The first inch threatens to undo me. The rest leave me sure I’ve died and ended up in a pleasure realm.
“Gods, I can feel how good it is for you,” she pants while bracing a palm in the middle of my chest. “You’re glowing with it.”
My emotional grid, she must mean. At first, I was wary of her power, but soon realized that anything I feel, I’m happy to share with her. I hope she can see my aura now. Hope she knows this moment is transformative for me.
Then the witch sways her hips, and I bark with the spike of pleasure that shoots through my limbs.
“Gods. Mor. Again. Please.”
“Touch me,” she commands as she keeps up her rhythm.
Her breasts are heavy weights in my palms, and I love the velvety texture of her skin, contrasted with the tight points of her nipples. I stroke my thumbs over them.
Then I lean in to suck one. Mor gasps, plunging her fingers into my hair and holding me to her.
Her taste is earthy, tinged with sweat, and I feast on the sensations of being buried deep inside her while also dragging her into my mouth, all the while listening to her whisper my name.
“My clit, baby. Touch my clit.”
The words are whimpers. But one of them spears me.
The endearment. A sweet little word.
She called me baby.
I let her nipple pop free to meet her needy gaze.
“Say it again,” I growl, so overwhelmed by lust and longing that I sound angry.
But Mor understands.
“Baby.” Her fingers comb through my hair. “Stroke my clit. Make me come.”
Yes. Fuck yes. I’ll be the one to give her this. The only one who has.
My touch tracks down over her soft belly, dives through her crimson curls, and slips under the little hood that hides her pleasure center.
“I’ll give you anything,” I promise her, wishing there were more to me to offer.
But if she wants my soul, hell, it’s hers.
“You, baby.” Her eyes go half lidded with my strokes, and she leans in to kiss me deep. When our lips part, she sighs, “I want you.”
Then a sob spills from her throat, and I can feel Mor’s body flutter, then grip mine hard with her orgasm.
She keens, and I growl in triumph, gripping her hips again to guide her up and down my length, fucking her as she rides the ecstasy. Milking myself until I reach the crest.
“Gods!” I shout, my balls emptying into the witch, the space between us slick with both our pleasure. “Gods,” I gasp again as I collapse back, Mor a puddle of spent woman on my chest.
We lie there for a time, our breathing eventually slowing into a matching rhythm. Sunlight filters through the skylight, casting rose petals across Mor’s back.
I want to see her like this every day.
I want to fix the things that break around her.
I want her to call me baby.
Worry creeps in.
