Page 113 of Court of Evil

“Take her hand, fool,” he tells Ronan. “I won’t last long in her cunt. She feels so good.”

Ronan disappears, but I feel him behind me, and then a hand grips my neck, turning my head, and invisible lips meet mine. My eyes widen as I clench around Shamus, but I hand myself over to him even though I can’t see him, and big hands cup my breasts from behind, tweaking my nipples. Shamus rubs my clit until I cry out into Ronan’s mouth.

Groaning, Ronan pulls away, and I search for him as he pushes me forward so I’m lying across Shamus, who stops moving. I still can’t see Ronan, but I feel him. His cock presses against my pussy, knocking into Shamus’s. Neither of them seems to care, and I jerk with a cry as he pushes into me, filling me alongside Shamus, forcing my pussy to stretch so wide it hurts. I bite Shamus’s chest in punishment, and he grunts and jerks inside me, and then Ronan moves, pulling from my body and pushing back as he and Shamus find a rhythm. They pin me between them as they use me—one in, one out—filling my pussy over and over. Ronan’s hand is on my neck, pinning me, and Shamus’s are on my hips, my teeth digging into his chest.

“Shit, she feels good like this.” Ronan’s voice fills my ear, and I shudder. “You should see her, all stretched around us. It’s fucking incredible.”

“I can feel it,” Shamus growls. “She’s dripping for us. You like it, don’t you, angel? Like us sharing you?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He’s not wrong, and his words go straight to my already throbbing body, pleasure coursing through every inch of me as they surround me. Their cocks build my pleasure until I can’t handle it anymore.

I shatter, screaming into Shamus’s skin.

My cunt clenches on them, and Shamus groans, burying deep inside me. I feel his release filling me. Ronan huffs into my skin, biting the nape of my neck as he hammers into me before stilling as he follows us into ecstasy.

The pleasure continues to flow through me, making me twitch between them, and when it finally lets me go, I slump into Shamus, covered in sweat and cum but oh so fucking satisfied.

I guess you should mix business with pleasure, especially if it’s at the hands of your dangerous commander and his mischievous ghost.

CHAPTER 47

“Are you sure about this?” I ask Tate as she sits on the floor of the room we claimed. The others are scattered around, watching curiously. She came back this morning, smelling of sex and magic, and explained about her heritage. It doesn’t shock me, since she has always felt like old magic to me, but this could go wrong, and I would hate for her to grow frustrated with her powers.

“Magic has a way of disrupting other magical gifts, and you are still learning?—”

“‘I’m sure. I need to learn to harness these skills, and the best way is to practice. I don’t go up against humans all the time, so I need to test them on as many supernaturals as possible.”

“Luckily for you, you have a whole buffet to choose from,” Ronan calls with a laugh.

Ignoring them, she places her hands above mine. “I’m sure.”

I nod and wait. I feel her push, and then her mind brushes across mine, soft at first before it grows more confident. I keep my door open, something we learn when we are younger. If it’s shut, no magic can enter my mind and use me like a puppet. Every powerful warlock knows this skill, but it’s strange to open up to another.

I let her inside, and her vision fills my head. It’s blurry but grows more detailed. “Again,” I tell her as she lets go.

She practices a few more times until they grow clear, as if they are happening before me. “Good,” I praise happily.

I let her vision wash through me for a moment, and she grins victoriously, but then I twist the vision, morphing it, and shove it back at her. She shudders, her eyes widen, and her smile drops. Her vision changed from her dying my hair to her on her back below me.

“Don’t give up. Keep going. Using magic on another is like fencing. You must always be willing to fight back. Give and take,” I say, and her vision changes to me on my back with her looking down at me.

We volley back and forth like this, changing the other’s vision and shoving it back. I see her growing tired. Magic is draining, even for an older practitioner like me, but her strength is astonishing. Usually, new users cannot even last one round, never mind this many.

She truly is a creature of beauty and strength.

She is a warrior through and through.

Even now, she grits her teeth, fighting that weakness.

“You need to rest?—”

“I don’t have time to rest. I need to practice,” she mutters, clearly annoyed. “Stupid human body.”

“We have ways around that,” the fae says, and we both look at him. “A boost, if you will. You have us all here, so use our blood, magic, and power. Take it from us and fuel yourself. If it works, you can do it in battle as well.”

“How?” she asks.

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