“Take it,” I command my little witch. “Take this tail and show me how badly you need to come.”
“Please,” she murmurs, rocking her hips to take me in deeper, to increase the friction. “It feels so… so fucking good.”
Jude’s eyes find mine across the cold, concrete space. His cock is hard, his muscles twitching with the need to kill, the need to fuck, the need to spill one more drop of blood.
“Do it,” West grinds out. “Fucking do it.”
He drags the blade across the Alonzo’s throat. A dark, wet gash splits the skin. The mage chokes out his last breath, and Jude drops his lifeless corpse to the ground.
Westlyn gasps, a shudder wracking her body, but it’s not from horror or shock.
The scent of her need is making me dizzy.
I increase the pressure on her clit, rubbing harder, faster, shoving my tail deeper inside her as she writhes and moans, chasing that pure, white-hot wave that’s so damn close we can all taste it.
“You’re so wet, witchling. So hot for me.”
“Please. I can’t… I can’t take it. I need more,” she begs. “Everything inside me is burning for it.”
I release her hair and drag my hand down her spine, down to the soft curve of her ass, my fingers kneading her flesh.
“Here?” I say, squeezing hard. “Is this where you want me? Inside this tight little ass?”
Jude grabs a fistful of Jacob Pomeroy’s hair and hauls him up, his bloodied, toeless feet an inch off the ground.
“Yes,” West says, a moan and a whisper both, and I unfurl my tongue, licking a hot path across the scars on her lower back.
W, I mark with my tongue, followed by a straight lick for theI.
C, a gentle tease, and three long licks for theK.
E, sideways, down, over and back again.
D,a lick and a swirl and one more feather-soft kiss at the end of it all…
And then I shove my tongue in her ass.
“Holyfuck,” she gasps.
Jude watches us, his breath ragged, his eyes glazed with lust as I lick and suck and devour our hot little witch, my tongue so deep inside that tight little hole I can feel the ridges of my own tail as it fucks her slick pussy, harder, faster, my fingers circling her clit…
“Right there,” she breathes, a tremor rolling up her thighs. “Right there!”
Jude brings the blade to the mage’s throat. A quick, deep slice. A growl of vengeance. A spray of blood. The sound of a body dropped, a skull splitting open on a concrete floor.
“Yes!” my witchling cries out. “Goddess, yes!” She shudders around my tail and tongue and fingers, coming with a force that seems to ripple across the entire building, the tools clattering against the counter, the rusty chains moaning on their hooks, the whole of fucking New York City damn near falling down around us.
And all the while, my witchling keeps her gaze locked on Jude.
Minutes. Hours.
And then, when she finally stops quaking, when I finally pull out of her and help her back into her pants, when her heartbeat finally slows and I’m certain she’s back in her body, I stand up to my full height and look once more at my oldest friend, my gargoyle brother.
And a bolt of fear like nothing I’ve ever felt before shoots straight down the middle of my heart.
It’s not the manic look in his crazy, cobalt blue eyes.
It’s not the blade still clutched in his hand, slick with the blood of two shadow magic society mages.
