Page 18 of Witch’s Ruin

Which, of course, made me wonder how they reproduced.

Rixon shifted against me. The hard length of him rested against my hip. I pressed my nose against his warm chest, smiling to myself, then slid hungry fingers along his skin. He came awake with a start. Rixon wasn’t a heavy sleeper, but when we were together, protected by warded doors and Nebrine walls, he let his guard slip.

I grabbed his hardened shaft, thick and rigid, and gave it a firm stroke. He groaned, pulling me tighter against him, dragging me up until our lips met. I worked him, nice and tight the way he liked. “Fuck,” he mumbled against my skin.

Last night, we’d stayed out until the wee hours of the morning. Both of us too exhausted for much else beyond sleep, shedding our clothes and tumbling into bed. There’d been no further demon sightings after the Xastors. The pressure in my chest was constant, but it hadn’t hitched the way it did when they were close.

I pumped Rixon again. At the top of my stroke, I swirled my thumb over the head of his cock, already beading with pearly liquid. I spread it around and he groaned again. “Put your hands on the headboard, Lord Wielder. You are not to touch me this time.”

“Mina—” His voice was sleep roughened.

“Hand’s above your head,” I commanded. He released me at once. His palms went flush to the headboard. I let my eyes linger on his arms, the way his muscles strained and bulged with restraint, forearms covered in thickened veins. He tested the bond, pulled against it.

A deep, rough chuckle rumbled from his chest. “My little witch wants to play? All right, put those pretty lips around my cock and play. Suck me good. I want to come in your mouth.”

My stomach swooped. I blinked, then tried to reorder my thoughts. “You aren’t in a position to make demands,” I managed, recovering from the delicious desire licking through me.

“Let me see your eyes,” he hissed, when I gave his cock a stroke that was near painful. “I want them black—black for me, Mina.”

The order swept through me. He might hold the bond, he might not possess its power as I did, but gods, he had a way of controlling me. There was something about the authority in his voice that made me desperate to fall on my knees, to behave like a good girl, and grant his every wish.

I felt the demonic thing twisting inside me. It surged to the surface, rising to the occasion. Sensual claws scraped down my spine, made me shiver. I moved, settling between Rixon’s corded legs, lowering onto my thighs, bringing my mouth to him.

His chest rose and fell. I sucked him harder and he swore. With each stroke of my mouth, of my tongue, his low growls dictated my movement. It didn’t take long—it never did—before his cock hardened beyond belief. I felt his body tighten while I played with him. He was close—so close. His hips gave a final thrust. A garbled sentence fell from his mouth. Something about how fucking beautiful I was, or some sort.

Salty male essence spurted into my mouth.

I swallowed him down, every last drop, using my tongue to lick him clean. I didn’t release him until I was completely satisfied with my thoroughness. Then I discarded my leash.

Hands free, he flipped our positions, his movements fast and practiced. “How does it feel when the tables are turned?” he purred, parting my thighs, settling between them. “Hmm, little witch? How does it feel to be at my mercy?”

I groaned, falling prey to the press of his body, to the feel of his erection probing my wet folds. “What makes you certain the tables have turned, Lord Wielder?” My voice pitched low, not quite my own. A mixture of new and old, reflecting the thing that lived inside me. A darkness I still couldn’t explain.

“Oh, they’ve turned,” he affirmed. He grabbed my wrists, holding them above my head. I struggled against him, albeit half-hearted. He would always outmatch me in strength; I was completely helpless against this male. Herrin’s immaculate training, my abilities to wield a blade and use my fists to defend myself, slipped away.

My core clenched, needy. “I am entirely at your mercy,” I rasped. “What will you do to me?”

“Wicked, wicked things.” Already he was at my entrance, the head of him pressing but not entering. Then his mouth found mine and claimed it, tongue lashing against my own. I was slick and desperate. With his free hand, he ran the head of his cock over my folds, up and back, up and back. My thighs began to tremble. Each time he hit the bundle of nerves at my apex, I tightened, groaning, willing my body to orgasm.

“You see how my cock makes you, little witch?” he asked. “You see how desperate? How needy?”

“Mmm!”

“That’s how you make me feel, just looking at you.”

A gasp fell from my lips. He released himself and twisted his free hand into my hair, claiming my mouth again. I was so tight, so eager for release; my body quivered with suppressed need.

He took me with a single thrust. The power of his hips left me gasping. I groaned, drowning beneath the sensation of him, clenching tight.

“Oh no, little hellion. Relax that cunt. I don’t want you coming anytime soon.” I gave a mew of protest, nearly sobbing with frustration, garbled words. “I said, relax it,” he commanded. The hand around my wrists tightened, sending a spear of pain along my arms.

I cried out—shocked.

Rixon froze. His face changed in an instant, softening, like he was about to release me—

“No,” I hissed. “Don’t stop. Do it again.”

I liked it. I didn’t want him afraid. I didn’t want him cautious.