Sylvia Day - Spellbound

“I love you.” She offered her mouth and he took it with breathtaking passion.

“I love you back.”

Finally content, Victoria’s lips curved against his in a catlike smile.

Max Westin stood in the coffee shop across the street from the St. John Hotel and barely tempered his anticipation for the orgasms he’d be relishing in the hours ahead.

The woman who would be serving his needs was already inside. He’d watched Victoria greet her morning business appointment at the curb, her lithe body encased in a black pencil skirt and emerald silk blouse that perfectly matched her sloe eyes. She’d been wearing nude stilettos, making her already long legs appear endless.

He couldn’t wait to feel them wrapped around his hips, tightening in a vain effort to hold his thrusting cock inside her.

The barista called out his name and he went to the counter to collect Victoria’s favorite tea, which he’d ordered liberally laced with heavy cream. As he exited to the street, he checked his watch, noting that he would be exactly on time to use lunch as an excuse to monopolize her attentions. His blood thrummed through his veins, heating with every step he took.

He’d been gone for two days on a High Council summons and he felt the withdrawals of separation acutely. His dick was thick and heavy between his legs, his balls full and tight. The need to come in the tight, plush depths of Victoria’s honey-sweet cunt rode him hard.

Max entered the St. John through the revolving lobby door and nodded at the three employees manning the front desk. If he’d been certain Victoria’s morning meeting was over, he could’ve bridged the distance between them in the blink of an eye, an embarrassingly simple spell for a warlock of his power. Instead, he rounded the corner to step into the private pass-coded elevator.

As the car began its ascent, he forcibly reined in his desire. His endless hunger for his mate had been sharpened by the black magic that shrouded his latest hunt. Although Victoria was more than strong enough to sate his darkest cravings, he wanted to greet her with tenderness. He wanted to show her that he’d missed her from the very depths of his soul—because he’d begun a hunt without her and knew that would hurt her, despite the validity of his reasons for doing so.

The moment the elevator doors opened on the executive level, he saw her. His chest tightened with the ferocity of his love for her, the fierce sense of connection he’d only ever felt with her. She stood in the reception area of her office, one hand on a slim hip and a wide smile on her stunning face. She spoke to the two men Max had seen with her on the street, and their avid gazes betrayed their heated masculine appreciation. The men were enchanted by her beauty and mischievous nature, as all males were, and she was toying with them like the cat she was.

Max gestured for her secretary to remain quiet so he could enjoy the show, but Victoria felt him, felt the charge of power that surged between them and the inner serenity that came from being rejoined with the other half of one’s self. She glanced at him, and he could almost see her swish her tail.

“Ah, gentlemen,” she purred. “You’ll have to excuse me now. My lunch date is here.”

The two suits looked at him then, sizing him up.

“Don’t let me rush you,” Max told her. “I can wait.”

“I can’t.” She came to him and took the cup from his hand. “My favorite tea. Thank you. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable in my office? I won’t be but a moment.”

He moved to do as she asked, his hand brushing affectionately and proprietarily over the curve of her hip.

Victoria’s office had walls of windows on two sides—one overlooking the bustling city below and the other facing the reception area. It was a feminine space that still conveyed power, and it was where she ran a hospitality empire. Her quick and clever mind kept her a few steps ahead of her competition, while her feline sensibilities assured comfort, luxury, and unobtrusive service for her clientele.

Unbuttoning the jacket of his Armani suit, Max shrugged out of it and tossed it over the back of a chair facing her desk.

Before he’d ever met her, he had admired her intelligence and ambition. In the time they’d been together, his respect and appreciation had only deepened. Being here, in her lair, reinforced his pride in her accomplishments. He knew damn well how fortunate he was to be the man who laid claim to her. It was a decision he’d make again if given the choice, even knowing what it would cost him and all he would risk to share his life with such a magnificent woman.

She entered the office in a rush, her eyes bright with love and pleasure at the sight of him. Her glossy raven hair was shorn close to her scalp, to better showcase her slender neck and sculpted cheekbones. That luxurious pelt remained unchanged in her feline form along with her eyes. In either incarnation—woman or Familiar—she took his breath away.

Love for her lengthened his cock and goaded every primal instinct he possessed. She’d been close to feral when they first met. His assignment had been to either tame her for eventual pairing with another warlock or vanquish her. In the end, he could do nothing but keep her for himself. She’d become as necessary to him as the air he breathed. The shadows of wildness in her perfectly suited his tendency to skirt the edges of black magic.

Kicking the door shut behind her, Victoria crossed the expansive room with her lush feline grace. “I’ve missed you like crazy, Max.”

“No more than I’ve missed you.” He wrapped her throat with his hands, mimicking the collar that bound her to him. With a thought, he set a glamour on the wall of windows framing her office door, shielding their embrace from view of the reception area and creating a compulsion to avoid disturbing them.

He was home. She was his home.

Max took her mouth in lush hot kiss, his tongue thrusting deep and sure, sliding along hers. His grip tightened, not enough to cut off her air, but enough to increase the feeling of pressure that would urge her mind away from work and into the place where just the two of them existed. Victoria moaned and melted into him, instantly shedding the weight of command and surrendering to his insatiable need for her. A wild joy filled him.

