His Wicked Witch Read online

  “Fuck, I want you.” My voice is rough and I wish nothing more than for the damn car to get here so I can lay her out on my bed.

  My phone rings from my jacket pocket, but I ignore it. Nothing is going to take me from her lips now. Whoever it is, they can leave a message. But the sound of an automatic window rolling down, followed by a sharp cough, pulls me away.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I see a guy looking at us from his car. “Jude?” he asks.

  Bugger. “That’s me. Sorry, mate.”

  I back up, threading my fingers with Tillie’s and tugging her along with me. Opening the door, I let her inside first and follow after. I’m painfully hard and wish with everything in me the drive wasn’t the half hour I know it will be.

  Tillie giggles and squeezes my hand.

  He turns up the music and pulls into traffic, while I run my fingers up the inside of Tillie’s thigh.

  “I don’t understand how you’re single, but I’m so fucking thankful.” She sighs and wiggles her hips. “Your lips taste like heaven,” I murmur before closing the distance between our mouths.

  She spreads her thighs and I slide my hand farther up her skirt. The inky black sky protects us from being seen, but the passing glow of the streetlights reminds me we’re not alone and I can’t take this any farther.

  I deepen our kiss and have to force myself to keep from touching between her legs. I can wait. She takes my hand and moves her hips as she tries to get me to do exactly what I want.

  “No, no. Wait until we get home. I promise your patience will be rewarded.”

  She whimpers, but lets go of my hand.

  “Good girl.”

  I tease her with slow kisses for nearly the entire ride, and by the time we pull up in front of the house I’ve rented for my time here, she’s a ball of need, trembling and desperate. I remove my hand from her skirt and open the door, bringing her with me as quickly as possible.

  “I thought you said you had a room.”

  I glance at the house and grin. “I do. Three actually. I’m renting this house.”

  She swallows and frowns. “I didn’t realize it was close to the campus.”

  I laugh. “You have a problem with college kids?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  “Good. Besides, there are no kids here. Now, let’s get inside so I can show you how you should be worshipped.”

  Row, Row, Row Your Boat

  My lips are already swollen from Jude’s kisses and I think I might die if I don’t get an orgasm soon. The whole drive here was a constant tease and now, I’m ready for the main event. He lets us inside and then the man is on me, lips, tongue, hands. He’s everywhere, as wound up as I am.

  “I’m only going to ask you once,” he whispers in the darkened hallway. “Are you sure you’re ready to do this tonight? We can take it slower. I’m here for another month.”

  My heart lurches. This is a one-time thing. I honestly wish I didn’t even know where his house was. “I want this.”

  He groans, “Thank fuck.”

  Then his fingers are working the zipper of my skirt and the fabric falls to the floor. My lacy panties are soaked with my arousal. It’s almost embarrassing, but I want him so badly I really don’t care. I pull my sweater over my head, thankful I wore my matching lace bra.

  “You’re absolute perfection.”

  Normally I’d laugh at a line like that. Guys will say anything to get into a woman’s bed…or get her in his as the case may be. But there’s such honesty and reverence in his tone, I can’t do anything but believe him. “And you are wearing way too many clothes. How did I get to be the nearly naked one?”

  “Yours are just easier to take off.” He slides his jacket off his shoulders and grabs the hem of his shirt. I lick my lips, desperate to see the muscles I felt when we were making out at the bar. “Oxford Rowing Club?” I ask, taking note of the logo on his T-shirt.

  He nods and pulls the shirt over his head revealing taut ridges of muscles along his chest and abs. Oh, he’s even more muscular than I thought. I run my fingers over the ladder of his six-pack and bite my lower lip.

  “Thank you, Oxford,” I whisper.

  A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest. “I haven’t been a rower in a few years. This is at least an hour at the gym every morning.”

  My fingers rest on his belt buckle. I don’t know why I’m hesitating, maybe it’s nerves getting the better of me, but I wonder for a moment if this man is more than a one-night-stand. Am I ruining something by rushing into this?

