Page 19 of The Blood Witch

She did unquestioningly, eager to have more of him inside of her. The sensation immediately changed as her body arched, the tip of his cock hitting somewhere new inside of her and making her gasp.

Alastair swore, his hands gripping on her hips. “Fuck yes, just like that.”

Her legs were shaking, and her body quivered underneath him.

“That’s right, Witchling,” he groaned, as though reading her mind. “You’re so close, aren’t you? Come for me. Be a good girl and come on my cock.”

He thrust into her again and again, and she couldn’t take it anymore. With one last scream she lost herself, body shuddering as she reached her peak and exploded, the world disappearing under a wave of pleasure.

“Fuck, Fey,” Alastair groaned behind her, “I can’t?—”

He moaned and shuddered, burying himself deep inside her as he joined her in his release.

Fey gasped as they finished, her body collapsing fully onto the desk, her muscles exhausted. Her heart was beating so hard she thought she might pass out.

“You okay, Witchling?” Alastair asked, panting as he fought to catch his breath. He leaned over her, planting a kiss gently between her shoulder blades, and reached for the tie around her wrists. His fingers tugged the knots free, pulling the fabric loose.

She nodded, cheek pressed flat against the desk.

“You’re sure?” he prodded with a chuckle. She groaned as he pulled out of her, the noise turning to a whimper a second later as she felt something soft and silk between her legs, cleaning her. His tie, she realized.

“I’m sure,” she said, her words coming out in gasps. “But… I’m not sure I can move my legs.”

Her legs trembled from supporting herself on the tips of her toes against the desk. Alastair laughed, and suddenly she was being lifted into his arms and tucked tight against his body.

Fey breathed in his scent and eagerly nuzzled against him. He carried her to his desk chair, seating himself and settling her on his lap until she rested comfortably against his chest.

“That wasn’t too rough, was it?” he asked.

“Goddess no,” Fey laughed. “Though… I may have a bruise in the shape of your hand on my ass for a few days.”

“Good,” Alastair said, peppering her cheek with gentle kisses. “I want you remembering this every time you try to sit down.”

Letting out a contented sigh, she cuddled closer to him, wanting to feel as much of his skin against hers as possible. She loved this. Not just the sex, but the aftermath. Alastair could never seem to stop touching her, after. Like he couldn’t get enough of her.

His hands caressed her, moving gently over her body. When they reached her wrists, Alastair paused, fingers skimming over the damaged and bloody skin of her knuckles.

“What happened today?” he asked, raising her fingers to his lips and kissing thewounds there.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, too exhausted and content to go into it.

Alastair’s jaw clenched, and he gripped her hand hard enough to hurt.

“Oh no, Witchling,” he told her in a dark voice. “You don’t run from me. Not ever. Tell me what happened.”

Fey sucked in a breath. He loosened his grip on her but didn’t let her go.

“I… lost control,” she admitted.

“Lost control?” he repeated in a tactfully neutral voice. “And what does that mean, you ‘lost control’?”

“Well,” she demurred, running her hands over his bare chest, feeling the hard muscle under his skin. “Today that meant I nearly burned down Regina’s Bakery…”

Alastair chuckled. “Oh, I bet she loved that.”

“It wasn’t her fault,” Fey told him. “Wasn’t my fault either, not really. But…” Her jaw tightened. “There was a Witch. Two Witches. They called mequeen, and…” She paused. “I lost control. Only for a moment, but that was enough.”

Alastair waited patiently for her to continue.

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