Page 18 of The Blood Witch

Alastair’s teeth scraped against her lips before he pulled back. His hand left her hair and gripped her wrists, still bound, forcing them above her head and pinning her to the desk. When he straightened, Fey felt the loss of him pressed against her like an ache. With a dark chuckle, he dragged his free hand down her body, feeling her over her clothes.

Fey arched off the desk, needing that touch, craving it. His fingers were like fire on her skin, and she was burning from it. He stared hungrily down at her as his fingers paused at the waist of her pants.

“You still want to pretend you don’t belong to me, Witchling?” he asked, slipping his fingers under her clothing and sliding them over her center. Fey bowed off the desk, gasping, as his fingertips teased her. “You and I both know that’s a lie. Tell me who you belong to, Fey.”

Fuck, he knew exactly how to touch her. Fey moaned, head rolling as his fingers worked, bringing her closer and closer to the edge.

“Tell me,” he repeated. When she didn’t answer, he paused, then pushed his fingers inside her, curling them until she cried out, loud enough to be heard through the thick wooden door of his office.

His fingers worked inside her as the palm of his hand settled against her,rubbing her. Fey’s breath was coming in ragged pants, and she locked eyes with Alastair above her.

Dark hunger swirled in his eyes as he focused on her pleasure.Good. That meant he was distracted.

Fey summoned a gust of air with barely a flick of her fingers, and though it was nothing compared to what she could do if her hands were free, it caught him off guard. He grunted in shock as a blast of wind hit his shoulder, pushing him off her and away for a moment.

“I don’t belong to you or anyone, Alastair,” she teased with a grin.

His eyes shuttered, something dark and dangerous rising in his gaze.

Uh oh.

Fey had no time to react before he was on her, and she found herself flipped over onto her stomach on the desk. Alastair pulled her pants down roughly and brought the palm of his hand down on her ass with a smack.

Fey yelped, half in pain and half in shock.

“Do you like that?” he asked, roughly, his hand rubbing against the mark he’d made on her skin. She groaned, but it turned into another yelp as he slapped her again, the sound ringing across his office.

“Alastair—” she started, but his fingers slipped insider her again and she broke off, all words forgotten.

“Fuck, I love seeing you like this,” he told her, voice guttural. “So wet and needy for me. Practically dripping down my hand. You love this don’t you, Witchling?”

She was close. Fey’s fingernails dug into the wood of the desk as she pushed back against his hand. Her back arched and her hips rolled as she lost herself in the sensation, chasing her climax.

And just like that, it was gone. Alastair pulled his fingers from her without warning. She heard the telltale rustle of fabric as he undressed behind her. Her pussy clenched, mourning the loss of those skilled fingers, but before she could complain, she felt him shift to stand directly behind her. His hands gripped her hips, holding her tight.

“Oh no you don’t,” he told her. “You don’t come until I tell you to.”

His cock pushed against her entrance, and she writhed in his grip, wanting to push back, wanting to take him.

“Will you come for me?” he asked, pushing the head of his cock against her, teasing her with it.

Fey whimpered, desperately clawing at the desk.

“Answer me,” he snapped. He slapped an open palm against her again and gripped her tighter, his fingers digging into her flesh. “Will you come for me, Fey?”

Fey couldn’t push herself closer to him, not while he held her so tight. She groaned, struggling helplessly in his grasp.

“Yes!” she gasped, trying and failing to push against him. She’d say anything, anything he wanted to finish what they’d started. Anything to feel that touch again.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured as he thrust inside her.

Fey screamed as he filled her, stretching her. It didn’t seem to matter how often they did this, how often or how hard they fucked, it was still a shock to her body to accommodate him.

Stars exploded in her vision as he pulled out and thrust back into her, hard enough the desk jolted forward.

His hand moved up the curve of her ass as he moved inside of her, coming to rest on the small of her back. He pushed, gently, with his palm.

“Arch your back for me, Witchling.”

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