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“I know what you need, master, I know what it is that tangles you so.” I practically sing the words I speak them so beguilingly, and I’m pleased with myself when I see him at odds with his needs, his anger waylaid by a greater emotion.
“You need a ride of my cunny to soothe your temper. “You need to spill your seed inside me to claim what is yours.”
He does not answer me, but I see him clench his jaw.
“I’m wet between my legs now, wet because I want to please you.” I shove my hand down there, spreading my nether lips so that he can see. That makes me buck against the ground, for the wanton in me loves to act this way. The cold air rushes over my bare flesh and I gasp aloud, my hips moving and lifting. I rub my fingers over the stiff bud of my womanhood, offering my lusty hole to him.
When I look down at his belt I see that he is large within the confines of his breeches, his shaft long and hard and poking through the material demandingly.
I run one finger in and out of my hole, nodding at his cock. “Spend your seed here, where it will be gratefully received, master of Carbrey.”
He curses me even while he fumbles with his breeches and frees his member. It is stiff and large and dark with blood, and I lift my hips to receive it. He climbs between my legs, shoving my knees farther apart forcibly, muttering bitter words beneath his breath. While he rubs his fist back and forth over his manhood he stares down at me, and the head of his member grows darker still and juice oozes from its tip.
“Spread yourself wider, wench. Offer yourself to me again!”
A breathy laugh escapes my mouth as I lift my boots from the ground, my hands wrapped around the undersides of my thighs, and thrust my heels high in the air, opening myself wide, exposing everything to him, an invitation I know he cannot resist.
Climbing over me, he thrusts into me with all his might, claiming me. His manhood is so large I gasp when it stretches me to accommodate his fierce entry. He pins me down with his hands on my shoulders, throws his head back and roars aloud as he grinds into me, his hips working back and forth, back and forth, until I feel my own juices running down my bottom and onto the ground.
On my back, I have him.
From the ground where he threw me, I can make him do as I want. I cry out with joy, wild beneath him as he is riding me.
His sack bangs hard at my rear and I know he will not last long, but oh it is so good and my cunny squeezes every ounce of pleasure from him, until I wail with pleasure, my spending so thorough that I laugh aloud in my moment of release.
I want to test him, see how far I can control him, and I grasp his coat, tug on it. “You know that I only toy with other men to test my powers.”
I swallow hard, denying the unbidden emotions that crowd in on me in that moment, the image of a strong young fisherman who plagues my thoughts and dreams, and I press on, denying it even to myself. “It is you and only you that I want plowing my furrow. It is you who makes me writhe with ecstasy.”
As he ruts me vigorously, closing on his release, I cry aloud. A dark thrill has bedded inside me. I could roll away from him now, force him to spill his seed on the ground, and he would still want more of me.
I can control the coven master if I so wish.
Can you guess how good that feels?
Can you truly guess how good that feels, Zoë?
18
GRAYSON TRIED ONCE MORE TO CAJOLE THE landlord, who currently had him standing at the bottom of the steps outside the front of the pub, following Cain’s complaint about his conduct. “Tom, it was a minor disagreement. You know me well enough by now, surely?”
“I do, and I’m sorry. I don’t know what your grief with Cain is, but he is a big employer around these parts and he’s brought a lot of business to this village. I’m grateful for that because we get the overflow when his place is full.” As he spoke, Tom looked unsure, as if it didn’t sit right with him.
Gray was desperate to get back inside but arguing wasn’t the way to do it, so he held his hands up and backed off. “I understand. I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”
Tom nodded his thanks and then disappeared into the pub. Grayson managed to wait a whole two minutes before he edged back in, steering well clear of the bar, and headed through to the dance hall. Cain and Crawford and their other cronies were nowhere to be seen. He dodged through the crowd and scanned the room. Zoë was also nowhere to be found. She’d disappeared out the door at the back of the hall earlier and it didn’t look as if she had returned.
Where was she? He walked straight across the dance floor, dodging several dancers who blocked his way. In the lobby, he pushed the door to the ladies’ cloakroom open. It was empty. There was another door, and it was open to the outside.
The forest? Alone?
Unease ratcheted inside him, and he strode out the door and onto the path. It was dark, and he thanked the elements that the moon was almost full. He jogged along into the forest, senses on high alert. Zoë had definitely come this way—minutes before, if that—and she hadn’t been alone. His jaw tightened. That was even worse than being alone, if she was with any of Cain’s lot.
As the forest thickened, a wall of trees groaned and shifted and closed together in front of him. He slammed his hands up against the thick rough bark, just stopping himself before he ran smack dab into it. The surface was barbed, and he tore his hands away, pain needling under the skin.
A boundary spell.
Turning left, another wall of trees hammered him back.