  Warm fingers cup my jaw, turning my face up to his. “I promise, Tillie, I’ll take care of you tonight.”

  When I look into those dark blue eyes, I feel safe, protected…wanted. I don’t feel like a girl easily thrown away, the one who doesn’t matter. Right now, I feel like I’m his everything.

  I make fast work of his belt and open his pants with ease. They fall to the floor and join the pile of our discarded clothes. My handsome Englishman slides off his shoes and I start to do the same, but he stops me with a hand on my shoulder.

  “No. Leave the shoes on.”

  There’s a growl in his voice that tells me he’s been thinking about this. “Where’s your room?”

  “Upstairs,” he says, layering kisses to my neck, my collarbone, my shoulder.

  He scoops me into his arms and carries me up the flight of stairs, lips blazing a trail across my skin. The sensation of his heated kisses and the roughness of his beard makes me shiver in anticipation for what’s to come. What will his mouth feel like on other parts of me?

  We get to the end of the hall and he kicks open the door, revealing a neat and tidy bedroom. “One night,” I tell him as he drapes me across the bed.

  “What?”

  “One night. That’s all this is. I need you to understand that because you feel like forever but I’m not ready for that.”

  He frowns and rubs at the back of his neck. “Are you sure that’s what you want? Because I think you feel like forever too, and I want to give this a real shot.”

  I shake my head. I have too many plans, too much baggage, and far too deep a heartbreak in my past. “No. I can’t afford to lose focus right now. Everything is riding on me sticking to my plan. You aren’t part of that, even if I want you to be.”

  A heavy sigh falls from him. “So it’s either have you now, or never?”

  “It has to be that way. I’m sorry, Jude. If we’d met six months from now, things might be different.”

  He nods and then falls to his knees next to the bed. “Then I’d better make sure this is one night you’ll never forget.”

  Gripping me behind the knees, he tugs until I’m sitting with my feet on either side of his body and my legs spread. His hands roam my thighs and up my hips until they grip my waist.

  “Your curves are delectable. So soft and smooth.” He reaches behind me and unhooks my bra, letting my breasts spill free. “I’m going to taste every inch of you.”

  I let out the barest whimper as he presses a light kiss to my lace clad pussy. “Jude,” I cry out.

  He slides my panties down over my hips and farther until they’re just a memory, cast aside on the floor somewhere. Then, without any warning he slides two fingers deep inside me. The invasion makes me moan and writhe and he has to hold my hips still with his free hand. I throw my head back and close my eyes, letting go of everything else in my mind and giving in to pure sensation. When he brings his mouth to my sensitive clit, I give a harsh moan and roll my pelvis forward, searching for more.

  “I’m close. Oh, God, I’m so close,” I whimper.

  “Come on, baby. Come for me,” he murmurs against my pussy.

  And, oh, do I ever. I come so hard stars float in my vision and my legs shake uncontrollably. “I need you inside me right the hell now, Jude. I can’t stand any more.”

  He leans back on his heels and smirks. His lips are coated in my arousal and it’s so freaking hot to see him like that. “As you wish,” he
whispers.

  Jude reaches for his nightstand and tugs open the drawer. I catch sight of the foil packet between his fingers and grin. Relief floods me at the sight. The last guy I was with hadn’t been so prepared and tried to convince me not to use protection. Jude is not that kind of man.

  He tears open the condom and frees his length as he slips out of his black boxer briefs. I try not to gasp at his size, but I’ve only had one other to compare with.

  “All right?” he asks. “Your eyes are big as saucers.”

  “I’m just…I’m not sure we’re going to fit together.”

  A boyish grin turns up his lips. “Oh, we will. I promise.”

  My thighs clench and arousal rushes through me as if I hadn’t just had an earth-shattering orgasm. Then he rolls on the condom and grips my knees. He spreads me wide and fits himself between my legs. His long fingers play across my belly and down lower until he touches my aching clit. I buck off the bed, over-sensitive and dying for him.

