Page 21 of Witch Please

Sebastian pulled one of his cards out of his wallet, jotting down his cell phone on the back before passing it to her.

“The last we heard, Asher is on a trip in Key West studying Hemingway. Obviously flying to Florida is out of the question given how far along you are. But I can try to see what information I can find for you while you’re,out of commission,so to speak.”

Marley and her husband thanked us all, repeatedly. We hadn’t actually done much of anything other than offer to try and help track him down. But I guess when you think you’re at a dead-end, any potential lead feels like a life line.

“Sebastian Doyle—did you just volunteer to help a stranger?” Patrick took a long pull from his beer, never taking his eyes off his best friend. “My God, Doyle—Imogen really has rubbed off on you.”

“Suck it, you tosser.” Sebastian threw a stack of bills on the table, extending his hand to me, pulling me close “I can think of something I want to rub off on you—say goodbye to our friends quickly. I have plans for you.”

Chapter 16

“Little mouse,” the way she trembled when I whispered naughty things into her ear had become my most potent drug, “imagining how you looked in this has been torturing me all day.”

The corset couldn’t have been any more perfect for her. It offered her breasts as a feast for the eyes, highlighted her hourglass shape as the most luscious landscape for my fingertips to explore. She bit her lip, looking at me from beneath her eyelashes. Her stage makeup provided a smoldering appeal that was a dichotomy to her reserved nature, but was icing on the cake of this sinfully delicious package.

“Oh no, I seem to have left my new book at work.” There was a mocking tone in her voice, “I can recite it for you well enough though. You’re obsessed with me, you want to bend me over—”

I didn’t let her finish her sentence. I spun the pair of us around, her back to my front, and bent her over my bed.

“I want to bend you over, Geenie—and I am quite obsessed with you.” The globes of her rump teased me from beneath the silk of her thong. Those little kitten noises I’d become so fond of escaped her lips as my palm ran over her smooth skin. “I wonder how much you’d mock if we transported to a different era entirely.”

I’d been told that whenever I returned from a summer in England my British accent became more pronounced and faded as the semester progressed. For Imogen, if talking to her in the most foul ways in a high English accent is what twisted her kinks, I’d fly to London every weekend to ensure it stayed fresh and tripped from the tongue with ease.

“Your pussy glistens for me love.” I ran my fingers beneath her thong, watching her squirm, trying to force my fingers where she needed them most. “Maybe the modern romance books do in fact tickle your fancy.”

“Or maybe I just want your cock regardless of how, or by what means.”

Her cheeky, haughty tone rose my eyebrows in tandem with thickening the requested piece of my anatomy.

“Look who’s demanding things now.” The slap to her rump echoed off the exposed brick walls of my bedroom. “Give her a corset and suddenly she’s a courtesan.”

I took my time undoing the buttons on my shirt, before releasing my belt and pants, allowing them to drop with a noisy thud. Imogen rolled her hips, rubbing herself along the edge of my mattress, I assumed in reaction to the sound of me ripping open the condom wrapper. The subconscious dance of her body, anticipating and welcoming the pleasure that was about to commence.

What a delicious spread she made, bent as she was on my sheets. It was a shame we had to be up early to be on campus before festival goers arrived. A pornographic display of the myriad of ways I wanted her played behind my eyelids. It would take years to satisfy them all. Years. That warmed me in a way I hadn’t expected.

“Or maybe I now understand how women were breathless and heaving in a new way, and the thought of you ripping open those ribbons has me twisting with a whole other kind of need.”

She tickled me while simultaneously turning me inside out with desire. What a potent combination. What could I do other than oblige?

“You’ll be happy to know that the modern day corsets have easier means of escape.”

The corset ribbons tied in a bow at the end of the boning and nestled in the most beautiful pool of satin within the dimples of her rear. I took my time undoing it, splitting my focus between that, and divesting her of her thong. The moment the fabric loosened, and her ribcage expanded in its first deep breath of new air, I plunged into her. She writhed like an eel, her synapses overloading with pleasure. Feeling her flex and move pushing and pulling against me sent lightning bolts of delight skating across my skin and infusing every nerve ending with toe curling ecstasy.

In my years I’d had good sex, great sex even. Imogen existed on a separate plane of sexual satisfaction. It had been a mere three weeks, yet I’d never felt so fulfilled.

Her mind was the largest sex object she possessed. A few strokes along that big brain of hers and she would explode in the most glorious of ways. Engaging it, building her a fantasy, delivered us both into intense pleasure.

“Sebastian, don’t slow down now. I’m almost there.”

Her breathless plea broke through my musings. In all my years watching her from the sidelines could I ever hope to expose this delicious contradiction—quiet and reserved in her academic world, and passionately demanding in private. Knowing this secret—I don’t think I would ever not find her the most appealing elixir.

“You know when you demand I do something, it guarantees I’ll give you exactly the opposite, little mouse.”

I slowed my pace, gathering her luscious ass in my palms, opening her up for my perusal. I watched my cock plunder her, claiming her depths like a pirate on an undiscovered island. Her insides clung to me, wrapped me in warmth, pulled at me with each withdrawal, as if strength of will, could hold me inside.

Beneath me Imogen shuddered, the precursor to the final show.

“Sebastian,” her voice was horse as if she’d been screaming for hours, “please Sebastian.”

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