Witchmate (Skeleton Key) by Renee George, Skeleton Key Page A

stomach. Keir felt her wetness, could scent her lust, and he knew there was one more part of her he wanted to sample. His eyes pivoted southward. “And your sweet, sacred vessel.”
    “Yes, yes,” Emma said. “The sacred vessel.”
    He spread her wide, his tongue dipping between the folds of her heated sex. She raised her hips to give him more access, and he buried his tongue inside her. She moaned her pleasure.
    Keir kissed his way back up her stomach, licked each nipple, nibbled her collarbone, and then planted himself on top of her again. “I want to make love to you until your body explodes beneath me. I want to hear you cry for more as I seat myself deep inside you, conquering you with every thrust. I want to hear you scream my name as I plant my seed in your womb.” He went to his knees, undid his breaches, and shoved them down his thighs. He sprung erect, the tip glistening with a pearl of his passion. “I want,” he said, his voice breathless and hoarse. “You.”
    ****
    Emma didn’t even pay attention to the stupid vine around her waist as it dug into her back. All she saw was Keir, and Keir’s very large and very thick length daring her to even try denying her own desire. “You’re…really big.”
    “Do you want to stop?”
    She considered his question. She was a virgin, but she wasn’t naive. Keir lived every day like it could be his last. If this was her last day, would she regret denying Keir? Yes. “No,” she said, swallowing hard. “I don’t want you to stop.”
    A rumble that vibrated his entire body reverberated from his chest. “Good,” he said, his voice thick.
    Keir spread her thighs, his fingertip dancing over her clitoris. “Jesus,” she said. Her sex throbbed with eager anticipation. He slid a finger inside her slick channel.
    “You’re so wet.” His stare was intense, otherworldly. The normal whiskey color had taken on more golds and ambers. He put his hand to his mouth and licked her from his fingers. “So good.”
    Pressure began to build in her groin as heat fled her limbs to gather at her core. “Take me, Keir. I want you in me.”
    He lifted her thighs, and she felt the press of his thickness against her opening. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
    Emma caressed his face. “Hurt me.”
    He forced himself inside, and every inch of him felt as if she were being split apart. Emma cried out as the pain eroded her lust.
    Keir stopped his forward motion. Emma blindly reached around him, groping at his backside to keep him from withdrawing. The pain was ebbing, but it would be nothing compared to the emptiness he would leave behind if he stopped.
    The last few inches, Keir thrust in a quick movement that buried him until their groins pressed together. His coarse curls scraped her sensitive clit. He wrapped her in his arms, her face pressing against his chest, breathing in his masculine scent as he waited for her body to adjust to his size.
    A whoosh of elation raced through Emma. She felt as if her skin, her flesh, her bones were somehow joined with Keir’s.
    “Can you feel it, too?” she asked.
    “Yes,” he said. “I can feel it.” He smoothed her sweat dampened hair away from her face. “Be my mate, Emma Watson. Let me love you until death.”
    Tears leaked from Emma’s eyes as overwhelming joy stole her breath, quickened her heart, and dissolved any doubt. “Yes,” she said. “I’m yours.”
    He began to move then, thrusting slowly at first. It still hurt a little, but with the pain came pleasure. She clawed at Keir’s back, urging him to move faster, thrust harder.
    Keir’s hips pistoned between her thighs, his grunts and growls ignited Emma’s passions as she locked her ankles behind his knees. She moved as he moved, as the growing heat at her groin and stomach blossomed, rapture threatening to devastate her senses.
    “Keir,” she moaned. “Keir, Keir.”
    He gripped her tighter as he made inarticulate noises.
    “I…I…” He varied his stroke, and