  “Stop teasing me, please.”

  A dark chuckle falls from him as he removes his fingers from my body and positions the head of his cock at my entrance. He leans over me and presses gentle kisses to my breasts and throat, working his way up to my lips. “Relax, Tillie.” His murmured order has me trembling with need.

  “I can’t.”

  Then he kisses me long and deep, as though he’s trying to devour me, and I give myself over to the sensation, to the connection I can’t deny. When he pushes inside, I’m lost to the feel of his thick length filling me, but it’s not painful. It’s perfect. And as we move together, there’s so much more than one night in his eyes. If I’m honest, I can see forever with a man like him and it scares me.

  Because forever changes everything.

  Tattoos and Trials

  Tillie is asleep in my bed, her long hair a wavy mess across the pillow. I run my finger down her back, loving the velvet softness of her skin. She’s got a tattoo across her ribs. A line of script that says not all those who wander… and I can’t help but smile.

  I don’t know how I’m going to leave her when the time comes for me to head back home. I want more of her. I need to know her, to have her in my life. Perhaps I could extend my stay, or see if I can make this a permanent change. I’m not sure I’ll be able to get her out of my mind when I go.

  “Who are you, Tillie?” I whisper.

  A sweet sigh falls from her and she rolls over to face me. Her lips are turned up in a soft smile and she blinks sleepy eyes at me. “What are you doing?”

  “Admiring the beauty in my bed.” I can’t deny the curious swell of emotion in my chest. She stirs something inside me. Something I thought long lost. “I don’t think my pillow has ever looked so enticing.”

  “What do you do?” she asks, resting her chin in her palm as she stares at me.

  “I’m a writer.”

  Her grin makes me smile in turn. “So, you’re telling me I ran into a gorgeous British writer in a whiskey bar? That’s like…well, that’s kind of my fantasy… except when I fantasize about that I’m on a lost weekend in London and he sweeps me off my feet. Are you a billionaire too? A secret duke?”

  I laugh. “No, sorry to disappoint. Not a billionaire.”

  “You didn’t deny your dukedom.” The way her eyes sparkle as she teases me has me laughing.

  “No dukedom. I’m afraid you’re stuck with the British writer.”

  “That’s okay. I have a thing for the artistic type. What do you write?”

  “Mostly non-fiction. But my newest book is a fictional retelling of the mass hysteria in Salem in 1692.”

  “Ah, the witch trials.”

  I nod. “And you? What occupies your time, Tillie?”

  “Molecular biology.”

  I cock an eyebrow. “Really? Do you work at the University?”

  “I spend a lot of time there.”

  “And why molecular biology? Have you always had an interest?”

  “Yes. Since I was a teenager, that’s been my goal. I wanted to be a molecular biologist, so I did it.”

  “You’re fascinating.”

  “You’re charming.”

  I run my finger along the tattoo on her ribs. “And this?”

  Her gaze drops from mine. “My twin sister. She loved Tolkien and when we were growing up, our dad read us The Hobbit and The Lord of The Rings. She was obsessed.”

  “Was?”

  She nods. “Lucy got leukemia when we were twelve. She was fourteen when we lost her.”

  My chest tightens at the thought of her hurting so badly. “I’m so sorry.”

  With a dismissive shrug, she shakes her head and wipes at her eyes. “I couldn’t help her. Identical twins can’t donate bone marrow because the match is too close.” She shakes her head. “For the first time, being so close to her was a bad thing.”

  I press a soft kiss to her forehead, my heart breaking for her. “So that’s why you wanted to go into molecular biology? Cancer research?”

  “Exactly. I couldn’t save her, but maybe I can help others.” A heavy sigh falls from her. “I haven’t talked about that in a long time.”

  “I’m glad you told me.”

  “She was my best friend.” She glides her fingers over the line of script. “And now I’ll always have her with me. This is her handwriting. She would practice and practice until it looked perfect.”

