There’s a fire beneath my skin, one the witch’s brew ignited and Memnon has only stoked, and at the sight of him adorned in only his tattoos, my desire spikes so sharply it’s almost painful.

I only have a moment to admire him in all his glorious nudity before he wraps an arm around my waist and drags the two of us onto my bed.

We’ve barely hit the mattress when Memnon pulls away and flips me so that my ass is in the air.

“On your hands and knees,” he commands.

I hate bossy men—hate them, I think as I do as he says.

You’re lying again, Memnon says, clearly overhearing thoughts that were not meant for him.

His hands go to my hips, gripping me fast. With a brutal thrust, he’s inside me once more.

I cry out, nearly coming from that contact alone.

He must sense how close I already am because he leans in and says, “Not yet, little witch. We have barely started having fun.”

He then proceeds to fuck me slowly, only giving me these shallow, teasing thrusts until my orgasm moves out of reach.

“You bastard,” I murmur.

The devil laughs at my back. “You have no idea.”

Once he’s sure I won’t immediately climax, he drapes his chest over my back and wraps a hand around my neck, his pace picking up just a little. “I’m going to take care of you, est amage,” he vows, “until every last need of yours is met. But in return, you’re going to listen to me. If you’re a good little witch, I’ll reward you for it.”

I feel the heavy brush of his magic against my clit, dragging me rapidly toward an orgasm. But just as quickly as the magic comes, it’s gone.

“And if you’re a bad little witch, I’ll give this pretty neck of yours a squeeze.”

Lightly, he constricts my breathing, and for reasons I don’t fully understand, that too brings me closer to orgasm.

“Memnon,” I moan.

He squeezes my neck again. “Naughty witch. You’re going to call me husband or soul mate. Anything else gets punished.”

I’m the one with the power over him. I can stop this at any moment, yet I don’t stop it. I don’t even give it more than a passing thought.

The sorcerer’s hold loosens on my neck, but his thrusts slow again. Why is he slowing?

“Harder,” I insist.

He begins to pick up speed. “If you want more, then address me properly.”

I whimper, my pussy throbbing.

“Don’t be cruel—” Don’t say it, Selene. Don’t say it. Don’t— “Husband.”

There’s a rush of magic against my clit, and I nearly collapse against the sensation. Only Memnon’s bracing hand on my neck keeps me in place.

“Do you like that?” he says. “Tell me that your husband understands your needs like no other, and I will give this to you until you come.”

“That’s so fucking manipulative,” I say, even as he hammers into me.

He squeezes my neck, presumably for disagreeing with him. Maybe for cursing.

I gasp reflexively, my pussy tightening around him.

“If you don’t like it, you can always come the good old-fashioned way,” he says.

I bow my head, wanting to sob because I’m so fucking turned on, and he’s so goddess-damned evil.

“You understand my needs like no other.” I gasp out the sentiment. It doesn’t sound like a lie because Memnon does, indeed, seem to know every trick of my body.

He leans in near my ear. “Who understands your needs?” he presses softly.

This monster.

I turn my head to meet his gaze, our faces inches apart.

“You, my husband,” I spit out.

He holds my gaze for a second longer before he remembers himself.

“Good woman,” he praises me, his lips curving into a smile. And then his magic is scouring my clit and sliding up my stomach and over my breasts, teasing my nipples as well.

My arms buckle, and Memnon releases my throat so that my upper body can collapse onto the mattress.

The sorcerer brushes my hair off the nape of my neck and presses a kiss there. Between that and the relentless rub of his magic, I shatter, arching back against him as I come and come and come.

His hips slam into me, pumping harder and faster, trying to give me everything I crave all at once.

“Fuck,” I hear him curse under his own breath, even as I feel his cock throb inside me. Then, with a roar, he comes, his own climax lengthening my own.

I press my ass against Memnon even as I place my forehead on my hands. My orgasm hasn’t even ended, but the pulsing ache from the cursed witch’s brew is back again.

I make a frustrated sound, wanting to weep. My body is tired, but it doesn’t seem to matter; it’s demanding release again.

“Memnon, I think…” I think I need more.

The sorcerer smooths a hand down my sweaty spine. “I know, est amage. I can feel it through our bond. As long as you need me, I will take care of you.”

And he does. Many, many times over.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER 19

I know I’ve done a bad thing before I even open my eyes.

A very, very bad thing named Memnon.

The room smells like sex, and my body is sore everywhere. My wicked soul mate lies asleep in my bed, holding me like I’m his own personal teddy bear. His leg is draped over mine, and his arm is wrapped around my chest, like in sleep he fears I might escape him.

If I could scream at drunk Selene, I would. My pussy feels swollen and bruised, and my body is sticky with sweat and come. I pinch my eyes shut, willing it all away. Especially the pretty things he said between bouts of sex. Those linger with me even now.

The man deserves my ire, not my interest.

I turn over in his arms so I can look at him. Memnon makes a noise low in his chest and pulls me tighter against him.

“Again?” he murmurs, his eyes still closed and his voice thick with sleep.

I want the earth to swallow me up. “No,” I say hoarsely, a blush creeping up my neck.

“Thank the gods.” He sounds legitimately relieved, which only makes me flush deeper. “Much as I want to fuck that pretty little pussy of yours, I think you broke my dick last ni⁠—”

I cover his mouth before he can finish the sentence.

Memnon’s eyes blink sleepily open, and I can feel his lazy, languid grin beneath my hand.

He reaches out and strokes my cheek. Aww, is my mate embarrassed?

“Last night never happened,” I say. Just sex. It was just some casual, highly erotic sex. That’s all.

Oh, it definitely happened. That memory is up there with finding you and marrying you the first time around.

I close my eyes and inwardly wince. I see he’s taking last night in the complete other direction.

He runs his knuckles over my bare flesh. “Are you sore?” he asks, his brow furrowing.

I open my eyes and shake my head, even as I feel the throb from between my thighs. “I’m fine.”

Memnon frowns, studying my features. “Fine,” he echoes, testing the word out. I think the sorcerer is coming face-to-face with this expression for the first time. “I don’t believe you. We fucked a lot—I wasn’t gentle.”

I remember. I asked him not to be.

I groan and bury my face against his chest. The things I said, the things we did…

Definitely hexing whoever made that batch of witch’s brew.

Memnon laughs softly, rubbing my back and pressing me in close against him. It’s strange that these types of touches are new yet also old and familiar.

“My little witch is embarrassed,” Memnon says, sounding both surprised and delighted by it. He kisses the top of my head, the action oddly endearing. “I also don’t believe you’re fine.”

As he speaks, I feel warmth spread out beneath his palm and along my skin. It soaks into my flesh, and my various aches and pains vanish.

I lift my head and give him a grateful look. Now is when I push him away. Only…I don’t want to. And I know this is how all bad ideas begin when it comes to Memnon—giving the guy a chance—but right now, as I stare at the sorcerer’s scarred, inked torso, the past feels like it’s rising up from the depths.