Page 61 of Witch’s Ruin

He pressed two fingers inside me, once, twice, a low growl building at the wetness he found. I cried out, core clenching tight. His free hand fussed with the ties of his pants until his cock sprang free. He wrapped one hand around the back of my neck, possessive, while the other guided the head of his thick length up and down my opening, spreading my wetness. I tried to angle my hips upward, desperate to feel the crown of him at my clit. He tutted, the sound scolding. With a single thrust, he buried himself.

I cried out, from pain, from pleasure, from surprise.

His skin smacked against mine, our mouths clashing. Each breath from my chest was a desperate drag. But he gave me exactly what he promised. He fucked me, each stroke relentless, each stroke tightening my core. I trembled against him.

“Well, Mina? Am I not a man of my word?” he demanded, voice rough.

“Y-yes,” I managed, breathless.

“Look at it, Lady Witch,” he demanded. “Look at Corinna, the world at your feet.”

Gasping at the feel of his cock, stroking against the deepest parts of me, I turned my head slightly. There it was, the mass of buildings, people going about their day, oblivious to the sight far, far above. The sight of their prince fucking his lady witch.

A low, needy moan built in my chest—

“Yes, you like that don’t you, little witch? You like what only I can give you—say it.”

“Yes. On-only you—”

A loud gasp punctuated our erratic breathing. I tightened up, eyes darting behind Rixon’s shoulder. Trudy Holland stood in the doorway.

“Rixon,” I gasped.

His thrusts continued, speeding up, turning frenzied, almost painful. But his head turned just a fraction, enough to catch sight of his betrothed. A low chuckle built in his chest. He faced forward again, eyes finding mine.

His expression said everything.

He didn’t care that she was watching us with wide eyes, mouth hanging open, hand clutched on the doorframe. And…neither did I. I didn’t care that she saw my inner demon, laid bare on the surface of my skin. Didn’t care about anything but the ache between my legs.

Rixon’s hips retreated, then slammed back into me, pelvic bone grinding against my clit. I blinked, crying out, my voice pleasure-drenched. Uncontrollable shivers spreading across my skin. Together, we raced toward the promise dangling just out of reach. Inside me, the dark presence surged to the surface, bearing an intense sense of freedom. Wings spread wide, it soared through me. I cried out, gasping, as my body clenched up.

I combusted.

Rixon watched my orgasm, eyes fixed on my face in fascination. “Yes, Lady Witch. Give it to me,” he bit out the words through clenched teeth. “Every fucking drop. Milk me. Take it all.” Little beads of sweat prickled his temples. He threw his head back and roared my name, neck muscles bulging. I clung to him, spasms still wracking my body, the rest of the world forgotten. It didn’t matter that it was spread beneath my feet. The only thing that mattered was the man between my legs. The cock buried inside me.

When my breathing steadied, I came back to myself. I looked behind us, towards the doorway. It was empty. I could almost convince myself I’d imagined it. But no, she’d been there—Rixon’s betrothed. Something surged, something that had been festering for days. Poisonous thoughts I’d been ignoring, breaking free of captivity. Perhaps I should have felt fear, or even worry. But no, all I felt in that moment was a vindictive sense of satisfaction.

Chapter 20

Rixon

Rixon couldn’t decide where to look first. The council chamber had been transformed. He clenched his jaw, keeping his feet planted. “Ahh, he’s here!” A nasally male voice said, clapping twice. “Everyone, positions! His Highness has arrived so we may begin.”

Lady Holland strode over and took up a position by his side. He barely noticed her. Instead, he took stock of his surroundings.

Bolts of fabric lined the far wall—tablecloth choices. A table in the center of the room groaned beneath the weight of nearly twenty flower arrangements. The burst of color was sickening. Another table had party favors. And another, different invitation options. There was also a table against the wall with centerpieces. Even enticing aromas of cooked food, laid out on a wide table overlooked by the kitchen staff, permeated the air with their dinner selections.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” Trudy hissed beside him, face flushed. From anger? Embarrassment? Did he really care which?

It was true, he’d been quite late. She knew why. She’d come to find him when he’d gone searching for Mina. Instead of coming straight here, as he was supposed to do, he’d made his priorities too clear.

“Well, I’m here now,” he drawled, shrugging. “Let’s get this over with.” Without waiting for her answer, he strode to the first table. Invitations. They were spread out to show off intricately scrolling fonts and foil.

The calligrapher stood behind the table, hands clasped, proud. “Hello, Your Highness. Here we have an—”

“That one,” he said, pointing to one, without having looked at any.

“Oh, but of course, Your Highness. That one highlights the use of florals—”