Page 93 of Pirate Witch

I ram home in a single thrust, forcing my cock into her spasming cunt without any more teasing. Warm, wet fire engulfs me, and I groan.

“Fuck,” I hiss, looking down at the sight of myself buried to the hilt inside her. “You feel so fucking good.”

Nilsa isn’t in the mood for compliments. “Move!”

I grin. “Remember, you asked for it.”

Withdrawing slowly, I let her relax for a second before slamming myself back inside her body. My thrusts are long, hard, and fast. I don’t have the control left for anything else. If the way she shrieks and moans are any indication, she doesn’t care. She chants my name like a prayer, gasping it between breaths. It doesn’t take long until I feel my balls drawing up in readiness. My own orgasm is coming fast, but I’ll be damned if she doesn’t come too. My hand reaches back down to her clit, and I pinch the tiny nubbin of flesh mercilessly.

That tiny hint of pleasure-pain is all it takes.

Nilsa rockets over the edge, her orgasm drawing my own from me. Seed spurts from my dick, bathing her insides and sealing our mating bond.

It snaps into place between our two souls. For one tiny instant, where our spirits fuse, I’m bathed in a sense of completeness I’ve never imagined possible. My knees turn weak as I’m left with a soul deep knowledge that I will never be whole again without this woman.

Beneath my shirt, the glow of magic seeps out, and I rip the fabric over my head, wanting to watch as her mark takes form. Branding me as hers forever.

Across my hipbone, a deep purple glyph edged in the silver of moonlight flares bright for a second before turning dark. The tattoo covers my lower right-hand side in a mixture of mage and witch symbols, framed with wispy lines which extend all the way to my chest. There’s still a silvery edge to the mark, but it’s not glowing anymore.

My ropes release her arms and slowly lower her down to me. Somehow—Goddess fucking knows how—I manage to make my legs work for long enough to carry her to my bed and settle her down among the pillows. I chuckle when I realise she’s still holding my damned keys. I kiss her knuckles, tug the keys out of her grip, and chuck them away, followed by the blindfold. She blinks in the light, meeting my eyes slowly and smiling like the cat who got the cream. She definitely looks satisfied, but I’m not going to assume anything until I hear it from her own lips.

“You okay?” I ask, dragging her into my body.

She hums contentedly, curling up against me. “That was… unexpected. But I liked it.”

The last part is a near silent whisper, and I smirk before pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

“Good.”

Energy courses through my abdomen, travelling straight to my dick from my mating mark. My whole body jerks at the new sensation, and Nilsa’s fingers retreat from their exploration.

“Sorry, I guess it must be sore,” she mutters.

“No. Felt good,” I grunt. “But if you do it again…”

She pauses, finger hovering right over the edge of a dark line. “What?”

“I won’t be able to stop myself from fucking you.”

My witch grins, a wicked glint entering her eyes. “I can handle that.”

Her finger traces a line towards the inside of the glyph, and I groan. Before she can even catch her breath, I lift one of her legs over my hip and drive my aching dick back inside her.

It’s going to be a good fucking night.

ChapterThirty-Two

NILSA

Though the battle is over, it still takes several days before relative normality is restored. Everyone in the city seems to pitch in with the clean up until no one visiting would guess at the complete carnage that was here before. The temples have been working overtime, trying to heal the wounded and care for the dead. Both Solars and Lunars alike are shattered.

More than once, my men have joked that keeping the witches rested and fed is a full-time job. More than once, Rysen has dragged me over his shoulder with a gentle apology, melting my resistance as he carries me off to sleep. Between keeping their eyes on me and helping out with the cleanup, they’ve barely slept themselves. So it’s no surprise that none of them stir when I stumble out of the bathroom.

All six of them are collapsed on the bed, and the temptation to return to the snoring pile of muscles is almost too great. But the message Opal woke me up with holds me back.

“It’s barely dusk,” Klaus mumbles, shocking me into stillness with one boot on and the other in my hand.

I press a finger to my lips, smiling. My siren is still getting used to the inverted sleep cycle that the Lunar coven keeps, but even he knows this is early.