I love you. Her ardent declaration slid through his mind like fragrant smoke, chasing away the shadows that had steadily encroached on him over the last two days. Black magic was seductive, and hunting two consummate practitioners had reawakened his craving for it. If not for Victoria’s love, he might be vulnerable to its lure. She kept him sane and straight, anchoring him as his power continued to grow with every day that passed.

His lips parted from hers and moved to her ear. “Were you good while I was gone?”

She clutched his waist. “Of course. But it was hard.”

Pulling back, he looked at her. He rubbed his thumb over her full bottom lip, knowing how needy she must be after obeying his command not to pleasure herself while he was gone. “Not as hard as my dick has been the last two days. I was going to wait until after lunch, but I’ll have your mouth now, kitten.”

She nipped the pad of his thumb with her teeth, her eyes submissively downcast. He tugged her backward, keeping her with him until he reached the front of her desk and half sat on the edge.

“Touch me,” he ordered, needing her hands on him.

She unbuttoned his vest with nimble fingers, parting the edges to run her hands down the length of his tie. “What did the High Council want?”

“What They always want.” He took a deep breath, hesitating to ruin her happy mood. “Sirius Powell escaped.”

Victoria stilled, her hand settling over his heart. Then she pulled a chair over and sat. “How is that possible?”

“He had help—Xander Barnes escaped with him.”

Her hand went to her throat, feeling for the collar that only those who practiced magic could see. His collar—the symbol of her submission and his possession. Victoria understood the gravity of the news. Both Powell and Barnes were vicious rogues so addicted to black magic that they killed those who practiced it to steal their power.

She didn’t ask him why They’d chosen him. She knew he was the Council’s first choice for hunting Others—those who’d crossed over too far into black magic and couldn’t be saved. Still, he elaborated, “I’m the one who captured them both to begin with.”

Her hand dropped to her lap and curled into a fist. “Of course. Were they separate then? Or together?”

“Separate. But my orders are different this time. Now I just need to put them down.”

“You said ‘I’ instead of ‘we.’ ” Her gaze hardened. “We’re a team, Max. You don’t work alone anymore.”

He cupped her face in his hands. As a Hunter of rogues, he shouldn’t have a Familiar. While Familiars augmented a warlock or witch’s power tremendously, they were also a terrible point of weakness in battle. He understood firsthand how true that was, because he’d very nearly lost Victoria in their fight against the Triumvirate. The sight of her bleeding and broken in the snow that night, her life slipping away even as he gripped her body close, had taken him to the brink of insanity. But he would never give her up; he couldn’t. He had forsaken everything he’d ever worked for, forfeiting a prized seat on the High Council and thereby inciting its members’ wrath, because his life wasn’t worth living without her in it.

“There’s a reason Hunters don’t have Familiars,” he reminded gently. “Besides, this is unfinished business from before I met you.”

“So was my fight against the Triumvirate,” she shot back, “but I let you fight it with me. Don’t you dare act like I’m a liability.”

His fingertips followed the curve of her eyebrows. “You’re my heart.”

“Max.” Her voice softened. But as she searched his face, her gaze narrowed and took on the calculating look of a clever feline.

To distract her and remind her of the command she had yet to obey, he waved a hand and stood before her naked, his clothes folded neatly on the sofa behind her. Sitting at eye level with his groin, Victoria licked her lips. She fought her need to obey for a moment, then conceded and reached for him, her slender hands circling his aching length.

Max’s hands slid to her throat, tilting her chin up so that their gazes met. “You’ll suck my cock because it pleases me, not because you see it as a way to manage me.”

“Why can’t it be for both reasons?” she challenged.

“Ah, Victoria,” he crooned, his blood heating at a dangerous pace. With a focused thought, silken rope appeared and coiled sinuously around her wrists, binding them behind her back. “Let’s occupy that pretty mouth of yours with something else before you get spanked.”

“Max . . . ” She trembled with excitement, her nipples hard beneath her blouse. As much as she liked control, she liked relinquishing it as well—to him. Him alone.

“On your knees,” he murmured, stroking himself from root to tip.

She slid from the chair and lowered gracefully to the floor, her balance honed by her feline side.

He fisted his cock, stroking a stream of pre-cum to the tip. “Lick it off, kitten. With that hot, rough little tongue of yours.”

Tilting her head back, she opened her mouth, moaning when he cupped the back of her head in one hand and slid his cock into her with the other.

“Deep and slow,” he instructed.

Max watched her submit, a groan tearing from him at the feel of her. Her mouth flowed over him, surrounding the sensitive crown in a wash of wet heat. His head bowed forward, his gaze slitting as his eyelids became weighted with drugging desire. He touched her hair, running his fingers through the short cap of silky strands, trying to convey without words how much he treasured her.

Then she sucked, pulling him deeper, and his body stiffened as the pleasure threatened to destroy the reins of his control.

He groaned, his dick so hard it ached. “You suck me so good. There’s nothing in the world like fucking your greedy little mouth.”

Her wicked tongue fluttered across the underside of his cock head and sweat broke out on his chest. She watched him with those tip-tilted green eyes, her love burning hotly, her awareness of her feminine power shining in the emerald depths. The tip of her tongue probed the hole at the head of his cock, lapping up the pre-cum that flowed in a steady stream.