Instead, he switches positions, moving underneath me so I’m straddling him. Gripping the headboard for support, I rock my hips, going faster and faster. I’ve only been able to come from penetration with Ethan, which I think is half because we connect on a physical and emotional level unlike anyone else.
And he’s just good in bed.
He grips my waist, driving me down onto him as he bucks his hips, hitting me at a new angle. It’s all I need to come for the third time, and my pussy tightens around his cock. I pitch forward, breasts in his face, loudly moaning. He comes right after that, and his pulsing cock inside of me feels so damn good, I almost come again.
We both stay there, locked together, for a moment. Once my heart rate slows down, I grab his boxers from the foot of the bed and use them to wipe up the mess before falling onto the mattress. I want so badly to fall asleep now, floating on the after-bliss of amazing sex. But in the back of my mind, I know I need to get up, pee, brush my teeth, and maybe take my makeup off.
“You’re falling asleep,” Ethan says, sounding just as content and tired as I feel.
“I know.” I force my eyes open but they shut again only a second later. A few more minutes pass before we’re able to leave our bed and stagger into the bathroom.
I get back into bed feeling completely relaxed, soaking in just how freaking nice it is to be able to let my guard down like this. Ethan and I have been here in Thorne Hill for roughly four months now, and I’m still so grateful for whatever protection spell lies on this house. I didn’t realize before how I hardly ever let my guard down—all the way down—until I moved here with Ethan.
“What should we do tomorrow?” I ask Ethan, tracing an outline of one of his tattoos with my finger.
He drapes his arm around me and covers us both back up. Hunter, my familiar who takes the form of a German shepherd, lazily saunters into the room, plopping down on his large dog bed near the door of our room.
“It’s been a few days since we’ve practiced hand-to-hand combat. Are you still sore?” He does little to hide the amusement in his voice.
“Hey,” I shoot right back, slitting my eyes open to look at him. They don’t stay open long, and I nestle my head against his shoulder. “I was sore from riding both horses in one day. I haven’t jumped in weeks, and that is why I was sore.”
“Sure it was.” Ethan tightens his hold on me, kissing my forehead before letting out a satisfied sigh. “We’ll figure it out in the morning. Let’s go to bed, babe.”
“Good idea,” I say sleepily. “It’s supposed to be warm-ish tomorrow. For January, I mean.”
“Okay.” He strokes my hair, not following my rather vague train of thought. “Maybe we can tackle some outside work then.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of going through another box or two in the attic.”
“It’s going to be warmer than today, but not that warm,” he reminds me. Since we moved into this century-old house I inherited from my great-aunt, we’ve been slowly going through the mass of junk left in the attic. And by junk, I mean just that: whoever renovated this house took everything from the main living areas and shoved it into the attic. It’s a wonder that floor hasn’t collapsed, really.
But more than wanting to make the attic not look like a setting for Hoarders, we’re hoping to find answers. I’m still just as clueless as to why Aunt Estelle bound my witch-powers and took away my memories. We were forced to move from Syracuse, New York to the estate she left me in Thorne Hill, Indiana—all because of demon attacks caused by my aunt’s interference. I’m hoping the attic will hold the clues to this deadly mystery.
Though we do have an idea why the demon Astaroth went after me in the first place, and—no surprise—it all goes back to a memory spell Aunt Estelle wove into my head. If she’d just told me the truth from the start, maybe my friends would all be alive. It pisses me off just thinking about it and, with my newly developing powers, getting pissed the fuck off from just a thought is dangerous.
Can you blame me, though? Leslie is dead. She died a painful, terrifying death all because demonic bounty hunters were sent after me. And, it turns out, their master wanted revenge after my aunt helped locate her, aiding in a ritual that bound her demonic entity to a human body, rendering her powerless.
Once my aunt died, the binding spell weakened, and Astaroth set out to seek whatever vengeance she could. My aunt was long gone, so the demon went after her next of kin. Which is me. Lucky, I know. I did literally nothing to hurt this demon—whom I didn’t even know existed—and yet she was hellbent on getting back at me.