Page 54 of Filthy Little Witch
“Please?” I sounded small and pathetic, even to myself.
He took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. “Fuck it.”
He lined his cock up at my entrance so I could sink all the way down. I didn’t need any foreplay. I was wet from the moment he picked me up.
“Fuck.” He sighed, wrapping his arms under mine so he could hang onto my shoulders, his fingers digging into the skin near my neck, holding me down. His massive size stung as it stretched inside me, but I welcomed the pain. I loved it, especially when I shifted my hips and he rubbed up against that fantastic spot inside me.
“God, you’re so tight,” he whispered. “You feel so fucking good. How is it this fucking good?”
“You love when I’m on top of you, don’t you?” I said. “You love letting your witch take control.”
He laughed and leaned his head back against the couch, exposing his throat to me. “Fucking hell. You can have whatever you want. Take me. Use me.”
I rocked my pelvis harder against him, stuffing as much of him inside me as I could get. Euphoria rocketed through my nerves, escalating this untamed desire for him.
“I love draining you, Atlas,” I hissed. “Having your cock in my mouth, swallowing you down, it shouldn’t be so good, but I can’t help it.”
“You hate me, witch,” he said, digging his hands into my hips so I fucked him harder, faster, more desperately. “I hate you. But fuck, I love this. I love seeing you like this.”
A small alarm blared in the back of my mind, reminding me that we were in my Tita’s house, fucking on her couch. We were blood-bound to each other and to Wes, and maybe we shouldn’t be doing this without him. Maybe Atlas was right. Maybe I should stop this. Maybe we needed to slam on the brakes. What if this was the demon’s influence? What if I wasn’t really the one in control?
But my orgasm crept up on me, heightening the already tight ball of impending ecstasy in my molecules, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I dug my boots into the couch, using it as leverage to grind harder, fueled by the little groans and whimpers spewing from his delicious mouth. I pressed my lips to his and captured them, swallowing them down like I was consuming him with it.
All of him.
His blood.
His power.
His soul.
Mine.
Atlas was mine. So was Wes. And I was theirs. I didn’t have to like it, and maybe once I got through the endorphin haze of lust, I would realize I didn’t. But as he used my momentum against me to drag my cunt along his pelvis, burying him deep inside me, I didn’t care about any of it.
There was nothing more important than this moment with him.
“Yes, fuck yes,” he cried, his muscles tensing, the veins in his neck standing out. I licked up his throat just as he stilled, his orgasm crashing out of him as his cock twitched deep inside me. It surged into me, and I crested my own pinnacle. The height of my climax yanked me down into a dark abyss of hormones and utopia. Somewhere inside, I sensed a third presence, a third orgasm that had nothing to do with Atlas or me. In the midst of everything, I didn’t think much about it; I only used it to further my own pleasure.
Atlas’s cock kicked against my inner walls, the warmth of his cum coating my insides, and that should have appalled me, but I only wanted more.
Even as my pleasure subsided, I wanted to keep going. I wanted to drop to my knees and lick him clean until he was hard again. I wanted him inside of me in every way imaginable.
Atlas came to his senses first. He hummed in approval and leaned in to kiss me, sliding his mouth down my jaw to my neck before wrapping his arms around me to lean me in so I rested against his chest.
“I take it you’re feeling better now?” he asked with a smile in his tone.
I laughed and nodded, leaning back to look him in the eyes. “I don’t know what came over me, but thank you for being here. Thank you for…”
He grinned and rubbed his thumb over my lower lip before glancing down at my shredded jeans between us. “You should grab some clothes before we head back.”
As I climbed off him, reality set in. I’d fucked Atlas Colt on my tita’s couch. I’d like to think she’d be mortified, but knowing her, she’d probably be thankful I had someone to take care of me when I needed it.
We’d done this…without Wes. We said we wouldn’t get jealous. We said what happened in the liminal stayed in the liminal, but did this count? We hadn’t talked about it. Where were the lines? Where were the boundaries?
We were bonded. Had he felt it? While I walked into my bedroom at the back, I searched for him and sensed a deep-seated satisfaction, mixed with a small amount of guilt and loneliness, as if he were upset to have been left out.
I’d have to make it up to him. Atlas and I both.
