Page 94 of The Witch and His Crow

‘Consent is important to me,’ Arwyn said between the nips and licks against my neck.

Well, if I thought he couldn’t be any sexier, that proved me wrong.

It seemed Arwyn was full of surprises. If I expected him to lay me on the sodden floor and take me, I was wrong. Usually sex for me was finding some horizontal position on a bed, or floor, or surface. But not with Arwyn. He kept me against the bathroom wall. He rose me up until I was at an angle, half propped by the wall but mostly my weight held by his hands and his waist. Then he used the lather of soap, slathered it over my arse, and his cock.

He drove the head of his cock to my arse and immediately my body eased. I felt the muscles relax, enough for Arwyn to slowly enter me. Slowly, I mean, because the sheer thickness of him was enough to split me in two. Then there was the length. It kept going and going. I expected my body to reject him, for my arse to tighten and pain to come. It didn’t. Not with Arwyn. There was only pleasure and want.

Arwyn fucked me as though it was his life’s only mission to grant me pleasure. He bore into me, over and over. If he wasn’t looking deep in my eyes, it was because enjoyment had his eyes rolling into his skull.

His body leaned into mine, protecting me from the water. Hekate help any witch that came in here to shower next. There’d be no hot water left. I pressed my mouth into his shoulder, biting down on his flesh to stifle my cries. I felt every inch of him inside of me, especially the pressure his tip made deep against my sensitive centre.

‘I hate to disappoint,’ Arwyn said, breathless. ‘But I fear I’m close to making you think I can’t control myself.’

I read between the lines. Arwyn was going to cum.

‘Do it,’ I said, leaning my forehead against his, realising how our breathing had synced perfectly as one. ‘Do what you promised and fill me up.’

That was all the permission Arwyn needed to explode. His thrusts quickened, his strokes growing shallow. I delighted in the lines that creased his forehead and beside his narrowed eyes. I noticed how his breathing echoed the movement of his hips and his mouth could barely shut.

Most of all, I loved the power I had over him. But the truth was, he also had some over me in return.

A sudden rush of pleasure overcame me. There was no warning before the orgasm hit. I threw my head back, stars dancing behind my closed eyelids, as wave after wave devoured me.

Bliss. It was undiluted, demanding bliss.

‘Hector,’ he moaned my name as he withdrew himself from me. Then he slowly lowered me to my feet. ‘I don’t have the words.’

I was still rock hard, pleasure racing through me but far from satisfied. Arwyn could’ve easily turned his back on me, washed himself off, and called an end to this. But he noticed. He looked down, saw my cock standing to attention,beggingfor attention, and did the unthinkable.

‘Your turn,’ he said, getting to his knees.

I gasped, searching for the right words to tell him it wasn’t necessary. But all that melted, like butter by a flame, as he began to feast upon my length. It was less work for him, because I was not blessed as he was. But, by the hells, this man made me feel mighty.

He made me feel worthy.

I melted in a puddle beneath his touch. If he believed he didn’t last long, I managed minutes less than him. As he looked up with me with his big blue eyes, his cheeks concave as hesucked, the planes of his jaw sculptured like stone, I couldn’t help but race towards the precipice of pleasure.

Without thought or care, I threw myself over the edge and gave into the bliss that followed the fall.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Isat on the edge of a chair in the library, focusing on old magic rather than the thrum of pleasure still rocketing through my body. Arwyn had left our new room a while ago, promising to look for Romy back in the room we’d abandoned. Although his intentions were seemingly good, I couldn’t help but feel as though he’d rather spend timeawayfrom me, thanwithme. I’d spent the first part of silence pacing the room, desperate for a new distraction to take away from the initial distraction.

Arwyn’s body, his taste and touch. The impossible level of pleasure sex with him had given me.

I always thought that I was good at cutting off emotions. But compared to Arwyn, I obviously required more practice. To him, it was like the sex never happened. The moment we left the bathroom, it was as if everything that occurred was shut away behind a closed door. He barely looked at me. Conversation was lacking. Arwyn did everything he could to direct his attention to other matters. Not that I cared to talk about it. But it was as if I was being punished. Given the silent treatment.

It shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did. Itreallydid.

Forcing Arwyn from my mind, I narrowed my attention on my open palm. If there was anything that could banish Arwynto the shadows, it was the promise of magic. And exploring old magic was thrilling. Since Eleanor had introduced me to it, and my mother’s own teachings had awakened in the back of my memories, I felt connected to a part of myself I never knew was there. It had been many years since I felt brave enough to remember thebefore. But as I stared expectantly at my palm, flashes of a memory flooded to my mind.

I was young, so much so I couldn’t place an age. I sat cross-legged on the floor of my bedroom. Mother was before me, smiling, her curly brown hair pinned atop her head. Even now, all these years later, I could still picture the two strands that would always fall over her face. Pesky, she’d call them. I smiled at the memory, as unwanted tears of grief pricked in the corners of my eyes. I wished I could hear her voice again, if only for a moment. But in the memory, when her mouth opened and moved, no sound came out.

Unlike children born outside of the craft, my walls were not only decorated with alphabet tables. Mine had depictions of the phases of moons, a table of occult symbols and what must’ve been runes. At the time they meant nothing special to me. But now, since using the old magic, I felt myself be connected to that time. Seeing those marks through a new light.

Not only had the use of old magic strengthened my body, but it was also unlocking memories I never knew I had buried.

If old magic was not a part of my mother’s world, then why would she introduce me to it?

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