Page 151 of Flirty Fall Fling

I blow it out in one quick breath. Smoke drifts upward and curls.

The study is so quiet that my ears ring.

Jamie hasn’t moved an inch, but his finger is rubbing the hematite. “You warded my name too.”

“Yes. I’m sorry. I should’ve as⁠—”

“Thank you,” he says softly, putting a finger over my lips. “I always consent to your magic.”

“Now, if they talk, we benefit.”

“I’d like to formally request somebody to write another article.” He clears his throat. “An exposé with tons of pictures.”

I laugh harder than I should. “Oh, stop.”

He comes around the desk and stands in front of me. “Feel better?”

I nod, and he slides his lips across mine. I reach up, remove the mustache, and capture his lips again. His palm moves up my body, and suddenly, I stop caring about anything other than this. I lie back on the desk, papers falling on the floor. The lamp wobbles but survives. His strong hands go under my ass, and my legs instinctively wrap around him.

“I need this,” I say against his mouth.

“Fuck, I do too.” He kisses down my throat. “Someone must be talking shit about us.”

“Let them,” I mutter as he pulls my sweater over my head. It lands on the floor next to the papers.

He takes his time removing my jeans in the slowest possible way. It’s cruel—a favor I plan to return. His hot mouth is on my collarbone as one of his hands sits right under my ass. He’s pressed between my legs, his bulge pressing into me.

Then he falls to his knees on the rug.

That’s when every thought in my mind leaves my body. Both my legs are looped over his shoulders as he devours me. My breath hitches as he teases my clit, flicking, then licking me from top to bottom. I gasp, my back arching as I press into him. The scruff on his chin feels so damn good that I can barely handle it. Two of his fingers slide into me and curl, and the sound I make is not of this world.

He’s relentless about it, hungry in a way that makes me want to give him everything that I am.

Everything in me pulls tight and then releases.

I hear myself groan, and it feels like an out-of-body experience. My back comes up off the desk. His arm is the only thing keeping me upright. He works me through every second of it and doesn’t let go until I’m utterly wrecked.

When he stands, his mouth is wet, and his eyes are still hungry. With one motion, he removes his belt.

“I fucking love it when you look at me like that,” he says.

I reach for his hoodie, removing it from his body.

“I don’t think you’re the one bewitched,” I confess as he pushes into me with one long stroke.

He moves my hands up above my head.

“I dunno. You’re the only one who’s lasted past thirty days,” he says.

I smile, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I didn’t think you’d noticed.”

“Of course I did.”

Our tongues slide together. He lifts my thigh, going deeper, hitting a spot that makes my eyes roll to the back of my fucking head. He slams inside of me harder, the oak desk sliding an inch along the floor. It groans out in protest, and we both laugh.

I want more of him. I need more. I don’t have to say anything for him to know.

If he keeps going, if he keeps slamming against my G-spot …