Wickedly Good (Hex Appeal)

by Anya Breton

  Aston couldn’t stand it a second longer. He had to have her. She was too beautiful, too sexy and above all too perfect, standing there, pleading with her eyes alone for him to make the right decision. His mouth closed over hers, urging hers open so he could delve his tongue into her sweetness.

  When she should have been concerned about him deceiving her again, the sweet witch had instead been concerned about his happiness. He’d never been more certain of what would make him content. Now he’d have to work on making sure she was happy too.

  Just as soon as he dealt with his need for her.

  His dick had been playing the bouncing game between erect and flaccid since he spotted her standing on the boat’s stern. It was through no fault of hers that he’d deflated. Their serious conversation—one that would set the tone for the rest of his life—had been enough to cool his ardor. And yet only for so long. The moment he caressed the silk of her skin, his dick sprang to life again. It was a wonder she hadn’t protested when he’d been near.

  Gemma made a sound at the back of her throat that was a combination of a moan and a protest. He forced his lips away to give her the chance to put a stop to this.

  “I just want you to be happy,” she said rather than crying foul.

  He stroked along her downy cheeks because he couldn’t resist touching her. “I am happy, Gemma. For the first time in too long, I’m exactly where I want to be.” The incredulous tilt of her head was simply too cute. He could no more resist kissing her than the trade winds could resist flowing toward the equator. “I’d be happier if I knew I had you.”

  She was silent and still. Aston’s heart dove into his toes. He withdrew, giving her the space she obviously needed. The loss tugged at his insides with a visceral pain.

  Did she know she held his life in her palm?

  She drew her lower lip between her teeth, eyes focused on something just past his feet. Aston hung on her every breath. If only there was a way to share what he felt. Words hadn’t been enough.

  What seemed like forever later, Gemma’s gaze lifted to his. Her teeth released her lip. “Can we go slow?”

  Air whooshed out of his lungs at a startling pace. He shot across the space to enfold her in his arms. “Of course. Yes. We’ll go however you want, love, only tell me I can have you.”

  “If I tell you that, you’ll want to dominate me.”

  His back went straight and air stalled inside his chest. “I—”

  “I want to go slow on that too, Aston,” she interrupted when he had no good answer beyond a hesitant syllable.

  Emotion burst within, pressing at his seams with an ache he doubted would ever go away. “I would say and do anything right now,” he whispered, the truth. “I need you that badly.”

  “Just say we can go slow.”

  Aston hauled her close, ignoring the erection now straining his pants. He framed Gemma’s face, marveling at his fortune. “You can have everything. Your slow, your fast, your gallery, your occasional freedom.”

  Gemma punched him in the shoulder as her lips quirked, fighting a smile. “I mean it, Aston. I’ve never been in anything serious before and what you’re talking about sounds serious.”

  “Serious as a town decimated by a twister,” he assured her.

  She punched him again and he found he liked her spunk.

  It was time for one last serious discussion and then her bikini was coming off. He stepped back so her heat wasn’t caressing his dick through the layer of his khakis. But he didn’t release her cheeks. If he had his way, he’d touch her every moment from this one on through the rest of their lives.

  “I’m a monster,” he began in his gravest voice, “when I need to be. I’m dominant. I’m possessive. I’m highly jealous if I’m not secure in what I have. But I’m also fiercely loyal, unpredictably passionate and disturbingly sentimental. I’m yours, warts and all, if you’ll have me.”

  She let out a small laugh complimented by a beautiful smile. “I like your warts.”

  “I’ll tattoo your name on every one. Gemma,” he growled as he brought her fully against him. “I can’t resist any longer. Forgive me. But that bikini is coming off.”

  Gemma still found it unbelievable anyone would struggle with lust for her. The erection straining against her inner thigh was proof. Few would have been aroused by their sober discussion. Yet Aston even now grazed his digits along her neck. His goal seemed to be the knot at her nape. And the fiberglass bench.

  He really did need to get her out of the bikini.

  Acknowledging his lust was a shot of awareness straight to her core. Gemma’s clit immediately throbbed to life. Dear Aer. How had she stood, conversing about the future for so long, without shoving her hand up his shirt or down his shorts?

  Aston worked, with nimble gestures, at the tie behind her neck. The fabric tickled the fine hairs, sending a hot shiver down her back. Gemma bit her lip to keep from demanding he hurry. Every slip of the straps over her shoulders was like a tease from a naughty little sprite.

  She was stared into the bright eyes of the last man she ever thought she’d end up with. He held her intent gaze for a heavy beat then pulled the straps down all the way, slowly revealing her breasts and groaning as he did.

  Her head fell back when he tongued her right nipple. Sensation webbed out, waking every nerve between her skull and her thighs and several in places she’d not expected. Aston’s hands curved behind her, where they set to work on the ties holding the top to her torso. Moments later she was nude from the waist up.

  His mouth worked over her bare breast, there on the stern of an open boat atop the Atlantic Ocean. Never had she felt so naughty and decadent. Anyone could sail by and catch them in the act. Right then she couldn’t have cared less.

  Gemma stretched her body in a languid motion that pulled her clit tight against Aston’s cock. He answered her move by dropping a hand to her bikini bottoms. It ground into her mound, teasing the throbbing nub and dragging a needy moan from her throat.

  “I hope you’re not going to go slow this time,” she managed to get out in between heavy inhales.

  “Next time.”

  Gemma laughed breathily at the growled answer.

  “Aer! I need inside you now.” His fingers plunged beneath the band of her black bottoms. Immediately they dove through her slick folds to curl into her pussy. Gemma arched against him, releasing a moan that was swallowed by the salty breeze.

