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“Fuck,” Alastair hissed, his breath hot against her neck, his lips brushing against her too-sensitive skin and making her shiver. “You’re already so wet for me, aren’t you Witchling?”

She didn’t have a chance to respond before he pushed one long finger inside her, and all she could do was moan in answer.

“Such a good Witch,” he whispered in her ear, adding a second finger and making her back arch against the wall. “Always so wet for me.”

His palm pressed against her as he fucked her with his hand, rubbing her clit while he moved his fingers inside her. It was too much already, and when he used his other hand to lift her, spreading her legs and raising her thigh to his hip so his fingers could curl deeper inside her, she lost it.

Fey bit into her bottom lip to keep from screaming as she came, her hips rolling against his hand as she chased each wave of her orgasm. By the time she came down from her peak, she was gasping, fighting to catch her breath. Still, she whimpered at the loss when he pulled his fingers from her throbbing pussy.

Alastair brought his hand up to his face and licked the two fingers that had been inside her. “I love this taste,” he told her. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever tasted, Fey.”

He moved so quickly that Fey had no time to react. One minute, she was pinned between him and the wall, pressed against him with one leg wrapped around his hip, and the next minute he spun her around, pushing her face and upper body into the wall and yanking her pants down to reveal her ass.

His hands gripped her hips, adjusting her until her back arched, and she had to press her hands against the wall to balance herself. His fingertips trailed across her pussy again, then continued up the curve of her backside, over her ass and back toward?—

Fey whimpered when Alastair’s fingers stopped against the puckered skin of her ass. He circled her hole with fingertips still drenched from her pussy, slick against her entrance, and chuckled darkly as she trembled under his touch.

“Not tonight, Witchling,” he said, fingers circling her hole again, teasing.

Fey’s entire body quivered as his fingers moved away, and he gripped her hips hard enough to bruise. She felt him line up with her entrance, felt the tip of his cock press against her pussy, and it was an effort not to push back against him.

When they’d fucked before in his office, he’d entered her slowly, letting her adjust inch by inch to the impossible size of him. He didn’t enter her slowly, tonight. With one powerful thrust, he filled her, pushing his cock inside her to the hilt.

Fey’s back arched even more, and her head tipped back away from the wall as she screamed, equal parts shock and pleasure. She’d never felt so full, so stretched open, and it was a wonderful agony having him fill her like this.

Alastair’s hand immediately clasped over her mouth.

“Shhhhhh,” he whispered into her ear. “You’re the one who didn’t want us to be overheard.” His fingers were still slick from her pussy and his saliva, and his hand was damp on her face. She moaned loudly into it as he started to move his hips, his other arm snaking around her chest to pull her back against him as he moved inside her.

“If you’re not quiet, you’re going to get us caught,” he chided, rolling his hips, and tightening his grip on her. “Unless that’s what you want?” His voice was a caress against the soft skin of her neck, and the slow steady rhythm of his cock moving inside her was overwhelming. He peppered impossibly light kisses across her skin as he whispered to her. “Do you want us to get caught, little Witchling? Do you want someone to come by and hear you?”

Fey couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, she was nothing but raw energy, every nerve of her body on fire with the things he was doing to her. His pace increased, and she could feel her body tightening in response, rising to another peak.

“I think you do want to get caught,” he whispered into her skin, and she could feel his lips curving against her into a smile. “What a dirty girl you are, Fey.”

It was lucky he still had his hand over her mouth, lucky he gripped her hard enough that she couldn’t even open her mouth to draw a proper breath. Because this time, when she came, she came hard enough that the scream she could have made would have brought every guard in the city running.

She shuddered in his grip, her body convulsing over and over as he moved inside her.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, finally taking his hand from her mouth as she shuddered weakly for the final time. “You are so fucking perfect, Fey.”

His hips started to move faster, harder, as he chased his pleasure. “So fucking perfect,” he whispered again, burying his face in the space between her shoulder and her neck and shuddering his release. Fey arched back against him, loving the feel of it, loving the way he held her even tighter as he filled her.

His hands loosened around her slightly, after, and they both fought to catch their breath. Fey licked her lips, shocked at how intense that had been, how good he had felt. She’d thought maybe their first time had been a fluke, but?—

“FUCK,” Alastair snarled, slamming his hand against the wall above her head. “A fucking BED.”

Startled, Fey pulled away slightly, tilting her head back and to the side to look up at him. His face was contorted with anger, eyes clenched, and fangs bared.

“Alastair?” she asked.

“I couldn’t take five fucking minutes to find a bed,” he snarled, palm pressed flat against the wall. “I fucked you on a desk, and now against a wall, when you deserve a fucking bed.”

Fey couldn’t help it. She laughed, her hand coming up to cover her face as she did so.

“It’s not funny,” he insisted, opening his eyes to look at her.

Fey wiggled away from him and turned to face him. He was leaning against the wall, arm braced above her, and the way his body was curved above hers, almost protective, made her feel… safe.