“Are we going to have sex tonight, or did you travel across the country to nibble my breasts until dawn?”

With a low, throaty chuckle, Jon cupped her chin in his hand, turned her head to face him, and leaned down to tickle her forehead with his mop of sandy brown hair. “Yes. Barring any protest on your part, we’re most definitely going to have sex.” He slipped his arm under the curve of her back to pull her closer.

“I’m assuming Bryan covered the important parts of Witch Genetics 101?”

“If by that you mean no disease risk, and you control your fertility cycle, yeah, he spent a lot of time detailing the benefits of those points.”

With a throaty chuckle, she arched her hips, impatient and hungry. Jon buried his cock inside her, and she closed her eyes to enjoy the wash of color accompanying the sensations. “Better.” Oh sweet goddess, “better” didn’t begin to sum up the delicious, stretchy, achy fullness.

“So how -- in your opinion -- was Tim’s death your fault?” Maneuvering deeper, he let out a little groan of contentment.

Oh, bless it, can’t we do this without the conversation? With a frustrated sigh, she decided to humor him. If he wanted to talk, she was more than capable of doing two things at once.

“We were fighting. He’d walked in on a spell after I’d promised I wouldn’t do them at home anymore. That’s a long story. One that would have ended the marriage sooner or later.”

As Jon bumped her cervix, she groaned and gasped for air. “We were arguing, and he stormed out. Screeched out of the driveway. And died twenty yards from the front door when a pickup careened into his BMW.”

“So you blame yourself because you’d been arguing?” Swirling his hips in a slow spiral, he came to rest so tight against her that his pubic bone bit into hers.

“No. Because I’d let him bully me into weakening my gifts. I would have known, otherwise. Would have sensed the danger. But I was so out of practice, I didn’t have the slightest intimation of impending disaster.”

“Which was tragic. And ironically, his fault, for trying to make you someone you weren’t meant to be.” Rising until only the tip of his cock pressed against her, he hesitated a moment before completing the downward plunge. “But most definitely not…”

“Not my fault.” With a sigh, she arched to welcome the slick heat of his cock, arched higher yet to take him deeper inside.

“Why’d he make you stop? The magic, I mean?”

Aileen shrugged. “One of those power plays that start once love becomes tepid?” Truth was, he’d had regrets -- had been ashamed of her talents.

She pressed her face into Jon’s chest and uttered a silent plea that he was done talking, that he’d continue moving just like -- Oh yeah, right there. When he cupped his hands under her ass, she squirmed sideways to avoid another attempt to breach regions best left untouched, but he was too quick for her and buried his finger in the spot previously explored by his thumb.

“You have a thing about my ass?” The shadows from the shifting embers gave his face an impish appearance, and she decided maybe hot, sweaty witch sex was what she needed to take her mind off her troubles.

“Mmm. Nice and soft, round, curvy, and when I wiggle my finger right about here…”

With a grunt of surprise, she arched against him.

“You make all sorts of neat noises and get all wet. What you need is wild, scorching witch sex. Edgy, and a bit over-the-top.”

“Fierce?”

“Mmm.” He shivered as she raked her nails along his spine. “Fierce is good. Leave some skin though.”

Blessed goddess, he was starting to get under hers. Like a drug, he was seeping into her system, and she didn’t have the heart to tell him this could never work.

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