Page 50 of The Coven

I considered his words, analyzing my body from my fingers to my toes. In spite of his harsh treatment and the speed with which he’d moved me to the desk, I didn’t think I’d so much as bumped against it. I greatly doubted there would be so much as a bruise on me the next day.

“Or are you wet?” he asked, and the hand that didn’t pin me at the nape touched my bare hip. I halted against the desk, wincing as his fingers slid over the swell of my ass.

He cupped a single cheek in his palm, gripping it and digging his fingertips into it as I fought back my strangled whimper.

“Fuck you.”

“I do believe that’s what you want,” he said, his laughter sliding over my skin and making me feel too warm. The mixture of desire and rage burning in me was almost too much to handle, leaving me gasping on his desk as he leaned over me once again. “Do you want to come, Witchling?”

“I want you toreleaseme,” I snarled, rearing back against his hand. I barely managed to push up at all before he shoved me back down, flattening my cheek against the desk.

“Thatis not going to happen,” he said, the smirk in his voice making me seethe. I searched for plants in his room, for anything I could use against him. I didn’t suspect it would end well, but it didn’t matter.

There were none.

I raised my foot, slamming it down upon the stone with a grunt. It cracked beneath the force of my heel, my magic echoing through it as the floor beneath us shook.

He slapped my ass lightly, sending a tiny jolt of sharp heat through me. The swell of my ass cheek shook lightly when he struck it.

“That was expensive.”

“Of course you would know how much it cost. You’re older than dirt!” I scoffed.

“Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll let you go,” he murmured, sliding his hand from the fleshy part of my ass to where I bent over. He slid it between my legs, brushing his thumb over the lace of my thong where it covered my pussy.

I moaned, my hips moving to seek out more of the pressure. There was no controlling it, no containing the surge of pleasure that spiraled through me. He’d edged me so efficiently and left me wanting for days. My body wanted the release it was owed.

“I am going to cut off your dick and feed it to you,” I threatened when he stopped, shifting his hand to the inside of my thigh once more. It horrified me to feel how slick my skin was, how wet I’d become the moment he touched me.

The moment he put the fear of the devil in me after I’d thrown that paperweight.

There was something seriously fucking wrong with me.

“That would be very foolish, since my cock is the only one your pretty little cunt can find pleasure in,” he said, his laughter coating my skin as he shoved the fabric of his shirt up farther. Leaning forward, he trailed his mouth up the bare skin of my spine, tracing the trunk of my tree tattoo with his tongue.

“What do you want from me?” I whimpered, every touch of his lips or tongue sending a pulse of want straight to my pussy.

He chuckled against my spine, slipping his free hand between my legs once more and shoving my panties to the side so that he could touch bare skin. A single finger found my entrance, sliding into me slowly and stroking over a spot within me that made my eyes roll back. Grinning into my back, he ran his fang over the curve of my hip.

“Beg.”

“What?” I asked, my mouth going dry. He couldn’t be fucking serious.

“Beg me to make you come. If you expect me to get on my knees for you, then you’d better be ready to ask me for it, Witchling,” he growled, stroking my clit with his thumb while his finger made slow, smooth slides in and out of me.

“Gray,” I mumbled, faltering for any other words. I couldn’t give him that. Even in my desperation, even knowing it was what I wasmeantto be doing. Vessels couldn’t love, but they could feel desire. They could feel convenience and attraction.

They could trust the woman they fucked and leave her unaccompanied in their office.

“Give me the words,” he ordered.

“Please release me, and I’ll do it myself,” I growled in spite of myself.

His chuckle was a bastardization of humor. It was the brutal reality that I didn’t think he ever intended to release me. Even when he was done with me, he’d probably keep the compulsion on me for the sick satisfaction that I would never again be able to find pleasure.

With myself. With anyone.

And it would be he who filled my fantasies. The only man who could make me come.

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