Trickery Read Online Free

mouth water and her body clench and all thoughts seize. And then he did it again. And again until she was crazed with sensation, panting and growling and clutching at him, digging her fingernails into the hard flesh of his ass to urge him to continue. Forever, perhaps.
    His rhythm increased. He lifted her and began to sluice in and out of her at an astonishing rate. Each thrust, each lunge, sent her into paroxysms of pleasure that made her body weep, her soul sing. She knew this was the fuck of her life, she just wasn’t sure if it was only magic—or if it was real. But at the moment, she hardly cared.
    The trails of her tiny spells swirled around him, around her, but there was something more, something greater, tugging at the two of them.
    Then she lost her grasp on the thought, on all thought, because he tipped his hips and began fucking her from the side, from an agonizing new angle that had his long cock jabbing at a bundle of nerves deep inside her, prodding and poking at her, caressing and stroking her sanity.
    She felt it coming, the orgasm stalking her. It rose and blossomed, tinged with the trails of her rose-flavored magic. It tangled with the other thing, the other cloud, the other essence, one that tasted blue and teased at the edge of her awareness.
    The magic coalesced, tightened, shifted inward, clutching at her, dragging at her, pulling her deeper and deeper into a thick miasma of delirium, of bliss and pleasure and belonging.
    And he was there too. Austin.
    She stared at him with her internal eye, and he stared back.
    Something unfamiliar nudged at her. It wasn’t the looming power of the coming orgasm that captured her attention. It was the other power, the other pull. And then, in a gushing tug like the undertow before a massive tsunami, everything—her soul, her mind, her breath, her power—was sucked from her body until she was nothing but an empty shell.
    But before she could cry out, before she could even register the pain, everything washed back in. Her climax broke, like that tsunami, raining down on her and taking her and sweeping her away. Swamping her.
    And in the raging tide, in the flood of emotions and thoughts and power and enchantment rushing back into her, there was a piece of him.

Chapter Four
     
    Damien DeWinter leaned back against the headboard and gazed down at his conquest as she lay, in a tangle of heaving, boneless limbs, on his bed. Well hell. She hadn’t been what he’d expected. He traced a finger along her long, creamy thigh. She shuddered, her skin pebbled at his touch. So responsive.
    She’d been a delightful fuck and so easy to snare.
    He chuckled to himself.
    Foolish girl. Had she thought to entrap him ?
    Apparently they didn’t bother to teach novices how to avoid beguiling scoundrels anymore.
    Lucky him.
    She was exquisite, laid out like a feast on his bed—prepared, as it had been, for her seduction. She’d been the sweetest. Her body had been tight. Ready for him. And her orgasm—hell, it had swamped him too.
    He hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t prepared for that kind of…mingling.
    It was the kind of mingling the old farts of the Brethren muttered about when their eyes glazed over and they nattered on about their youth, about the old days when it was still possible to find a True Mate. Nobody even talked about True Mates anymore. They all took what they could get when it came to the sacred rite of mating. And, if they were lucky, they could get a natural wood for their partner.
    It was embarrassing when a warlock had to resort to a potion to cure his…disinterest. Especially in the Circle. With everyone watching, on bated breath, hoping for conception.
    He’d needed nothing of the kind with Willow. That was why he’d pursued her. Hell, he’d wanted to fuck her the first time he saw her in the scrying glass. Midea’s mask hadn’t fooled him. What a joke that had been.
    He’d seen Willow and wanted her. He’d found her, followed her and slowly, but