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ALASTAIR

She had left.

The fucking Witch had left him high and dry, and now she was back, acting like she hadn’t given him the worst case of blue balls in his life. Acting like she hadn’t been grinding against his fucking hand the last time she’d seen him.

He’d practically raced through his work with Ferus that night—he’d been itching to get back to his office, itching to get back to her. And when he’d returned, what had he found? An empty fucking office.

Well… empty, save for a pair of black panties conspicuously left in the middle of his desk. Panties soaked with her scent, with her proof that she’d enjoyed what he had done to her.

At first, he couldn’t believe it. She’d been putty in his hands, even without the persuasion, and he knew she’d been enjoying herself. Hell, she’d been close to coming for him, so fucking close, before Ferus had interrupted them. It would have been the first of many he was willing to give her that night.

Alastair had been in a rage when he’d found her gone. Even more wrathful when he’d noticed the gift she’d left behind to mock him. He wasn’t proud of the surge of arousal he’d felt at finding her soaked panties. Wasn’t proud of how hard he’d come that night with them wrapped around his throbbing cock.

Shaking those thoughts from his head, Alastair tried to focus as he headed back to his office, back to the Witch waiting for him there. Years of running seedy bars and clubs had given him a sixth sense for trouble, and this Witch was trouble.

He’d hear her out and be done with her. The last thing he needed was more trouble. No, scratch that, the second last thing he needed was trouble. The absolute last thing he needed was a Witch who had somehow wrapped him around her little pinky in the few minutes they’d spent together. A Witch he hadn’t been able to stop fantasizing about.

She was sitting on his desk when he finally got to his office, her long, elegant legs crossed, feet dangling in the air.

Alastair stopped on the threshold, frowning at the open and unlocked door, at the Witch perched nonchalantly on his desk. She looked up at him with wide, innocent green eyes.

“You really shouldn’t leave your door unlocked,” she said, voice dripping with sincerity. “Who knows what sort of criminals could get in?”

Alastair snorted. It had been locked. And, just like before, it hadn’t presented any sort of barrier to her. “Clever trick, Witchling,” he said. He didn’t close the door behind him, but he made a sound of appreciation as he looked at her on the desk. “This certainly brings back memories,” he purred.

She had the decency to blush before hopping off his desk. Her sweater shifted up as she did so, and he caught a glimpse of her ass in those skintight pants.

He couldn’t help the mental image that jumped into his head. The image of him on his knees, peeling those pants from her long legs. He imagined propping her back up on that desk and worshiping her with his mouth until she screamed...

Alastair cleared his throat.

Yeah, those were exactly the sort of thoughts he didn’t need right now.

“Sit,” he said, and she did, slipping into the chair before his desk and settling against the backrest.

She looked different like this. More comfortable. He’d loved the look of that tight dress on her, but this looked more… her. Relaxed.

“So,” Alastair started. He stood over her, and she had to crane her neck up to look at him. It was petty, Alastair knew, but today he was feeling pretty fucking petty, and he sure as fuck was going to lean into it. “You have two minutes, Witchling.”

Her eyes flashed with a spark of anger. “My name isn’t Witchling. You don’t hear me calling you leech, do you?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Cute. So, what should I call you? Thief? Cock tease?”

“Fey,” she snapped. “My name is Fey.”

“Fey.” He liked the way it sounded. Liked the way her breath hitched when he said it. “You have two minutes, Fey.”

“Are you always like this?” she snapped.

“Like what?”

“Like a fucking ass.”

Oh, he liked this. He liked playing with her.

“Let me be very clear, Fey. You came here to my club, and you broke into my office. Now you’re here again, uninvited and demanding my help. So, I think I’ll act however the fuck I want.”

He reached out, running a finger down the crook of her neck, delighting in the way her pulse leaped in response. “You should be thankful. There are women here every night who would beg for two minutes of my undivided attention. And I think you remember what I can do in such a short period, don’t you?”