Page 39 of Spellcaster (Weatherstone College #1)

That night as I crawled into bed, muscles aching in places that I didn’t even know had muscles, I tried to get comfortable

enough to sleep. Those bastards were master torturers, and I wondered if I’d survive our next training on Wednesday.

The air through my open window was cool. I enjoyed the change of season as we headed for fall and the end of the year. I was

no closer to finding my affinity, but I’d grown a lot as a witch since the day I first walked through Weatherstone’s gates.

Grown, but there was a part of me that felt more lost than ever before.

Especially about Logan.

Dad’s fears regarding the spellcaster might not have come to fruition, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t completely impacted

my year anyway. He was still a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma, or however the idiom went. He was a stranger,

and yet our energies worked together as if we were the best friends he ironically called us.

Were we still enemies? I had no idea.

We certainly weren’t friends, but maybe we’d evolved into friendly enemies? There was no creepy chill down my spine around

Logan, but there was a scorching energy that completely messed with my internal composure.

If I hadn’t been borrowing our fathers’ war, I would have known long ago that it wasn’t Logan’s magic creating the monsters.

I’d felt it enough now to recognize the subtle tendrils, tinted in a dark untraceable energy.

Logan’s power was as blazing as the summer sun, and as dangerous if you got too close.

He didn’t hide in shadows; he had no need to.

Rolling over in bed, I hugged the pillow against me, and tried not to mope over the fact that I wasn’t wearing his hoodie.

I’d been angry at his arrogant handling during our training, but now I missed the soft lengths against my skin.

Eventually I drifted off, the cool breezes caressing my face as I snuggled deep in the bed. Sleep was restful until my mind

shifted into the dreamscape.

His mouth pressed against mine, and as our tongues tangled I wondered if I would die from the heady taste of the warlock.

He was dominant, demanding control, demanding everything. My body thrummed as he stroked his hands along my sensitive skin,

and I felt the brush of the thick head of his cock poised at my entrance. He pushed slowly inside me, spreading my pussy to

its limits with his size. “Logan,” I sobbed, shifting my legs so they were wider apart, giving him the access he demanded.

“Shhh, Precious,” he murmured. “Don’t fight me any longer.”

That sentence settled uneasily. I hadn’t fought Logan for months. As he slid until he was fully seated, I moaned and completely

forgot that thought.

“Isn’t this much better than mons—?”

A large crack of thunder woke me, the rain pouring as the scent of storm and ember drifted through my window. Jerking myself

up in bed, my body felt as if it were literally vibrating. My hands glowed as I held them up before me—the first time I’d

ever woken to my magic spilling. Pressing my hands against my sweaty forehead, I tried to bring myself back to reality. But

goddesses be damned, that felt realer than any sex I’d had in my life.

My legs shook as I stood, muscles aching, but not as bad as the ache between my thighs. Unsure what to do, I was debating the danger in showering off the sweat, and possibly finishing what the dream started, when I felt a press against my door’s entrance pad.

His energy hit me as I hurried over on shaky legs to wrench the door open and come face-to-perfect-chest with Logan’s artwork.

Lifting my gaze, I reached his face, and blanched. It’d been a while since I’d seen this particular expression, dark and feral.

The spellcaster looked half out of control.

He pressed into my personal space, and I was too stunned to move away. “What the Hel are you doing to me?”

He was covered in a sheen of sweat too, his chest heaving as if he was winded, when I knew the warlock could easily run for

two hours. “Doing to you? I’m doing nothing to you,” I bit out, wishing I didn’t sound so breathy. “I haven’t left my room

since dinner.”

He pushed into me again, and this time I took a step back. “You’re haunting my dreams, Precious,” he rumbled, like a legit

rumble spilled from the wide expanse of his chest. “When I close my eyes, you’re there.”

He was still stalking forward as I backed away, until I felt the wind and rain hit my back through the open window. “Haunting

your dreams?” I echoed, blinking a few times. My frazzled brain was finally putting some of it together. “We’re having the

same dreams?”

That took him by surprise, but he recovered in an instant. “Tell me about your dreams.”

The demand had my chest heaving, the hard peaks of my nipples pressing against my white tank. At this point, I’d have taken

the embarrassment of wearing Logan’s hoodie over my braless state. “I dream about you,” I whispered, breathing so deeply our

chests almost touched. “All the fucking time.” And it’s driving me insane.

The unsaid words were as heavy as those that slipped past my lips.

Logan rested his hands on the windowsill on either side of me, caging me in as he’d done the other night. He hadn’t touched

me yet, but I was surrounded by the heat he naturally exuded. I had to clench my fists to stop myself from grabbing him and

dragging him between my thighs.

He was close enough to read the arousal on my face, his gaze sliding over mine. The ice darkened to moss as he cursed. In

a flash, his hands captured my face, and before I could part my lips for my next breath, his lips collided with mine.

