. Besides, the grim aura just taps into your darker feelings, ones that are already there under the surface. You know this.”

Her glare escalated to a death-stare before she looked at the ceiling in deep thought. “Maybe Clara or Isadora has something at Maybelle’s that can help me.”

She was an eclectic dresser, but today she wore a black pencil skirt, fitted mauve blouse that matched her lipstick, and strappy platform shoes. The one sign of her personality was the enamel pin of a gold dragon with ruby red eyes on her lapel.

“Where’ve you been?” I asked, thinking maybe this would give me more information on her current state of duress.

She shot up into a sitting position, blazing with anger. “To the last interview before they choose finalists for the contest. And that asshat grim did nothing but gloat, like he already knew he had it in the bag. If he makes the finals with me, he’s going to need a serious attitude adjustment or I’m going to wipe that superior smile right off his face.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. This was not Livvy. She didn’t get ruffled easily, if at all. “What does he do that bothers you so much?”

“Breathes.” She narrowed her blue eyes, getting that far-off look as if imagining what she wanted to do to her enemy.

Oh, hell. I think I knew what was going on. My psychic eye buzzed in agreement. “And what does this grim aura make you feel, sis?”

She snapped her gaze back to me. Then she zoned in on my neck, her demeanor shifting dramatically. “You little ho.” She swung her legs over the side to face me, her expression positively gleeful. “You finally did the deed with Nico!”

“Can you say it louder? Because I don’t think the whole building heard you.”

“We did,” Sean called from the front lobby.

She clapped her hands together then reached over and grabbed my shoulders to shake me back and forth.

“What is this?” I laughed at her theatrics.

“I’m so excited!”

“Why?”

She stopped shaking me like a ragdoll then rolled her eyes. “Why? Because you two have been circling each other for forever. The amount of pheromones you’ve both been putting off could impregnate a nunnery.”

“Should I be worried that you think people can get pregnant from pheromones?”

She batted my factual words away. Far be it from me to make some sense.

“Tell me,” she whispered. “How was it?”

To say I couldn’t stop the maniacal grin that creased my face was an understatement. It was a natural response to the mention of Nico and our sexathon last night.

“Yes! We should celebrate. Are you done for the day?” She glanced around as if waiting to find a client lurking in a corner.

“Yeah.” I stood and put the book in my backpack to carry home. Jules would kill me if I left this book lying around. “Can we run by the house first so I can drop this off?”

“Of course. Then let’s go to the pub.”

“I should do some work on the inventory,” I mumbled to myself, feeling like I should be working longer hours to be sure everything was perfect before the grand opening celebration.

“Nope.” She popped off the reclining chair, linked her arm with mine, and hauled me off my stool. “Time for booze and details. Let’s go.”

I sighed while laughing as Livvy led the way because she wasn’t a force you could stop once she set her mind on something.