Page 91 of Bad Witch

“It is.”

Again, he did as I asked. As soon as he was seated, I climbed on top of him. I wanted him inside me badly, but he was right, he was huge and I wasn’t sure he would fit just yet. So instead, I lowered myself, so his erection was trapped between us—then slowly, rocked against him.

Fender sucked in a breath and grabbed my hips, holding me tight to him. “You feel so good up there, Temp.”

“It’d feel even better if you were inside me,” I said, already feeling the beginnings of another orgasm.

He made a harsh sound, lifting his hips to meet mine. “Soon.”

I rocked against him faster. We ground against each other, our mouths fused, tongues dancing, while his hands roamed my body. In minutes, I was close to losing my mind all over again. Without really thinking, I lifted higher, until the wide head of his cock was notched against my opening. I hadn’t meant to, not really, but now that he was right there, I wanted to know how he felt, even just a little of him.

“Tempest, fuck,” he growled.

I applied a little pressure, wriggling. The head wedged inside me, but that’s as far as it would go. Fender hissed, panting, and gripped my hips, holding me in place, stopping me from sliding down even farther, not that I could. The head of his cock seemed to grow thicker inside me then, and he quickly jerked his hips back a moment before hot seed pulsed from him. He jerked my hips forward again, trapping his enormous cock between our bodies, and swiveled his hips in an erotic way, thrusting between our bodies as he came. It was so wonderful, the friction so good that all I could do was throw my head back and cry out as I came a second time.

Fender pulled me back down and buried his face against the side of my throat. His canines scraped against my skin, and the sensation made my heart race faster and my orgasm drag on longer.

When the pulsing of his cock finished, he wrapped his arms around me more firmly and stayed where he was, catching his breath. We remained that way for a long time. He didn’t say anything, just held on to me.

Finally, he lifted his head, took my face in his hands, and kissed me hard and deep. “You’re so fucking perfect. You undo me.”

“You make me… I become someone else when I’m with you. I feel…strong.” I swallowed thickly. “Beautiful.” That wasn’t something I’d ever seen myself as.

“Because you are. Fuck, Tempest, that’s exactly how I see you.”

My eyes stung, taking me by surprise. Thankfully, Fender moved at the same time, lifting me as he stood. He placed me on the seat and limped to the bathroom, then returned with a damp washcloth.

I hadn’t even thought about his leg and the pain kneeling must have caused him. “Your leg. I shouldn’t have⁠—”

“I was exactly where I wanted to be.” He was grinning as he closed the space between us, then he dragged the warm cloth over my belly and gently cleaned me up before dragging it over his abs, cleaning himself as well.

“Before you…right before you came, your…” I dropped my gaze. He’d done up his pants between here and getting the washcloth. “You got bigger, you grew. Does that always hap⁠—”

The phone rang.

Fender grabbed his phone from the table. “Yeah,” he said when he answered it, and Warrick’s voice came through the speakers, loud and clear.

“Wills spoke to Zinnia. Death wasn’t with her, but she’ll call back as soon as she speaks to him. Could be tomorrow before we hear anything. I’ll let you know as soon as she calls back.”

They disconnected.

“You hungry, peaches?”

I should go home. I should try to commune with the Matildas again, and attempt to explain. I should get busy making that potion for Garan. But I couldn’t bring myself to deal with anything right then. But mainly, I didn’t want to leave Fender. “Sounds good.”

Chapter

Twenty-Six

Tempest

* * *

I jolted awake when Fender’s phone rang. His hand snapped out, grabbing it from the small table beside the recliner.

When he answered, his rumbling voice vibrated against my cheek, where I rested on his chest. I must have fallen asleep after we ate. Still drowsy, I barely registered Fender’s side of the conversation—until he cursed, in a way that lifted the hair on the back of my neck.

Quickly sitting up, I met Fender’s gaze. He pulled the phone from his ear and hit the speaker button. “How many?” he asked.