Pyromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts 1)

After years of hiding and watching, imagining what it would feel like, she finally knew. The visuals from her memories made the experience double as powerful. She knew his cheeks hollowed when he sucked her tongue into his mouth. She knew his left cheek dimpled when he tasted the outline of her lips with unconcealed hunger. She knew the square line of his jaw hardened when he nipped her bottom lip before dragging it out.

Oh, God, this was hot. Threading her fingers through his hair, she held him close. The strands were surprisingly soft. The moment she touched him, he deepened the kiss, infusing it with an urgency that had alarm bells go off in her mind, but his gentle hands on her hips gave her unspoken assurance.

She returned the kiss with matching wildness. It was like falling from heaven into the lap of a dark angel. The searing heat melted her reason. It was only when he popped the button of her shorts with effortless precision that she came to her senses.

Panting, she pulled away.

He folded a hand around her nape and dragged her back. “Shh. Let me touch you. I only want to make you come.”

Flames leapt in her stomach. He was her first love, her first kiss—Iwig excluded, but that didn’t count—and it only seemed right that he’d be her first orgasm.

“Joss.” She rubbed against him.

“Fuck, yeah. Say it just like that, sweet girl.”

Claiming her mouth again, he slipped a hand inside her shorts, under the elastic of her underwear. Lightly, like a reverent touch, he traced the seam of her folds. When he reached her clit, she jerked.

“You’re sensitive,” he said, making it sound like the sweetest praise.

Gathering her wetness, he rubbed a circle around the bundle of nerves. The pleasure that shot through her body arched her hips. She’d never touched herself like this, couldn’t make herself do it, not even in the darkness of her room alone in her bed, not when she’d be forced to come out of hiding and face herself. Hiding was safer, easier. There was no hiding from the raw sensation that strangled her insides as he dipped a finger inside and pushed the pad of his thumb on her clit.

She gripped his shoulders, leaning back to give him better access. “Oh, my God.”

“Feel it,” he said against her neck. “I’m going to make it good for you.”

Reason dissipated as her mind splintered into a thousand shooting stars. Only need remained, locking her in the physical moment.

Boldness she’d never feel in daylight made her say, “Make me come.”

He kissed her neck, sucking her skin hard enough to leave a hickey. “You can count on that.”

It only took one more flick of his thumb before the orgasm crashed through her. It was liberating and scary, exactly how she’d imagined it would be with him. It left her feeling both vulnerable and strong, a beautiful duality of completion.

He gave her control, letting her ride his fingers until she collapsed against his chest, and then he took it back with a fist in her hair and his lips on hers.

The kiss was different. It didn’t feel like giving any longer. This was taking. She could barely keep up, her jaw hurting from the strain and her lungs begging for air.

Desperate for a breath, she pushed on his chest. He broke the kiss to lift her to her feet with his hands around her middle. She looked down in confusion as he gripped her shorts and pulled them down her thighs.

“Wait,” she said, grabbing his hands.

He stilled. “I just want to feel you. Nothing you don’t want is going to happen.”

His voice was less slurry, as if desire had cleared his head. She trusted him. She’d never forgotten what he’d said to Iwig, but then Erwan’s words slammed into her mind, and her lust shriveled in shame.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“You’re with someone.”

He chuckled. “Yeah. I’m with you.”

“I mean another woman.”

His lush lips tilted. “Are you the jealous type?”

She wasn’t going to admit to something she had no right feeling. “Are you?”

“I don’t share,” he said with a dark glint in his eyes, “so you have nothing to worry about.”

“But—”

“Take off your shorts.”

The command had been spoken with enough dominance to make it easy for her to obey. Just this once. She wanted to own this secret.

When she’d shimmied out of her shorts and underwear, he took her hands. “Now come back here.”

He pulled her down to straddle him again. Her back arched when her naked folds touched his jean-clad thigh. “Ah, Joss.”

“Feel good?” he murmured, pressing a kiss against the shell of her ear.

“God, yes.”

Dragging her up over his groin with his hands under her arms, he said in a husky voice, “Ride my cock.”

The hard rod between his legs parted her folds, the rough edge of the zipper seam adding friction as she glided her body over his length. It felt better than anything, even more so when he flicked down the other cup of her bra and palmed her breasts.