Page 94 of Every Shade of Shadow

"That's it," he rasps, fingers digging into my hips. "Take everything I'm giving you, witchling."

He drives into me with force now, our flesh coming together with a lewd slapping sound each time he crashes against my ass. His balls swing against my pussy like battering ram, their weight becoming more obvious with each stroke. But there's no pain. There’s not even a hint of discomfort or burn now. There’s just bliss. The bliss of having his entire shaft where no one has ever been before.

He's done it—claimed every hole I have.

I rock back to meet his thrusts, chasing the implosion of sensation that remains out of reach.

And still Cassandra is locked there in the corner, eyes wide and glassy.

"Please," I sob, so close to tumbling over the edge. "Professor, I need..."

He wraps an arm around my waist and presses deeper. "You may come only when I allow it."

My thighs twitch, the sensation too much.

“Please,” I beg again.

“No.”

Oh, God. I can’t hold back.

He fucks me harder, the entire length of his cock buried deep into my ass.

“Please,” I whimper, tears in my eyes, my legs shaking.

“Now,” he says.

His command undoes me. I shatter around him, light and sensation exploding through my body. He follows soon after with a guttural groan, warmth flooding the depths of my ass as he rams forward and kicks me hard against the table.

He falls on my back, panting for breath.

A profound lassitude seeps into my bones, my mind blissfully empty of everything except the feel of him behind and inside me. Even poor Cassandra is forgotten.

His cock slides free, the weight of it slapping wetly against his leg.

I come back to myself slowly, awareness returning in fragments. The earthy scent of the garden. Mist clinging to my skin. The Professor's arm draped over my waist, his chest rising and falling against my back.

A flush creeps over my face as the memory of what just happened filters through my mind. I can't believe I let him do that. Take me in such a primal, intimate way. And yet...a secret part of me thrills at how far we've come, hungering for more.

As if sensing my thoughts, Darkwood stirs behind me. His hand slides down to cup the mound between my legs, fingers probing the entrance to my sex. I gasp, torn between mortification and longing.

"You took everything I gave you," he rasps in my ear. "And still crave more?"

He turns. “Did you hear that, Cassandra? Our little lamb wants more.”

There’s no reply.

I know I should refuse him, put an end to this madness, because that’s what it is, but I can't seem to form the words. All I can do is spread my thighs in silent invitation.

He chuckles, a dark and dangerous sound. "What a greedy little witchling you are. Wait here. Do not move.”

I hear him pad away, a tap running. Is he cleaning himself? Rehydrating? But I dare not move.

He paces back, footfalls soft.

He flips me over and in one swift movement he's pushed us towards the garden, falling on top of me, pinning me to the dirt. I cry out at the sudden intrusion, still sensitive from our earlier joining. But the discomfort quickly fades, replaced by a deep throb of need.

"Please," I whimper, rocking my hips up to meet his. I'm shocked at my own wantonness, but I can't help it. I need this, need him. "Take me again."

---