Magical Midlife Meeting (Leveling Up 5)

I groaned, dropping my head back, sliding my palm along his hard length. He moved to the other nipple, his teeth scraping against it, sending a little jolt of pain before he sucked, filling my world with pleasure.

He spun me around and, with a palm to the center of my back, pushed me forward. My hands hit the flat surface of the kitchen island. He gripped my hips and thrust forward.

My moan as uninhibited as his, I let my eyes flutter shut with the sensation, so gloriously filled up. He reached around me and continued massaging as he made good on his promise and pounded into me without mercy, pushing me higher with each thrust. Consuming me with each slide of his large, hard length.

I couldn’t tell where my world began and ended. I couldn’t control my magic or keep it in as the pleasure soared, as my heart—and his—matched it. I hit a peak yet continued climbing. Power pumped through the room, blistering in intensity but delicious in feel, scraping against my skin and cutting into his. He yanked me back by my hair, gripping me against his chest as he thrust like a wild thing, claiming me in body and spirit.

Writhing against him, goading him with magic, crying out from the onslaught, I pushed him on, wanting it all, needing to consume every piece of him, utterly lost to the feel of his body and the incredible sensations filling my world.

He growled with his release, shuddering against me. I cried his name with mine, practically convulsing against him. Magic and pleasure and passion boiled through me before calming, leaving behind a vibrating sort of bliss.

Our rough breathing filled the silent room.

He pulled out of me and turned me around, capturing my chin in his fingers and looking deeply into my eyes. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to. I could see the intense emotion soaking through his eyes, feel it through the link and the beating of his heart in my chest. My emotions were every bit as strong, but for some reason I couldn’t vocalize them. Something was blocking me from moving to the next level with Austin. But it wasn’t fear or logic. It wasn’t anything trivial like worry about moving on too soon after the divorce.

It was that unnamed darkness within me, I could feel it. It was my gargoyle—or the beast, as Austin called it. It wanted something more. A payment in blood, as was the Ivy House way. But what kind of payment?

I didn’t know what would satisfy this strange craving I could feel slicing into my bones.

I didn’t know if I could ever rest easy until it was sated.

As if understanding my turmoil, knowing what I felt and wanted to say but couldn’t, Austin smirked, unworried.

“You’re mine, and I mean to prove it. I’ll wrestle that beast until it submits.” His kiss was bruising. My passion ratcheted up to impossible levels. “In the meantime, I plan to make you scream so hard you go hoarse.” He picked me up and threw me over his shoulder, carrying me to bed like a caveman, dragging out my excited laughter. “You will declare your feelings. It’s only a matter of time.”

Eight

The cool evening worried my hair. Shadows lurked at the bases of the trees at the edge of the grass in my backyard, growing denser, some already seeming solid. The metal of the lounge chair I was sitting on had started to chill.

One week to go.

I had one week before the to-do at Elliot Graves’s place.

One week until we were essentially locked in a mountain, our wings no good. I’d have to rely heavily on my magic and the few weapons I could stash on my person. I’d have to rely on the team we put together.

Spells tumbled through my mind, crammed in there from all the intense practice and studying I had been doing. Even so, I was far from ready for someone like Elliot Graves. We all knew that. Nor was I sneaky or cunning like the other mages he’d almost certainly invited. I didn’t know how to play false to someone’s face with the intent of physically stabbing them in the back. The best I could do was fake politeness, like at a dinner party from my Jane years, and I wouldn’t even be able to manage that if someone messed with Austin. Since that night at his house a week ago, when he’d cooked shirtless and then made love to me until the first rays of the sun lightened the horizon, I was not even remotely rational where he was concerned. I completely flew off the handle if anyone threatened or maligned him in any way.

There’d been an episode at the bar the other night. A disgruntled and overly intoxicated regular had caused a scene and taken a stumbling swing at Austin. The threat had been nonexistent, but I’d pounced on the guy and started pummeling him before Austin could throw him out of the bar. Four big pack members had needed to drag me off him.