How to Seduce a Gargoyle in 10 Days

by Saranna Dewylde

  But she knew what she’d like to have in her.

  Ginger didn’t bother to censor her thoughts or try to be proper or any of that other crap. She was done with that.

  He laughed, the sound rumbling almost like thunder. “No, Ginger. I’m very much a wild thing. But so are you, aren’t you? It’s buried deep down, sliding beneath your skin like some dirty secret.”

  His words cranked her desire higher. “Yes,” she confessed, the words falling off of her tongue, forbidden.

  Instead of tasting like bile and ash, as they would have before, they were sweet.

  “Just a little more, Ginger, and we’ll see the wild thing beneath. The creature you were meant to be.”

  She had a feeling that when she did become that wild thing, that’s when he’d touch her, claim her. A part of her just knew that he was waiting for her to let go and blossom.

  Her mother wouldn’t have seen this as blossoming, but Ginger didn’t care what she thought about it.

  DAY SIX

  Aradia sent flowers and an invitation to come to tea on the tenth day.

  Ginger sent a reply through her magick mail and agreed.

  When Slade found her with the flowers, he arched a brow. “Lady Shadowins thinks she’s funny.”

  “Why?” Ginger looked up from the strange, yet enticing orange blooms. “Are they going to grow teeth and bite me or something?”

  “No, but I might.”

  “Oh really?” She couldn’t help the grin on her face.

  “Those are what warlocks would call an aphrodisiac. They drive a gargoyle’s lust very high. Makes our skin as sensitive as warlock skin.”

  His loincloth did nothing to hide the effect the flowers had on him. At first, the idea intrigued her—especially the way he watched her. Like he was going to take her right there on the foyer table.

  And she’d have loved that, no doubt.

  But she still wanted him to want her for herself. Not because Aradia told him to, not because she sent some flowers to turn him into a sex-crazed animal. But just because he found her pleasing.

  “I’ll throw them out.” She grabbed the vase and headed toward the kitchen.

  “I’m not a beast, Ginger. I won’t do anything to you that you haven’t asked me for. Flowers or no. If you find them lovely, keep them.”

  It was almost as if he could read her thoughts—she’d considered that frequently in the last few days, how attuned he was to her.

  “I do find them lovely.” She bit her lip. Old Ginger wouldn’t have dared say what was on her mind, but she was tired of Old Ginger and ready for New Ginger to take the reins. “But I don’t want you to be uncomfortable just because I might enjoy looking at their blooms.” She took a deep breath. “And I don’t want you to touch me unless it’s what you want, too. Contract or no.”

  “You’ve had your culpability taken from you for most of your life. From the constraints silly witch society has put on you, to the place you think you need to occupy. Take ownership of what you want.”

  She swallowed hard. Again, no artful seduction here, no tricks. Just her honesty and vulnerability. “What if I want you?”

  Of all the things she expected him to do, the lazy, sexy smile that curved his lips wasn’t it. She thought he’d be surprised, or bothered, or he’d grab her and pull her hair and give her a good ravishing.

  Instead, he said, “Then take ownership of me. Tell me my task. How may I serve you?”

  “I don’t want to be served.”

  “No?”

  Suddenly he was much closer to her, there wasn’t enough air in the space for her to breathe. She didn’t know lust could suffocate her. He leaned closer to her, so close his heat burned her.

  “You don’t think you could find some use for this hard body?” Slade dragged his cheeks against hers. “Or for this velvet tongue?”

  The texture of his tongue as he touched it to her throat was indeed velvet… uncut, pile velvet. Soft and rough at the same time. She imagined just exactly what it would feel like lapping between her thighs.

  She gasped.

  “Yeah, I’m sure you can.” His clawed fingers tangled in the length of her hair, and he drew her even closer against him, his erection thick and hot between them. “You’ve smelled like a witch in heat for days, and it’s kept me just like this.” Slade ground his hips into her.

