Page 108 of Bad Witch

“Do it,” I gasped out. Every dirty, sexy thing he was saying was making me hotter. “Please, do it.”

With another flash of teeth and a wild, beastly glint in his eyes, he slid down my body.

“What are yo—ahhh.” My hips lifted as his mouth closed over me.

Fender pleasured me with his tongue until I cried out a second time for him. It wasn’t until I lay shaking and sweating that he slid the length of the vibrator through my slickness, the same way he’d dragged his cock through my folds, and pressed it against my opening.

“Relax for me, beautiful,” he said roughly, then eased it inside, slow and steady. It wasn’t vibrating now, but it felt amazing just like that.

“Oh gods,” I groaned. Zaps of pleasure, like little aftershocks from my two previous orgasms, burst through me as he began to slide it in and out of my body.

My hand flew out and I gripped the forearm of his other arm, needing purchase. He thrust it faster, deeper, and I squirmed and whimpered and begged for more. Then, only then did he turn it on. The vibrations slid through me, and I locked my legs together with a desperate cry and came again, feeling the rush of warmth sliding through me, feeling so out of control, as if something wild had overtaken me, like it had Fender.

He made me come three times, and it wasn’t enough. I wanted him now. “Please, I want you.” I wanted his big body thrusting inside me, owning me, claiming me. That couldn’t be soft or sweet. A beast grabbed on tight, he snarled and plundered, he owned. No, a beast didn’t claim what was his gently, and I was his. I was and would only ever be his.

Fender cursed, but he didn’t question me, or doubt that I knew what I wanted. No, he slid the vibrator from me, tossed it aside and flipped me to my stomach. Gripping my hips in his big hands, he yanked me higher and dragged me back so I was where he wanted me. He leaned over me, and his canines grazed my shoulder. I shivered. “You’re gonna need to hold on, peaches,” he rasped.

I fisted the sheets, nerves and excitement blooming inside as the head of his cock slipped between my folds, like we’d done twice before, but this time, there was no resistance, not enough to stop him. He was a lot, maybe still too much, but I forced myself to relax, and wriggled my hips, trying to help. Leaning over me again, he yanked open the drawer and pulled out a small bottle. A squirting sound came next, then he eased out and slid slicked-up fingers inside me. I looked back over my shoulder and watched as he ran his glistening fingers along his thick length and tossed the bottle beside us.

“Let’s try this again,” he said, and his voice was deeper, rougher than before. His eyes were so bright a gold that they glowed in the shadowed room. “You need to let me in, peaches. Let your male in.”

Oh gods, I loved that he called himself mine.

When he slid back inside, I pushed back against him, and with the help of the slickness he’d added, he filled me much easier. I dropped to my elbows on a groan, pressing my head to the mattress, rocking my hips as he kept coming, filling me slowly, so agonizingly slow, until every thick, solid inch was encased by my slick heat, holding him tightly inside like I’d never ever let him go.

He trembled behind me as he slid one hand down my back. “You feel so good, Tempest. Fuck.”

I tried to speak, but only an incoherent sound came out.

“Okay, baby?” he asked.

Even though he was more beast than man right then, even though he was so hard that he felt like hot steel inside me and he vibrated from the need to thrust, he would stop if I asked him to. Even as wild as he was feeling, he would stop right now, if I said no. “Yes,” I said. “Please, I need you to move,” I gasped out.

The sound he made was more of a howling roar than growl, and it lifted goose bumps all over me. His fingers dug into my hips. The hold was so tight it was a mix of pleasure and pain, but I loved it. That hold made me feel desired even more than I knew was possible. I quivered as he pulled out, as I lost each, hot inch. Then we both made inhuman sounds as his fingers flexed against my flesh and slid all the way back in.

He covered me with his body once more, so that his front was plastered to my back, his head on the mattress beside mine, his mouth at my throat, my ear, kissing, sucking on my skin, while his arms stayed locked around my chest and stomach, utterly surrounding me—then he began to thrust.

His huge body engulfed mine completely as he moved, rocking into me, deep and wild. Growls rolled from him as he took me, as he held me almost immobile and claimed me in a way that made me breathless. I never wanted him to let me go. I wanted to stay curled up under him, surrounded by his body, filled by him as he made me feel more wanted, more desired than any female ever could have possibly felt.

The stretch and slide of him thrusting into me had my next orgasm building hard and fast. I was already sensitive, and when he nipped at my shoulder, thickening even more inside me, I cried out.

Bite me.

I wanted to feel his teeth in my flesh. I wanted his fangs to mark my skin.

It seemed an insane thing to crave, but I wanted it so badly that I couldn’t keep the thought to myself. “Bite me,” I panted. “Please, bite me.”

The sound he made was one of pure animal, and when he said my name, it was garbled as if he were talking around his beast’s fangs.

I was hovering on the precipice. For some reason, I needed this. His bite.

His teeth pressed against my skin, then sank deeper. I screamed, sharp pain shooting through me, but I didn’t want it to stop. The pain was exactly what I needed, and I came underneath him. The spasms wracking through me so intently I struggled to breathe.

Fender ground against me, and when he tried to slide out the next time, I was tugged with him, as if he were locked in place. He groaned and roared and growled behind me. That’s when I realized I was struggling to breathe because he was holding me so tightly. His cock pulsed heavily, and heat washed over my inner walls as he spilled his seed, filling me with it. He fell to the side, taking me with him, staying deep inside me—no, he was locked inside me.

He wrapped his arms around me and buried his face against my throat—and cursed.

“Fender?”