The Seven Year Witch: That Old Black Magic, Book 2 by Jodi Redford Page A

waiting for. Savoring those luscious nipples wasn’t one of them.
    Inching forward, he blew a stream of air across her breasts. Clarissa murmured in her sleep before arching her back like a saucy kitten. It was all the invitation he needed. Swirling his tongue over her nipple, he sucked the distended nub into his mouth. Her eyelashes fluttered before she blinked at him. “What are you doing?”
    He released her nipple and worked his way toward its mate. “Havin’ my breakfast.”
    She glanced toward the window. “What time is it?”
    Not trusting the flash of worry that clouded her expression, he swung his leg over hers, keeping her pinned in place. “It’s time for you to stop frettin’ and let me enjoy the next course.”
    “I’m not fret—” Her lips pinched together when he gave her a stern look. “I’m supposed to join my father for breakfast.” Her cheeks took on a pretty pink flush. “The real kind, I mean.”
    He traversed the slope of her breast and licked her nipple. “This is the real kind too. A Rissa meal. My favorite.” She snorted, and he grinned before tracing her areola with his tongue. “You told me the nursing home never keeps on schedule. Which means it’ll be at least another hour before your pops gets his tray delivered. I promise you’ll get there with time to spare.”
    “Is that your way of telling me you’re going to rush through your breakfast?” Her eyebrows arched. “Not exactly much incentive for me agreeing to your plan.”
    “Nah, just means I have to work extra hard at givin’ ya a dozen orgasms in thirty minutes.”
    “Only a dozen? Slacker.”
    Chuckling, he scooted backward, his mouth blazing a trail down her stomach. He dipped his tongue inside her bellybutton briefly, before continuing his trek south. Coaxing her thighs wider to accommodate his shoulders, he settled in place and inspected his treasure trove. A thin landing strip of fiery red curls covered her mound. He already knew from prior exploration how downy soft they were. Actually, she was soft everywhere. And silky. Recalling where she was silkiest, he lowered his focus. She was already wet, dripping honey for him. His mouth instantly pooled with saliva.
    “You know, I get a less thorough examination from my gynecologist.”
    Ignoring Clarissa’s breathless, albeit dry tone, he slid his thumb through her wetness. Holding her gaze, he sucked his finger clean.
    Her breath stuttered. “Dr. Freeman doesn’t do that, however.”
    “Good. ’Cause I’d rip his fuckin’ balls off.” Ducking, he licked up and down her slit until she was undulating against his mouth and panting. Working his way north, he found her clit swollen and slick. He swirled his tongue across the sensitive nubbin, and she cried out, her hips arching. Holding her steady, he sucked on her throbbing flesh with soft, rhythmic pulses. Her fingers sifted through his hair as she gasped his name, over and over. A fierce tremor ripped through him. Groaning, he raised his head and retraced his previous path with his lips until he reached her mouth. He glided his tongue over hers, sharing her taste. Some women hated that, but Clarissa only caressed his chest and allowed him to deepen the kiss. Her thighs parted, her wetness bathing his cock. Another scalding frisson of pleasure washed over him. He slid inside her pussy and indulged in the three most blissful strokes of his life before realizing he hadn’t donned a condom.
    Sonofabitch. Unprotected sex sure as shit wasn’t the way to go about earning her trust.
    Pulling from the snug heaven of Clarissa’s pussy proved to be one of the toughest things he’d ever done. Particularly since her inner walls hugged him tight, almost as if they were reluctant to release his cock.
    Balancing himself on one arm, he tugged at the drawer pull on the nightstand and snatched a condom. Clarissa blinked before staring in the direction of his cock. He quickly sheathed himself. “Sorry. I swear to you,