  “What does it smell like?” she asked. “Is it… good?”

  “So good.” He growled in her ear and her witchy bits seemed to flutter in time with his voice.

  Which was completely stupid. Her vagina wasn’t some carnal, winged insect. She giggled, unable to ban the imagery from her mind.

  “So tell me, Ginger. Have you thought about how hard and sharp I am? Tell me.”

  As her face flamed and her body throbbed for his touch, she no longer had the desire to giggle.

  “I have. I thought about all of those things while I touched myself.”

  His grip on her arms tightened, his claws almost painful. But she liked it because it meant she had an effect on him. Meant that all of her fears from that night had no foundation in the real.

  “So why did you stop?”

  “How did you know I stopped?” Her voice was still breathy and taut with her desire and his cock still pushed against her belly. She clenched her thighs tight thinking what it was going to be like to finally have him inside of her.

  “Because you stopped making those delicious little sounds. But I didn’t stop, Ginger.”

  Her throat constricted and she dug her nails into his skin, the flower’s nearness causing small scratches to appear on this shoulders. “You didn’t stop what?”

  “Doing the same thing you were. Stroking myself, imagining what it would be like to bury my stone in your softness, if I could make you make those same sounds. And the give of this tender flesh—” he licked her neck “—under my teeth while I mark you.”

  She was boneless and weak with need and Ginger tilted her head back to expose her throat to him.

  “I thought about the same, but we were flying.”

  “Ah, woman. I’d have thought when I dropped you because you bit me, you wouldn’t want to try mating while flying.”

  “You caught me. You’re not a beast, like you said. But part of me wants you to be.”

  He growled against her throat.

  “I don’t want to take ownership of you alone. I want us to take ownership of each other.”

  “Are you sure? The bite cannot be undone. You can never be with another warlock.”

  “There are no warlocks like you.”

  He tilted her face slowly, gently so she’d look at him and for the first time, Ginger wasn’t afraid of who she really was or what she wanted.

  “This is the woman I was waiting for. I saw her at the bridal tea, and I wanted her.”

  “Take her.” She brushed her lips against his, and Ginger was sure she’d died and this was heaven. Nothing could ever be so decadent, so delicious, but so incredibly right at the same time.

  The thrill she got when their flesh touched was something that only happened with the forbidden, but he wasn’t forbidden to her at all. She could have exactly what she wanted.

  Maybe that idea in itself was so taboo…

  His claws made quick work of her shirt. She found herself bare under his stare. Whereas once she might’ve hidden herself, he’d already see her naked when she’d had the bathing suit malfunction. He’d seen it, and he still wanted it.

  He bent her back over his forearm, kissing her neck, her breasts. His hair draped across her flesh in a silky curtain, and it felt every bit as lush as she’d imagined.

  His wings extended from his back, strong and wide; a dominant male’s stance of ownership.

  And they were beautiful.

  She loved how hard he was, but loved the flower’s effect on him as well. With skin like stone, he was impervious to most everything. Even pleasure. Except touching him now, there was no doubt he felt ever
y caress.

  Ginger tugged at the knot of his loincloth, and the fabric fell away easily, as if it too were eager to display Slade’s natural gifts to her eyes.

  For a moment, she felt like a virgin: all girlish and unsure, and maybe just a bit afraid. Not because his cock was so big, though it was, but because this was intimate. She was allowing him inside of her, and he’d take her, mark her.

  She wanted it, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t wise enough to allow it the importance it deserved.

  “Change your mind?” he whispered, voice ragged.

  “No, but I was thinking how this would change me.”

  “You already changed yourself.” He kissed her softly. “Do you still want it wild? You want the beastly nature of my kind?”

  “Oh, yes.” Rather than wait for him to pull her jeans off, she used to magick to make them and her panties disappear. She was so ready for him.

