Page 75 of Waltzing With Witches

My jaw locks up, my fangs clamping around air as she sucks my mind out through the head of my cock.

Immediately, the countertop breaks apart and reforms into cuffs around my wrists. My instinct rails against Ben’s intrusion, but the pleasure Morgan wrings from me with her mouth has me at the end of my rope.

And then there’s nothing. I cry out and thrust my hips, jerking into the air.

My devious mate chuckles and swipes at her mouth. “We had a plan for this afternoon. I’m thinking now’s a good time to make good on your promise.”

My cock bobs between us, strings of precum dripping steadily down my length as my chest heaves. I jerk against the stone cuffs holding me to the counter, but Ben lets out a warning groan.

Grinning, Morgan steps backward and spins in place, bending over to pull her jeans off long, muscular legs. I groan when I get a hint of shaved pink pussy. She’s bled through her tampon, streaks of heady menstrual blood dripping down her thighs.

“Morgan!” I bark out her name as she hops onto the opposite countertop and brings one foot flat on top of the counter.

“I’ll be honest,” she murmurs, “the idea of fucking around with menstrual blood freaks me out a little bit, but the look on your face is worth it.”

“Let me out!” I shout at Ben.

“Do nothing of the sort, Ben,” Morgan commands. Not moving her gaze from mine, she reaches down and tugs quickly on her tampon. It slips out of her pussy, blood dripping down her hands and to the floor. “Ben, the trash please,” she directs. A door swings open under the sink, and the trash can pops out. She tosses the bloody tampon into the garbage as a needy whine leaves my lips.

“Nooo,” I cry out. “Morgan.”

“I can’t fuck with tampon sex, like, if you were gonna suck on that tampon like a lollipop or something?” She shudders. “Even I have my limits.”

I yank against Ben’s hold on me. “Tampon lollipops are a hard pass, got it. Come here.”

“Not just yet,” she croons, slipping her bloody hand between her thighs to rub slow, soft circles over her clit.

A rush of heat sears through me, my cock jumping between my thighs as I yank against the rock cuffs again. “Let me out!” I shout. Ben ignores me as Morgan plays with her clit, her hips beginning to move softly to meet her touch.

“I did this so many times and thought of you,” she murmurs, her touch growing more insistent. “You don’t know how many times I came with your name on my lips.”

I roar in frustration, straining to get to her, to answer the call of her blood.

“I want you to chase me,” she says, sliding off the counter with a grin. “And if you catch me, I’ll fuck you until you lose your mind.” She pats the countertop behind her. “Ben, give me ten seconds or so, okay?”

When she takes off around the corner, blood dripping onto the floor as she goes, I roar over and over into the quiet kitchen, straining and yanking and pulling against Ben’s hold. Possession and fury and thirst all rise up, spinning around inside me until every sense narrows on the trail of blood leading me to her.

My witch.

My mate.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

MORGAN

When the house goes silent, I know Ben has released Abe. Being hunted adds tension to the anticipation. Abe is far faster than me. The only chance I have is to surprise him. I sneak into his office, shutting the door quietly behind me as I snake along the wall toward the fireplace. This is where I want our first time to happen, in this beautiful space.

A clock chimes across the room, the sudden noise making me jolt in place. I slip into the dark corners of the bookcase, thankful for blackout curtains that make this room so dark.

It’s not until I hear a low, satisfied-sounding chuckle that I realize the game was over before it began. I look up and let out a terrified squeak, freezing in place. Abe is crouched upside down on the ceiling, watching my every movement, his body a blur of shadow against the dark wood.

“You lost,” he purrs, dropping to the floor in a move so smooth, so impossibly easy, I can't fathom it. He hits the ground in a kneeling position and rises, crossing the room to his desk. His eyes are pitch-black; the red iris gone. When he sits down in his big office chair with a haughty look, my competitiveness rears her ugly head.

“Come here, mate,” he commands, patting his knee.

“I don’t think so,” I reply in a sugary-sweet tone, feeling my way along the wall for the door. If I can get close enough, I can dash out and get Ben to lock him in here for another minute.

“Do not even think about running out that door.” There’s a faint whoosh, and then a shadowy figure grabs and flips me, yanking my arms above my head. Abe pins my wrists to the wall with one hand, the other running up the back of my head. He pulls gently, baring my neck. Fangs come to my skin and press hard, hard enough that, despite a shock of pleasure that swirls through me, unease follows it.

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