He sighed, relinquishing total control. The weight on his shoulders disintegrated; his worries fading by letting me rule.

I was a goddess.

I was a witch.

The thrill at having his utmost trust feathered through my soul.

He didn’t twitch or smile as I tugged his boxer briefs from hips to knees. His nostrils flared as I left the tight material around his legs, imprisoning him where he stood—cutting his tattooed mermaid in half.

My heart beat faster at his perfect length and thickness. I couldn’t ask for a better lover. Even when I was fourteen, I’d wanted him. Wanted to know what existed in his trousers. Wanted to touch him. Lick him.

He wouldn’t let me then. But he will now.

Rising up on my knees again, I grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and raised it over his head.

With half a smile, which was so damn sexy it hurt my heart, he ducked and raised his arms. With a sharp tug, the T-shirt flew over his head. I dropped it to the abandoned clothing on the floor. They were like leaves from a giant tree, shedding for another season.

The moment Arthur was naked, a delicious sparkle effervesced through me. He was chocolate and Christmas all at once.

He’s mine.

Having him so exposed, while I wore his jacket claiming me as his property, made me feel powerful—invincible. I wasn’t owned—I owned him.

I loved the aphrodisiac … the knowledge he would let me do anything.

His hand captured my cheek, his thumb rubbing over my skin.

My fingers tightened around his cock, tugging him closer to the bed.

He groaned, his eyes fluttering to half-mast. “Christ, you undo me, Buttercup.” His hand fell away and I licked my lips at the thought of bringing this warrior, this incredible biker, to his knees.

My new jacket creaked as I shuffled closer, never letting go of his erection.

I grew wet.

I grew eager.

Stroking him, I ran my thumb once again along the tip.

The muscles in his neck stood out as he hissed between his teeth. His eyes remained closed while every inch of his powerful body stiffened.

He knew as well as I did what I was about to do. His hands fisted by his sides, humming with impatience and joy. We hovered on the knife edge, waiting to explode.

With one hand squeezing his length, I cupped his balls with the other.

“Shit,” he breathed as I tugged the soft skin and trailed my touch upward to press against the erogenous zone behind his cock.

He staggered. “Fuck me. What are you doing to me, Cleo?”

“Giving you pleasure.”

I wanted to draw the moment out but my legs trembled and my mouth ached to fit around him. With the way he shuddered, I doubted he had the self-control to let me postpone much longer.

I want to taste.

Taking a deep breath, I stopped torturing and gave him something he’d never let any other woman do.

I’m taking this from you.

I’m the only one who will ever lick you this way.

I felt as if I cast a spell, binding him to me forever.

Leaning forward, I breathed on him, letting the heat cascade over sensitive flesh.

He froze, gulping in air.

“I want to suck you,” I whispered.

“Fuck …,” he groaned.

Tugging his balls, I positioned my head above him, and with the flat of my tongue, licked him for the very first time.

My heart banged against my ribs.

“Oh, shit.” His hands shot upward to fist in my hair.

He was sweet, musky. Hot. So hot.

His thighs trembled; he dug his toes into the carpet. His scent instantly wrapped around my soul and squeezed.

I licked him again, relishing in the way he quaked and shivered.

“Fuck.” He shuddered again, his hands yanking on my hair. The mermaid with her red hair and green tail danced on his thigh as he braced himself. Her strands wrapped around his balls, inking the end of his shaft as I opened my mouth and guided him inside.

A grunt—half pleasure, half pain but complete submission—wrenched from his lungs.

I smiled, stretching my lips around his thickness as I licked the underside, sucking his length with deep pulls.

I didn’t move quickly or slowly. I didn’t take him hesitantly or boldly. I took him peacefully, reverently—both of us adjusting to the power switch of me taking, not submitting.

His body never stopped vibrating. He growled and cursed, littering the air with passion. Slowly, his tension bloomed into need as he grew accustomed to the foreign sensation of being sucked.

My jaw ached as I sheathed my teeth and sank over him as far as I could go. My lips wrapped around him, claiming him as my own.

“Fuck!” His hands wrapped harder in my hair. He didn’t try to control me, but his hold was firm, fisting the long strands into a ponytail, steadying himself as if he’d topple at any moment.

I was hot.

I was cold.

I was wet.

So wet.

Unconsciously, I fell into a rhythm. My right hand moved up and down, spreading the slipperiness of my saliva.

Keeping the sharpness of my teeth away from his delicate flesh, I dragged my tongue up the silky steel and down again.

Up, down.

Lick, swirl.

“Fuck, you’re incredible.” Arthur’s hips moved to match my pace, thrusting in time, but never taking more than I offered.

His fingers slowly started to guide me, forgetting everything but seeking the final reward. Pinpricks of pain danced over my scalp, sending washes of desire through my system.

I never knew I could become so wet by doing something singular for him.