Page 107 of Bad Witch

He pressed his forehead to mine, panting harder. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

His gaze searched mine, and his eyes were the brightest of gold. “Temp, there’s…there’s something I need to tell you first.”

Whatever he was going to say, it was serious. The look in his penetrating gaze said it was important and my response to it would be important as well. Whatever he was about to say could have the power to stop us in our tracks. I could see it all there as he watched me. Somehow, I knew, if I let him say it, it would bring an end to this thing between us, and I’d have to walk away, not tomorrow, now.

I pressed my fingers to his lips and shook my head. “Later,” I rasped. “We’ll talk later. Right now, I just want to feel.”

“Temp—”

I pressed my body hard against his and pulled him down for another kiss, avoiding whatever it was he was going to say. As I hoped, his beast rumbled in his chest and pushed Fender past the walls of his control.

He lifted me then, hoisting me in the air, and strode down the short hall to his bedroom. Lowering me to the bed, he came down on top of me, his face a strained mask as he leaned over me. Reaching up, I held his face in my hands, smoothing my thumbs over his cheeks, and immediately, the edge lost some of its sharpness and only blazing heat remained.

“Trust me,” I said. “I know what I’m asking for, and I want it.”

With a husky growl, his mouth was on mine again, and he was tugging at my clothes, dragging them from my body with urgent, demanding hands. I tugged at his as well, yanking his shirt over his head and tossing it aside, running my hand over his hard, hot, muscled chest, over the dark hair before dipping lower and traveling over the corrugations of his rigid abdominal muscles.

Gods, he was perfection, so much more than I ever could have dreamed up. He was everything I would have wanted for myself if things were different. If I wasn’t who I was. If I hadn’t been the Matilda, if I was allowed to have a mate, I would have given the fates anything they asked for to make Fender mine.

I forced those thoughts from my mind and wrapped my arms tighter around Fender’s neck.

His mouth moved over my throat, kissing, licking, tasting as my fingers grazed the top of his jeans. I tugged the button open and slid down the zipper, then used my feet to shove them down.

Fender lifted to one bulging arm, and shoved off his pants the rest of the way. His prosthesis thudded to the floor with them. Then he hooked me under the arms and dragged me higher in the bed, his hands sliding over my body as if he were as greedy as me, as if he never wanted to forget the texture and warmth of my skin, either, as if he knew deep inside that this was the last time I would be with him.

He slid a hand along my waist, his fingers delving into my underwear and tugging them down. I helped him, shoving them the rest of the way, and hooked my legs around his thick waist.

“I want you so fucking bad,” he said, and the beast was in his voice. If I had any doubt that Fender was still coming out of his experience in Pan’s realm, that doubt vanished when he dragged the underside of his cock through my pussy, letting the head notch against my opening. He rolled his hips and hissed a desperate breath when there was too much resistance for him to go any deeper.

He jerked his hips back and replaced his cock with his fingers. Groaning, I spread my legs wider when he slipped two fingers inside me. “Need to stretch this tight little pussy first.” He groaned. “Gonna make you come for me, peaches, get you so slick that I slide right in.”

His fingers were thrusting inside me, the friction so good I couldn’t speak. My hips moved against his hand all on their own, finding a rhythm I knew instinctively. Every breath shook, and I cried out when his thumb swiped over my clit, teasing me as he drove his fingers deeper. My thighs began to shake as pleasure spiraled tighter through my lower belly, taking me higher and higher, until it blossomed in a rush. Throwing my head back, I cried out, coming around his fingers.

Fender didn’t stop until I fell back panting against the mattress.

“Good, Temp, that was a good start,” he growled, then yanked his bedside drawer open and pulled out something that looked like a cock. “Now we try something a bit bigger.”

My eyes widened. “What is that?”

“Baby, it’s a vibrator, something you can use on your own or with a lover to help you get off. I got this one for you, when you agreed to be mine.”

“You got me a…a…?”

He flashed his teeth. “You haven’t missed that hounds are hung. We can’t always fuck a female. So we make them feel good in other ways. Toys are just one way.”

I bit my lip. “I’m not sure,” I said, even as I squirmed, intrigued.

“You want me to fuck you properly, baby, we’re gonna have to work up to it. My fingers were stage one, this”—he touched something on it and it made a low buzzing sound—“is stage two.” He pressed it to my clit.

My back arched and I groaned wantonly.

“Feels good?”

“Y-yes.”

He chuckled low. “After this, we move to stage three…me. You think this feels good, wait until you have your male’s cock filling you.”