  He hauled her up against him, and she wrapped her legs around his hips. Their body dimensions weren’t exactly aligned to have sex while flying, but this was almost as good—feeling all of his hot, hard flesh pressed to her, his arms cocooning her tight.

  No, she decided, This was actually better. This was real, whereas the other had been just a fantasy.

  “Is this really happening?”

  “If you want it to be.”

  Everything he did was so much about what she wanted. She almost didn’t know how to process it.

  He carried her up to the roof, the highest point on her property where they could see the land surrounding them and, with his wings spread out behind him, it was easy to believe he held dominion over all they saw.

  Slade sank down and pulled her so that she straddled him and he looked only into her eyes. “I claim you, Ginger.”

  “Yes.” But instead of submitting to him and offering him her throat, she went for his. Her blunt teeth would never pierce his skin, but her intent was clear. “I claim you, Slade.”

  Just as he buried his teeth in her neck, he entered her.

  Her universe narrowed to a pinpoint that was only Slade. He was the beginning. He was the end. He was everything.

  She was utterly consumed by him—the pain was secondary to the mark. It burned like sweet ambrosia, drifting languid and slick through her veins. The focal point of the sensation was all between her thighs.

  It had never been this good.

  Ginger wanted to make it good for him, wanted him to be as consumed as she was, but she was at his not-so-tender mercy and the riot of pleasure that ricocheted through her like so many bullets.

  DAY SEVEN

  She awoke, sore and well-used, to a delicious breakfast in bed.

  Ginger realized that they’d spent most of their time together so far in her bedroom, but when they’d actually had sex, it had been on the roof.

  She blushed, thinking about what had happened between them the day before. He knew things about her body, had seen parts of her she’d never seen herself. It had been the culmination of a fantasy.

  But so was this morning.

  Gavin had sent servants to bring her breakfast in bed in the early years of their marriage, but he’d never done so with his own hands.

  “Waffles.” Slade nodded, as if the sweet breakfast treats were serious matters of state. “Eat. Keep your strength.”

  The mountain of waffles on the plate was just too much. There was no way that she’d ever be able to eat all of that, though part of her wanted to try.

  “If I eat that, my ass will get huge.”

  “Round. Juicy. Perfect.” He winked at her. Slade knelt by the side of the bed, his size too massive to actually sit on the furniture with her—she’d have to remedy that—and offered her a bite from his own fingers, syrup dripping.

  “If you feed me like this, I’ll eat anything you offer me.”

  “Anything?” Slade raised a brow and used his other hand to draw the carafe of syrup down toward his loin cloth.

  Ginger laughed and took the bite from his fingers, just as he’d done to her with the bacon, only she didn’t bother to be stealthy. Instead, she swiped her tongue all the way down his digit and back up to the tip just to make sure she got all the syrup.

  At least that’s what she hoped her expression conveyed.

  His lashes fluttered closed. “You keep doing that, you won’t get to eat.”

  “Oh, why? Will you ravish me senseless?”

  “Most definitely.”

  “That sounds almost better than breakfast. Almost.” She chewed dutifully. “But I don’t see why we can’t multitask.” After she swallowed, she opened her mouth for another bite. If he wanted to feed her who was she to argue?

  “Woman,” he warned.

  She liked the timbre in his voice; the way it touched her as intimately as any caress.

  Ginger performed on his finger again, and he pushed it a little deeper into her mouth.

  She disengaged, and he allowed her to push him back on the stone tile of her bedroom floor, snagging the syrup as she went. Using her magick, she stripped him of his loincloth.

  “You said that where you’re from, your people don’t wear anything. When you’re here with me, unless you’re on duty, you should always be naked.”

  “As should you.”

  She laughed and heat suffused her cheeks. “I want to look at you, not me.”

  “And I want to look at you. You’re just so damn soft everywhere.” There was a kind of awe in his voice. She was suddenly happy that she hadn’t been born with those kind of magick charms that kept her hardbodied. She used to be so jealous that it hadn’t been one of her gifts, but it was like she’d been made for this gargoyle, and this moment.