  Without warning, he almost dropped her. Gemma stumbled slightly before recovering. His fumbling at the ties at her hip and a subsequent curse implied he was having difficulties getting her out of her bikini.

  In a hurry, was he? Gemma grasped the metal fastener on his shorts. She’d nearly gotten the thing through the hole when Aston reminded her what his other hand had been up to. The slide of his fingers out of her pussy and then back in was simply sinful.

  “Oh,” she groaned, biting down on her lip to stifle the sound. Until he repeated the action. The breeze swallowed yet another whimper.

  Determined to get him out of his bottoms so she could torment him as he did her, Gemma concentrated on nothing but the task. Until his thumb circled her clit.

  Gemma slammed her pelvis against him to ease the intense sensation that swelled within. “Oh, that’s wicked!”

  “Wickedly good,” he rumbled into her ear while fumbling with the ties at her other hip.

  She smiled through her lust at the boyish response. Gemma managed to unbutton and unzip him in between his wonderful massages. Aston must have known his dexterity would become compromised as soon as her fingers closed around his cock, because his talented digits nearly brought her to the brink of orgasm seconds before she released him.

  His light eyes fluttered closed, a long groan shook his chest. And then Aston had her ass in his palms. The bikini bottoms slipped down her thighs, falling to the rough surface beneath her bare feet. He lifted her, turning so he could take her place on the bench. Gemma bent her legs in anticipation
of straddling his lap.

  Soon she was exactly where she wanted to be, stretched in front of him with his hands on her backside, his lips around her nipple and his cock straining to reach her pussy. Gemma positioned him where she needed him. Together, they moved without discussion, hips rolling up and pelvis sliding down. The thick, swollen head breached her tender passage. A gust of hot sensation shot through her as he stretched her taut.

  Aston’s arms clamped around her. His shuddering groan tugged one from her lips.

  This was perfect.

  He wasn’t, but she didn’t want perfection. Perfection was what she’d imagined Drew to be. That had turned out to be a lie.

  Aston wasn’t a lie. He was real. And he wanted her to be his.

  Gemma’s thoughts flickered when Aston released her nipple to possess her lips. He kissed with hidden passion—an experience that would make any woman mindless. And that was without the accompanying sex.

  Aston lifted her with impressive strength and lowered her in time with his thrusts. His cock glided within, stroking every tender nerve as if it was the magic key shaped to fit each crevice. A flurry of heat billowed to her toes, curling them against the fiberglass. She puffed lusty noises down his throat while swallowing his in return.

  He allowed her to come up for air without slowing his wild pace. Gemma feathered a hand over his beard—enjoying the texture she’d felt that first night. Just one small part of her hadn’t recognized Aston in the darkness. He destroyed that fragment when he navigated the ocean to claim her heart.

  Gemma scraped her cheek along his and then took his mouth again. The pace faltered as his heady rumble vibrated them both. She surged her slick tunnel over his cock, seeking the rhythm he’d established. Aston quaked beneath her, hinting he was close. Gemma doubted she’d have been able to last long even without his earlier torment.

  Her fingers dug into his shoulders. Whimpers came faster than her breath. She slumped over him when the orgasm blasted through her body. Aston broke into frenzied thrusts within her quivering muscles. Gemma came three times as long as usual thanks to the whirlwind of his body joining hers.

  Amazing. She was absolutely certain sex had never been so good.

  Hot seed pumped within when, ultimately, Aston lost control. This time she didn’t contemplate fertility. She clung to him instead, panting and sweaty but wholly content.

  “Gemma,” he breathed. “You didn’t answer me.”

  “I forgot the question.”

  Aston leaned back until he could see her. His furrowed forehead nearly made her laugh. She was unable to stifle it when his lips pursed. The half-smile he couldn’t hide ruined his mock irritation.

  Perhaps it was time to ease his worry. “I’ll be yours on one condition.”

  “Anything.”

  Should she ask for something impossible simply to see what he’d say? No, she was too pleased to torture him more. “You have to be mine too. And only mine.”

  “I am yours, Gemma. Whether you want me or not.”

  “Oh, I want you.” She wiggled to show him exactly how much she wanted him.

  Aston’s answering groan was promising. But the thickening of his cock was more so. Gemma’s breath caught. And held when he gave her a naughty little grin.

  “Forgot that little perk of witch physiology, did you?” He rolled his hips, reminding her exactly what she’d forgotten.

  “I think that part of witch physiology is going to be my downfall.”

  Aston let out a hearty chuckle. “And I think I need a sailboat of my own.”

  “Oh, I could come to enjoy fishing.”

  He nipped playfully at her neck. “You’ll be coming all right.”

  “Oh, Aston. You’re wicked.”

  “Wickedly good.”

  The End

  About Anya Breton

  Anya Breton is a web monkey, Apple fan girl and crazy cat lady who is mildly obsessed with rubber chickens and wholly believes that Peeps are evil (yes, the marshmallow candy). She was born in New England into a family of weirdoes. Being an only child, she quickly learned to amuse herself with quirky pastimes. It was inevitable that she'd turn to reading and writing. After writing fanciful (and sickeningly sweet) love stories, Anya branched out into erotica, paranormal romance, young adult and urban fantasy. She currently resides in the American Midwest with her cats and a good man!

  Anya welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

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  Wickedly Good

  ISBN 9781419942167

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  Wickedly Good Copyright © 2012 Anya Breton

  Edited by Carrie Jackson

  Cover design by Irene Adler

  Photos: KatieLittle, TeoXanthi.emjay Smith, Elen Studio/Shutterstock.com

  Electronic book publication November 2012

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