  I trace the ink and she shivers under my touch. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  We go silent for a while, hands exploring each other’s curves and ridges. It’s as if we’re learning the map of one another’s body. I know I’ll never forget her. She’s been burned in my memory after one night.

  When my hand runs over the swell of her breast and I trace a feather-light circle around her nipple, she lets out a light giggle and slides her fingers up my arm until she cups the back of my neck. “Come here.”

  We make love until the sky begins to lighten into the gray of predawn and I finally fall asleep with her in my arms, the sweet scent of her hair easing any tension inside me. I have her here now, and I’m not going to let go until I have no other option.

  The bed is cold when I wake. I reach for Tillie, but I know what I’m going to find. I can feel it before I even open my eyes. She’s gone. I hold out hope that I’ll find her though, because I’m a fool, because I can’t accept our connection was one-sided after such an intense night together. But the evidence is there, harsh and clear. She ran. Not even a note left behind.

  “Bloody hell,” I mutter, raking a hand through my hair and fighting the wave of crushing disappointment at her absence.

  I can still smell her on my skin. Part of me wants to run outside and see if I catch her leaving. I can imagine her long hair blowing in the breeze as she walks away. What would I do? Go after her, make her come back, fix her coffee and breakfast served with a side of forever? If she wanted me she’d have at least given me her number. Instead she snuck out and did the walk of shame. It’s likely I’ll never see this woman again, and that makes my chest ache.

  My phone rings and I dash across the room, and dig through my pockets in a desperate attempt to reach the device before the call rolls to voicemail.

  “Tillie?” I bark into the phone. Immediately I realize how stupid that is. She doesn’t have my phone number, just as I don’t have hers.

  “Nope. Oh, my God, McGinnis, did you get some action last night?” Brett Faulkner, my American literary agent laughs over the line.

  “That’s not your business, you twat.”

  “Oh, come on. Don’t go all proper British on me. You answer the phone practically panting some chick’s name, I’m gonna think you got some action. Or are at least working on it.”

  “Why are you calling, Brett?” The frustration in my voice is undeniable, but I don’t want to be teased about Tillie. I want to fucking find her.

  “You’re supposed to be on a run with me, remember? I was calling to get your
lazy ass out of bed.”

  Fighting a sigh, I glance at the clock and shake my head. The last thing I want is to go on a run with him, but I’m not going to get anywhere sitting around and pining after a woman who didn’t think enough of me to stay. “I’ll be there in five.”

  “Fuck yes, you will. We need to talk book tour after you’re done with your Indiana Jones impression.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m not playing at being Indiana Jones.”

  “Sure, you tell yourself that. I don’t blame you one bit. Indy got all the pussy he could handle.”

  Shaking my head, I hang up the phone and head for my closet. The idea of having as many women as I want makes me shudder. There’s only one woman on my mind, and I’m going to find her before my time here is up.

  Walk of Shame

  “Walk of shame this morning?” Stacy’s voice hits me like a bucket of ice water as I head downstairs for a cup of coffee after my shower. I cringe. I’d thought I was quiet and had managed to stay off the radar. But Stacy sees everything. She’s like…a witch or something.

  “I might’ve met a hot British man.” My cheeks burn but at the same time a curious pang of longing hits me.

  “British? Where did you find him? I want one.”

  I laugh, but on the inside I bristle. She can’t have him. “Kit and I went to a whiskey bar in the city last night.”

  She cocks an eyebrow. “Is that why you missed the meeting?”

  Damn. “We had a meeting?” I try for surprised, but I’m a terrible liar.

  “We did. I called you, but you sent me to voicemail.” She grabs a tablet from the table and swipes the screen, brow furrowed as she searches for something. “It’s fine. I emailed you the minutes. We had some last minute changes to the charity haunted house.”

  “Oh?”

  “You’re on the witch room. We thought you could read fortunes and give people love spells.”

  “What?” My eyes widen. “I…I was supposed to be taking tickets. I don’t know anything about—”