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He reached her hips and looked up at her.

“Do you remember?” he asked, his tongue snaking out to lick the arch of her hipbone.

She shuddered, eyes wide and glassy.

He kissed his way to her center, running his tongue up her once. His eyes never left hers, and when he paused at the top of her core, she whispered one word.

“Yes.”

With a growl, he unleashed himself.

Chapter 25

This was what her body had been craving, Fey thought, shuddering beneath Alastair’s tongue.

She’d had lovers before, but Alastair looked at her like he would die if he couldn’t taste her, would die if he couldn’t touch every inch of her body. He touched her like he was worshiping her, like every caress was a prayer.

He groaned as his tongue slipped into her, his hands holding her in place by her hips, and she lost herself in the feeling of his mouth on her. She’d have bruises where he gripped her hips, but she didn’t care.

He found her clit, and his tongue circled once like he was teasing it before he closed his mouth around it.

Fey’s body jolted, and he chuckled against her skin. One of his hands released her, and a moment later she heard a zipper. Shocked, she glanced down at where he knelt on the floor between her open legs. Alastair’s hand gripped his cock from where he’d freed it from his pants, and he stroked himself as he licked and teased her.

“Do you like that?” he asked, looking up at her as she watched. He fisted his cock for her.

Wordlessly, she nodded, and she felt his smile against her skin.

“And what about this?” Alastair asked. His hand moved from her hips to her pussy, and he slipped a finger inside of her.

Fey fell back against the desk, her back arching like a bow. He growled his approval, and added another finger, his mouth never leaving her.

She was losing herself in this feeling, the combination of his fingers and mouth on her.

“Alastair,” she warned, feeling her pleasure building. Her hands gripped the edge of the desk, fingernails digging into the wood.

He groaned again, curling his fingers inside her.

“Come for me, Witchling,” he urged. His tongue danced over her clit as his fingers worked inside of her.

She did, her body flexing off the desk, head thrown back as she screamed. She gripped his head in her thighs, and he devoured her, using his fingers to guide her through her climax, mouth clasped around her clit.

Fey had never come so hard in her life, and when she finally relaxed enough to release his head from between her thighs, she collapsed back against the desk, breathless.

His clothing made little noise as he removed it, standing between her legs and leaning over the desk to cover her body with her own.

Alastair’s face was wet with her arousal, and she could taste herself on him when he kissed her.

“You taste even better than I imagined,” he whispered against her lips. His hands moved to her wrists, and he brought them up above her head, pinning her to the desk with one massive hand.

His other hand moved down her body, returning to between her thighs.

Fey gasped as his fingers entered her again.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he said, and his words felt like a threat. “Oh no. Not after how long you made me wait for this. How long you made me wait to taste you.”

Despite the earth-shattering orgasm she’d just had, Fey’s body wasn’t done either. His fingers moved inside her, and her body roiled in response.

“Beg me,” Alastair said, moving his mouth to her ear.