I swear time stopped, this single beat where Logan tasted my mouth like a drowning man, and I wondered if I’d fallen into

dreamland again. My body, still throbbing from the unfulfilled dream, opened to him like he was the very nectar of the goddesses.

The kiss was devastating, and desperate, and he dominated the pace as he always did. One of his hands slid down my ass, and

I gasped when he lifted me with ease, resting my butt cheeks on the ledge of the sill, my poor herbs shoved to the side.

Logan stripped away my clothes in one swipe of his energy, and lowered his head to capture my right nipple, while his fingers

worked the hard tip of my left. “Fucking Hel!” I tried to muffle my cry, unsuccessfully.

By the time he kissed along my stomach and pressed his mouth to my clit, I was ready to explode. I tilted my hips to give

him access, and his movements were jerkier as he ran his tongue over me and groaned, tasting me in an uncontrolled way, taking

what he wanted, driving me to the brink of sanity.

Sliding my hands into the thick, soft strands of his dark hair, I tightened my hold and rode his face, half of my body out

the window. I’d have fallen if Logan didn’t have an unbreakable hold on me.

The swirls in my stomach exploded and I cried out, jerking against him.

He tightened his hands, his tongue relentless as he plunged it inside me, lapping up my orgasm.

He wrung out every ounce of pleasure and then some, and when I was hanging limply in his arms, breathing heavily, I wondered if he was about to leave just as he had done last time.

Well, last time he kicked me out, but same same.

I gasped when he slid his hands under my ass, gripping me and lifting me into his big body. Logan was a monster of a warlock,

huge everywhere. Even with his pants on I could feel his long, hard length pressing into me. I wrapped my legs around his

waist, that orgasm barely taking the edge off. We had months of pent-up dreams between us, and there was no stopping what

needed to happen tonight.

“Are you spelled against pregnancy?”

Half out of my mind, I was coherent enough to answer. “Yes.” I arched against him. “Spelled and free from sexually transmitted

diseases.”

This time the rumble from his chest was primal. “I’m free also,” he said, and with that one sentence, the barrier of his pants

disappeared as he thrust inside me.

Holy goddess.

Holy fucking goddess.

I wasn’t a virgin, but Logan’s size didn’t just thrust easily, though he gave it his best shot. The burning stretch was a

torturous ecstasy, much more addictive than any substance I’d known in my life. After a minute of those slow but firm thrusts,

he was fully seated inside, a wild light burning in his eyes.

“Ready, Precious?” I wondered what would happen if I said no. Not that there was much chance of that, since I was already

nodding. “Say it,” he growled.

“Fuck me, Logan.”

The feral in his gaze spilled across the rest of him, and when he thrust it was hard and fast. His powerful body entered mine, slamming my back against the wall beside my bed, and I could do nothing but hold on, pleasure rolling over me in waves.

Once again, I barely lasted more than a few minutes before I broke apart.

Orgasms from Logan were destructive perfection, and I wondered if I’d survive the next one.

Pleasure stole my sanity for what felt like an eternity, and I barely noticed Logan dropping onto the bed. He lay back and

brought me with him to straddle either side of his powerful thighs.

I’d never had sex in this position before, but instinct lent me a helping hand, as my hips moved of their own accord. It all

came down to chasing the next orgasm and finding the place to grind against him, stimulating both my clit and pleasure points

deep inside my body.

Okay, why the fuck haven’t I had sex like this before? This might be my new favorite position.

Logan let me set the pace, his hands taking the weight of my breasts, large enough to cup them as the rough skin of his thumb

caught on my nipples. Eventually, his controlling nature kicked in, and his hands gripped my hips to hold me in place while

he thrust hard and fast, sending me into a screaming orgasm. My third, but who was counting.

Me. It was me counting.

I’d been waking for months in the midst of an orgasm, and often with his name on my lips, which made tonight surreal in more

ways than one. Familiar but also not.

Logan slowed his thrusts, and I wondered if I could lose my mind from the slow sensuous slide of his body into my still pulsing and sensitive pussy.

“Why are you haunting my dreams, Paisley Hallistar?” When he locked me in his focus like this, I couldn’t remember my fucking name, let alone answer questions. “Tell me why?”

“I don’t know,” I sobbed, unable to handle this feeling. “I can’t expl—explain it.”

Logan’s body tensed as he came, and the moment I felt the pulse of his cock, followed by his power, I couldn’t help but tumble

into that pleasure with him.

My body was spent as I slumped forward to rest against his chest, the thud of his heart under my ear comforting. He wrapped

me up, holding me close, and I wondered if all along the dreams had been trying to bring us together, to drive us out of our

minds with months of sexual frustration and need, culminating in what happened here tonight.

In my exhaustion, I drifted to the beat of his heart and pulse of his burning power, and when I woke the next morning, I was

alone. Alone and wondering if I’d dreamed all of that again.

Except, I woke in one of his hoodies. A deep green one, close in color to the moss his eyes turned when he was channeling

strong emotions. I woke surrounded by minty evergreen, with new aches between my thighs.