Chapters (30)
- About the Book
- American Witch
- Copyright Page
- Table of Contents
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Thank you!
- Look for these titles from Thea Harrison
When he positioned his cock at her entrance and pushed in, she rose to meet him, and the empty ache at her core turned to a sharp spike of pleasure. As he took her, she took him. He conquered her senses, and she gave over control, allowing herself to go boneless and submissive as he spun her around, wrapped an arm around her throat, and fucked her from behind.
She had never felt this way before, so out of her mind with need. The rhythm he built made her crazy, crazy—she had to do something to get at him the way he was getting at her. She reached back for any part of him she could touch, raking her nails along his shoulders, sinking her teeth in feral response into the bunched muscle of his forearm. He felt massive inside her, hardened everywhere, his body clenched on hers in an unbreakable hold.
Then he reached down to touch her between her legs, and she exploded with such force she saw white stars against her closed eyelids. She cried out sharply, bucking underneath him, while he held suspended over her, in her, rubbing, rubbing… Jesus, she thought she would never stop climaxing…
Even as the waves still rippled through her body, he stiffened and swore again, his mouth pressed to the soft skin at the nape of her neck. She felt his thick, hard length pulse inside, and oh my God, she had never climaxed with anyone before. She grabbed his hand and pressed his fingers against her.
He understood immediately and rubbed her harder as his raw breathing sawed in her ear. The second wave hit, clear and piercing. She twisted back against him, straining for that last tantalizing peak, and he buried his face in her hair as he spilled the last of his own pleasure.
Afterward came the mental and physical collapse. She couldn’t talk even if she wanted to. Apparently he felt the same. As he pulled her back around to take her in his arms, the heavy muscles of his biceps trembled. She gave in to simple, animal need and burrowed against his larger, heavier frame, her head resting on his shoulder, one leg hiked up to drape over his hips. He tangled his fingers in her hair, and she plunged asleep.
Only to wake again sometime later as he pushed her onto her back and entered her. She made a sound, a cross between surprise and incoherent delight, and wrapped arms and legs around him, cradling him with her whole body while he fucked her.
He brought her to climax that time too, not quite as sharp and high as the first ones, but a fuller, deeper sensation that rewrote the pathways of her circuitry as she locked everything on him and realized just how much he could give her. How deeper, higher, further they could go.