Wolf Moon Rising (Beaux Rêve Coven 3)

t.”

She did so, her eyes brimming, a tiny smile curving her lips. “Show me.”

No more teasing. No more pulling away from the edge. He flexed his hips and rubbed between her folds, ensuring he pressed against her clit. Then in short thrusts, he stroked, forward and back, building friction, giving her pressure where she needed it. “Fly, baby. Just go with it.”

Gripping his shoulders, she asked, “Will you be with me?”

He nodded and began to shake. Then he quickened his motions.

Her hands pinched his shoulders, and her body arched. And then her hips bumped upward, and she let loose a low moan as he ground faster and harder, never closing his eyes because he wanted to see. Wanted to know the moment she reached the pinnacle.

She sucked her lower lip between her teeth, and her face screwed into such a look of ecstasy, he felt his balls release. “Fuck, now,” he bit out. “Come now!” He pushed another hand beneath her and cupped her closer as he humped, harder now, and losing rhythm because come spurted hot against her belly.

Her eyes rounded, and she dragged her nails on his skin, her head leaning back as she arched hard and screamed.

Gradually, his motions slowed. He nuzzled into the corner of her shoulder, relieved he’d lasted long enough to give her what she’d needed. He cradled her close, reveling in her gentle moans as her body relaxed.

When he could breathe again, he lifted his head.

With her hot palms, she bracketed his face and kissed him. “Thank you.”

He gave a short bark of laughter. “My pleasure, little witch.”

She sighed sleepily. “I think…I need to rest a bit.”

So did he. He slipped to one side and turned her so he could spoon against her back. Her head rested on his bicep, and his hand lay on her breast as naturally as if they’d done this dozens of times. As his heart beats began to slow, he gave silent thanks. Never had he thought he’d be able to say these words: “I love you, Aoife.”

“And I love you. Will this be enough for you?”

Yes. This was enough. More than he’d hoped. He chuckled. “Sweetheart, I have many things to teach you.”

“More ways…?”

“Infinite ways.”

Chapter Five

‡

Much later that morning, Aoife cut flowers to make an arrangement for Father Guidry’s altar. Pink roses for gratitude for being a caring father to the community, red asters for his patience with their differences, orange petunias to provide him calm, and green chrysanthemums to celebrate their friendship.

In their five years living in Bonne Nuit, Father Guidry had never passed judgment on the sisters, and he’d helped them assimilate into the fabric of the town. His example of acceptance, despite the way they looked and dressed, and the fact they kept mostly to themselves, never once attending his mass, had gone a long way toward helping the town’s folk accept them.

In return, the witches did what they could to help him.

Bryn gave him advice and plantings for his garden. Miren brought him shrimp from her boats. Radha created a lovely length of fabric for his altar. Darcy made him coffee mugs. Aoife’s gifts were always flowers.

All the witches wove spells into their gifts to help him stay healthy and happy.

Working at a long table inside the green house, she wrapped the flower stems with green florist’s tape and hid spindly witch hazel flowers beneath the wrapping—just to make her smile, because she’d be the only one to know they were there. Lastly, she cut a couple of marigold blooms and put them in the pocket of her long, lavender-colored skirt.

When she stepped out of the green house, she waved at the laborers who were busy clearing out the last of the dead or dying vegetation from the flower beds outside. She continued on her way, smiling when she heard footsteps fall in behind her.

“Going to see the good father?” Logan asked, moving up beside her.

Logan was the third man assigned to guard her. With Hamdir away and Sigurd doing whatever had pulled him from her bed that morning, she felt a little lighter today with only a hawk to watch over her. She held up the flowers. “What gave me away?”

Everyone knew Fridays were her delivery day to the church.