Page 18 of War's Witch
“Fuck, yes,” I say between gritted teeth when she comes.
Her cunt is squeezing my cock like a vise, forcing my orgasm out of me. My breath gets caught in my lungs as I fill the condom, her pussy tightening around my dick as she rides her bliss.
Dropping my forehead between her shoulder blades, her warm, smooth wet skin is a calming balm for me as I catch my breath.
Closing my eyes, I commit this moment to memory, just in case she fucking runs from me. My tongue darts out, licking up the center of her back to her neck, sucking on the skin there.
She shivers, and I love when she reacts like this to me.
“Why is this so different?” Her voice carries a tremble.
“It is the spell that you cast on me, baby.” She lets out a strangled laugh, mixed with different emotions.
“Shit, War.” She steps forward, my soft dick falling from her body.
Now I know it is not the time to bring up anything more past tonight, so I turn the water off, her gaze fixed on mine. I collect a towel when I step out and dry her off, then myself, before leading her to the bed.
Once we are settled onto the bed, her back to my front, I kiss the back of her head, with every intention of waking up and feasting on her pussy in the morning. After that we can talk about seeing each other again.
Holding her to me, movement catches my eye, then I see it. The black feather from earlier gently rocks back and forth as it lands on the bedside table.
A smile slips across my face and I look to the ceiling.
“I hear you,” I say in my head, knowing this so the sign that everyone has told me I have been waiting for.
Chapter
Nine
CLEO
Something wakes me. My brain pushes through the fog of sleep, reaching for the source of the noise—a soft voice, a whimper that has me turning over to see War sleeping next to me, muttering. His face is twitching as he reels through his dream.
Holding my breath, I lie perfectly still, pulse thick in my ears, listening to the sounds coming from him.
Blinking against the darkness, I adjust to the space. A sliver of light seeps through a break in his curtains, illuminating parts of the room.
More whimpering, words that sound like pleading slip from his lips, pulling me upright, my spine prickling. I know not to wake a person from a dream or a nightmare, because you never know how they will react when suddenly woken up.
“No, please, you have to do something,” he mumbles, fear clear in his tone.
What happened to him?
“Please,” he pleads.
His chest is rising and falling at a rapid rate. Sitting up, I pull my knees to my chest and watch as his dream plays out. There is not much I can do until he wakes, if he does.
The sheet is a much-needed item, shielding my vulnerability in this moment as he speaks words that crush me, but at the same time solidifies that all men are the fucking same.
“Lilian, I love you. You are mine; always.” My hand shoots to my mouth, hoping to muffle the sob that tries to break free.
Tears fill my eyes and I can’t fathom the emotions running through me.
How can a man I barely know make me feel like this? In my mind, I came here for a good time, for something fleeting, giving me some material to flick the bean to afterwards.
But I can’t shake the feeling I am leaving with something else—something heavy and tangled. I watch him, the way his brow furrows in sleep, his lips moving while he mutters words I cannot fully make out.
He told me he was not married, so who the hell is Lilian? I feel like I am running through a fog thinking over what he said to me, and not once did he ever let slip or give a hint that he had a woman in his life. My gaze drops to his left hand that is gripping at the sheet beneath him, checking for a tan line indicating that he took a wedding ring off, but there is nothing.
