Page 5 of Outlaw Witch

I have no idea if all sense left my brain when I left the warehouse tonight or something, but all I feel toward this man isheat.A primal kind of attraction I haven’t felt before.

He has this raw kind of energy pulsing off him and instead of it repulsing me; I find myself drawn to it.

“How about I persuade you it was a right turn you took,” he growls, eyes darting between my eyes and my lips with obvious intent.

My answer is to surge upward and press my lips to his.

And fuck, if I thought he was magnetic before, kissing him is like pressing my lips against a live wire. Energy floods through me as he lets out a low groan, pressing my back hard against the brick.

Barely any time later, I’m being brought to orgasm in record time. I gasp and writhe against him, squeezing my hand against his hot, thick cock which is somehow still zipped in his pants.

I quickly rectify that, feeling his hot length against my palm as I pump up and down and he lets out a delicious groan.

“Fuuuck. Keep doing that and I’ll come in my pants.”

He doesn’t back up though, instead taking my lips again in another devouring kiss. I continue to pump my hand, squeezing around the hard length of him as he pushes a thick finger inside me.

“So damn wet. Fuck.”

We continue to get each other off frantically, like two teenagers that have just discovered the fun you can have with your pants down. Or two people that have temporarily lost their minds. It’s hot and senseless and a couple of minutes later, he’s letting out a pussy clenching groan as he comes all over my hand. I clench around his fingers as a second orgasm overtakes me.

We’re both panting, sticky messes when we finally break apart.

Like a spell is broken, he pulls away. The bear of a man then extracts his fingers and sucks my juices from them with another guttural groan.

“Fuck, I feel like a fucking teenager, jizzing all over myself.” He zips his pants up with a scowl. “Guess that’s the end of my night then,” he mutters.

I shoot him an uncertain smile as I yank up my own pants.

“Yeah, me too.” His release is still all over my hand and is cooling fast. My own panties are wet and I can’t wait to get out of them.

This is the awkward part. The post hook-up, post orgasm clean up and disengagement.

He doesn’t offer to walk me home or to get me back safely.

Not that I expect him to. It’s not like a quick mutual hand-job is the sign of superior manners on either of our parts.

“Well, good meeting you, doll.”

With that, he spins on his heel and heads through the back door of the club, leaving me alone in the alleyway. I then pick a direction and hurry off, hoping I’ll find my way home eventually.

It’s not until I’m most of the way home, I realize I never even reached the club. Never met up with my client. From the increasingly irritated texts coming through to my phone, I’m pretty sure standing him up is not something he’s going to forget in a hurry.

Damn sense of direction leading me astray.

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