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She smiled, her lips curving up around him, taking him deep into her throat, and back out again. Then repeating it, her eyes never leaving his.

That did it. Unable to hold back anymore, Alastair’s hands came out to grasp her hair. He pushed himself deeper into her, as deep as he could go, and Fey fought against her gag reflex as the tip of his cock hit against the back of her throat.

“Fuck the Goddess, Witchling, that’s incredible,” Alastair hissed, holding her head as he fucked her mouth, thrusting up to meet her.

It was, Fey thought, moaning around him. He was thick enough to fill her mouth entirely, thick enough it was difficult to catch her breath around him. And then he was releasing her, letting go of her head and sitting up enough to grab her by the ribs and pull her back up to him.

He kissed her roughly, one hand tangling in her hair, and the other positioning her on his lap, maneuvering her legs to either side of him. Fey let him take over, falling into the kiss, taking his face in her hands. She let him lift her thighs, let him position himself at her entrance.

Fey arched her back and moaned as Alastair entered her. His hands on her hips, he pushed her down to sit on him, forcing every inch of himself inside her.

Alastair wrapped his arms around her, forcing her hard against him and capturing her mouth again with his kiss. She rode him, moving up and down in his lap, and he met her movements with his own, thrusting his hips up to meet hers and burying himself deep inside her.

Fey could feel herself approaching her peak, and she broke their kiss, sitting up and arching as she climbed further and further up to bliss.

With a snarl, Alastair rolled them both, pinning her beneath him. Fey gasped, in shock, but it immediately became a moan as he moved inside her, fucking her hard against the bed.

Alastair buried his face in her neck, and his fingers found the space between them, rolling nimbly over her sensitive clit. Fey screamed, tightening her legs around him.

“Fey,” he whispered against her skin. “Fey if you don’t come soon, I’m going to lose it, I?—”

Fey’s entire body arched as her orgasm ripped through her, taking the breath from her lungs. She couldn’t even make a sound, could only dig her fingernails into Alastair’s back as she shuddered, cresting over and over again.

Alastair groaned and followed her, pounding into her once, twice, three more times before his body shuddered and his fingers dug into her leg where he held her.

“Alastair,” Fey gasped. They were both breathing heavily. “That was?—”

He kissed her, stealing the words from her. A gentle, sweet kiss. Kissed her, as her body came back to the world, as her breathing calmed and her pulse slowed back to normal.

Languid and satisfied, she pulled away to look him in the eyes.

“I’m so glad you came back to me, Witchling,” Alastair said. And Fey realized she was glad, too.

Chapter 52

Fey had never knowingly slept next to another person, and it was a slight shock to wake up several hours later and realize she wasn’t alone.

A shock, but not altogether unpleasant.

Fey stretched, pointing her toes, and relished the sheer amount of room she had all to herself in Alastair’s massive bed. Then, rolling over and propping herself up on her elbow, she looked down at Alastair as he slept.

He was on his back, still as death. And he was…

Beautiful, Fey thought to herself. He was beautiful, lying there, all sharp angles and soft skin. She reached up, unable to stop herself, and touched an errant lock of his dark hair. It was like silk between her fingers.

He didn’t move. Didn’t seem to be breathing. Panic built in her chest. He did look dead, lying there, so pale, eyes closed… But he couldn’t be, right? Couldn’t have…

“Alastair?” Fey asked, leaning close enough that her breath moved his hair slightly. He didn’t move, and her heartbeat was even faster. “Alastair, is?—”

His finger pressed against her lips, his face fixed and cold as marble, as she blinked.

“Coffee,” he whispered, his mouth barely moving as he spoke.

Beneath his finger, Fey’s mouth quirked up into a smile. She moved away from him, but he reached out for her, eyes still closed. His hands found her hips, and he lifted her effortlessly, laying her on top of him and wrapping his arms around her waist.

He made another noise, almost words, and Fey smiled, relaxing against him.

“What was that?” she asked.