  He was so hard and she so soft. The perfect complement to one another’s flesh.

  Ginger loved how smooth his skin and body were, like marble. The only hair he had was that of his mane, long and silky over his shoulder. His cock, unencumbered.

  Perfect for a bit of maple drizzle.

  She held his gaze while she dripped the sticky goodness on his cock. He watched her, one eyebrow raised and a smirk curling his lips.

  “Better not leave it sticky, or I might have to spank you.”

  “That’s not a deterrent, Slade.”

  “You want me to spank you?” He shifted, as if to grab her.

  She held up her hand. “Nuh-uh. This is my turn.”

  “Whatever my lady desires.”

  Ginger had to admit, now that she knew he really did want her, it was hot as hell hearing him call her his lady, acting subservient. She knew damn well he’d take what he wanted, he’d manipulate and cajole to get his way, but it wasn’t malignant in any way.

  It was all about pleasure.

  Both his and hers.

  She dipped her head, taking him deep, the syrup helping his thick cock glide deep into her mouth. Ginger licked the sweetness along the shaft and around the crown just as she’d done to his fingers.

  He groaned, thrusting upward to meet her, but she pulled back.

  “This is my treat, remember?” She grinned.

  “Woman, just remember that when it’s my treat and I have you flat on your back.”

  She shivered in anticipation of that rough, velvety tongue slipping inside of her, caressing her clit. She couldn’t wait.

  But she loved how he responded to her tongue, loved that a creature so strong, so powerful, was utterly at her mercy.

  Ginger licked another slow path up and around his cock, the syrup a reward for a job well done.

  “Goddess above, Ginger,” he groaned.

  She relaxed her jaw but couldn’t take him as deeply was she would’ve liked. But, from the look on his face, that didn’t matter much to him.

  Ginger worked his cock with one goal in mind—his pleasure. She wanted to pleasure him the way he’d pleasured her. She wanted him to feel all the things he wrought in her. He made her feel wanted. He made her feel beautiful.

  He made her come so hard she saw st
ars.

  Slade was as beautiful in his ecstasy as he was in everything else; his body a perfect machine, the highest pinnacle of evolution. She loved the taste of him, the thrust of his hips as he sought more of what she had to offer.

  The syrup was gone now, but she didn’t need it. She wanted to taste him, feel the texture of his thickness on her tongue, pressing against the inside of her cheeks.

  His fingers threaded through her hair, but he didn’t try to press her down. She wouldn’t have minded if he had, though. It would’ve made her feel even more possessed by him.

  This was her gift, something she was good at. This was what she’d satisfied the warlocks with at Academy when her mother made it clear she had to be pure for her wedding night.

  She knew what every sigh meant, every tense corded group of muscles, and exactly what to do with these signs—how to bring him the most bliss, should she desire it.

  Ginger pushed him higher, drew out his orgasm until the low growl in his throat was practically a roar.

  She drained him dry and loved every second of it.

  When he was replete and sprawled on his back, she slid up next to him. “I really like syrup.”

  “You shall have it any time you want it.”

  It occurred to her that’s all she had to say. Not just about syrup, but about anything. Any time she wanted something, he was determined to provide it. So unlike her previous experiences.

  She opened her mouth to tell him so, but he pounced on her, and Ginger couldn’t even speak her own name to save her life once he started doing naughty things to her with his tongue.

  DAY EIGHT

  They spent the whole day previous in bed. Or as in bed as a beast as large as he could get. She’d had to shore up the foundation with stone. Luckily, she had magick to help.

  Ginger was determined to be productive. Although, she couldn’t say being in bed wasn’t productive. She’d certainly gotten her workout.

  Part of her was afraid to believe that this was real, that this could be her life.

  “Slade, are you awake?”

  “Yes.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “How long have you been awake?”

  “Since you started staring at me.”