Page 49 of Every Shade of Shadow

The girl is gone, replaced by something cold and sinister.

Shadows.

They slither across the floor and work their way up my thighs, icy tendrils that caress my clitoris and labia, seeking inside my sex and carving out newfound pleasure there.

More join the first, teasing my folds apart. A wintery touch brushes my clit and I gasp, hips jerking forward. The sensation retreats, then returns to trace slow, deliberate circles around the hungry mouth of my sex.

I whimper, my legs trembling.

My inner folds are spread open, bared to this merciless stroking. A shadow thrusts inside me, cold and slick, and begins a relentless thrusting.

“No,” I stammer, but there’s no stopping it. This isn’t how I want to be taken. Not by a fucking shadow. It has to be a man, a human. It has to be him.

I know I’m still intact, but yet this thing, this ghoulish presence, is physical, drawing in and easing out, stretching my entrance over and over, baiting me.

I wonder if he can feel it, if Darkwood’s connection to the shadows runs this deep. Can he feel how wet I am? Can he feel the corrugations of my cunt pulsing to greet him?

My first climax left me sensitive, primed for more, and this shadowy claiming pushes me swiftly toward the edge again. The thrusts turn hard and punishing, passing ghost-like through my innocence into my depths, while icy pressure circles and flicks my clit.

I shiver, look down, but there’s nothing there.

I'm writhing, incoherent pleas spilling from my lips as I'm brutally, exquisitely fucked.

“I can’t,” I whimper, a solitary tear carving its way down my cheek. “I can’t,” I repeat.

“You can and you will,” he says, leisurely stroking his cock in front of me.

That does it.

I can't hold back any longer.

The coil snaps. A climax crashes over me, obliterating thought and shattering my world into fragments of ecstatic bliss. I come apart, only to be remade in the fires of forbidden pleasure.

Release crashes over me in a dark wave, robbing me of breath and thought, my body seized by violent throes.

I collapse onto my knees on the floor, the stone below glossy and slick with my need.

I quiver there, shaking uncontrollably, but something has changed.

That tendril inside me, so dim before, is more prevalent now. It has worked itself deeper.

Through the haze I realize I'm no longer alone in my mind. A cold, sinister presence has awakened and entwined itself there.

There’s no question.

I come back to myself slowly, still trembling in the aftermath of the orgasm. My limbs are liquid and boneless, my mind pleasantly blank.

How did a mere spell do this to me? I wonder. And what the hell kind of spell was it?

I’ve certainly never seen anything like it in Gran’s grimoire or books, never heard her mention sexual magic at all.

But would she? I question.

Magic has limits, or so I believed. But Darkwood wields power beyond anything I've known. I’m starting to believe if you stripped that skin from his body there would be nothing but shadow underneath—pure, unfiltered evil.

The Wolf.

Darkwood steps forward and observes me.

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