Page 128 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One

She swallowed hard, the flush spreading down her neck as she held my gaze. I leaned in slightly, letting my breath fan across her skin.

“Though I have to admit,” I continued, my voice dropping lower, “I do like it when you do it as Gabriel.”

Her blush deepened, and she looked away for a moment before her curiosity got the better of her.

“Does that mean you bend both ways?” she asked, her tone cautious but tinged with intrigue.

I chuckled, my smirk growing into something more devious.

“Would that be a problem?” I countered, watching her carefully.

She shook her head quickly.

“No, not at all,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “Though I’d prefer it stayed within…our group.”

Our group.

This woman…

Her answer only made my smirk widen.

The possibilities her words conjured up sent a thrill through me, but I focused on the here and now, the way she looked beneath me, so eager and so tempting.

“I can follow those terms and conditions,” I said, my tone light and teasing as I shifted closer, letting the tip of my cock brush against her slick entrance.

“Fine,” she said, her voice steady despite the blush still painting her cheeks. “But you’ll have to wait for me to adapt to being Gabriel. I barely know how to use my…winkie dinkie.”

The ridiculousness of her choice of words caught me off guard, and I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound filling the room.

“Winkie dinkie?” I repeated, my laughter shaking my shoulders. “Is that really what you’re calling it?”

Her glare was half-hearted at best, and I could see the corners of her mouth twitching as though she were fighting back a smile.

“Shut up,” she muttered, her tone tinged with mock annoyance. “It’s not like I’ve had much practice talking about it.”

I grinned, leaning in closer so that our foreheads almost touched.

“Well,” I said, my voice low and teasing, “I guess you don’t mind my winkie dinkie sliding into that needy little cunt of yours.”

Her attempt at a retort was cut off by a sharp moan as I began to inch into her, slow and deliberate.

The way her body stretched around me, the heat and tightness enveloping me, was almost too much to bear. Her head fell back against the table, her lips parted as a mix of moans and gasps spilled from her.

“Gods, Gwenivere,” I groaned, my hands gripping her thighs as I pressed forward, inch by inch. “You’re…fucking perfect.”

Her legs tightened around me, her nails digging into the edge of the table as she trembled beneath me.

“You’re…so big,” she gasped, her voice barely more than a whisper.

I paused when I was fully seated, the base of my cock pressed against her slick heat. My chest heaved as I struggled to control myself, to resist the urge to start moving before she was ready. Her body quivered around me, her breathing shallow as she adjusted to the fullness.

“You okay?” I ask, my voice tight with restraint. It’s taking everything to not fuck her roughly. I’ve been so used to it that taking things slow like this is a new challenge I wasn’t expecting to struggle against.

She nodded quickly, her hands reaching up to grip my shoulders.

“Please,” she whispered, her tone desperate. “Move. I need you to move.”

Her plea was my undoing.

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