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Bo

“I think you could get me there, Bo.”

This beautiful witch speaks like I’m something special.

Someone special.

As if I can do for her what no one else can.

Mor gazes up at me with such trust, such wanting, that I’m not able to manage a response at first.

Yes!

my mind roars loudly, but the bellow doesn’t reach my throat.

I’m too bowled over by the possibility that this smart, sexy, powerful woman could want me.

I’m not used to being wanted.

Mor seems to sense this, giving me the time I need to absorb her words, even as her breaths are heavy pants and her pupils are blown wide.

“Me?” I mutter eventually.

“You’re sure?”

“You.” She nods once, driving home the point.

“Then I’m yours.” Destroy me if you wish .

At her hand, I don’t think I’d mind.

Mor grasps my hand and tugs me toward the bed.

I didn’t want the window reveal to be ruined by plastic sheeting everywhere, so I made sure to clear out all signs of this having been a work zone and remade the mattress with clean linens.

“Sit down,” she directs me.

I hurriedly follow my orders, though I’m half distracted by Mor’s movements.

She pulls her sweater over her head, revealing the mouthwatering mounds of her breasts.

Fuck, I want to cradle them, find her nipples and tease them.

As if hearing my thoughts, she strips her bra next, revealing a set of areolas as rosy as the witch smells.

Her black leggings go next, leaving lace stretched over a meaty ass I long to dig my fingers into and knead.

“Lie back on the bed, Bo,” she directs me, pointing at the pillows I’ve longed to sink into ever since that first night where my drunken self didn’t fully appreciate the honor of sleeping in her bed.

The mattress springs squeak when I drop onto the bed, and I drag myself back until I’m braced against the headboard.

With the best view of her crawling toward me, tits swaying.

“Mor.” Her name is a choked growl.

All need.

And lucky me, I get to watch a flush overcome the skin of her neck and chest.

She kneels beside me, captures my hand as I reach for her, and instead guides my hand to my already-hardening cock.

She encourages my strokes, and I revel in the direction from her soft hand.

“I have a contraceptive tattoo.” Mor’s voice is lower than normal, husky in a way that makes the back of my spine tingle and tighten.

“Do you mind not using a condom?”

“Mind?” I grunt as her grip tightens.

“No. Gods, I just want to feel you.”

She tilts her chin up, moving her gaze from my erection to meet my eyes.

“I want to feel you too, Bo.”

Wreck me.

She will wreck me.

But that doesn’t stop me from bracing her hips as she slings a leg over mine.

With one hand on my shoulder and the other reaching between us to grasp my cock, Mor lowers until my tip kisses her folds.

A wretched groan tears through me at this simple touch.

This careful approach she has to fucking me.

Nothing like the quick exchanges Georgiana and I had in the woods, where I could feel her need to move fast before she second-guessed her choice.

No, Mor is precise. She’s thoughtful.

She’s using my hard cock to stroke her clit, little gasps accompanying the movement.

“Gods,” she moans. “Bless The Dark One. This feels so good. How do you feel so good, Bo?”

“I don’t know.” And the truth of those words lends them a desperate edge.

I don’t know why Mor wants me.

Why I’m the one her body responds to.

If I did know, I’d make sure to lean into it.

But all I can do is let her use me how she likes and hopefully learn how to keep her close.

“I’m going to put you in,” she tells me, and I nod too many times in response.

The first inch threatens to undo me.

The rest leave me sure I’ve died and ended up in a pleasure realm.

“Gods, I can feel how good it is for you,” she pants while bracing a palm in the middle of my chest. “You’re glowing with it.”

My emotional grid, she must mean.

At first, I was wary of her power, but soon realized that anything I feel, I’m happy to share with her.

I hope she can see my aura now.

Hope she knows this moment is transformative for me.

Then the witch sways her hips, and I bark with the spike of pleasure that shoots through my limbs.

“Gods. Mor. Again. Please.”

“Touch me,” she commands as she keeps up her rhythm.

Her breasts are heavy weights in my palms, and I love the velvety texture of her skin, contrasted with the tight points of her nipples.

I stroke my thumbs over them.

Then I lean in to suck one.

Mor gasps, plunging her fingers into my hair and holding me to her.

Her taste is earthy, tinged with sweat, and I feast on the sensations of being buried deep inside her while also dragging her into my mouth, all the while listening to her whisper my name.

“My clit, baby. Touch my clit.”

The words are whimpers.

But one of them spears me.

The endearment. A sweet little word.

She called me baby.

I let her nipple pop free to meet her needy gaze.

“Say it again,” I growl, so overwhelmed by lust and longing that I sound angry.

But Mor understands.

“Baby.” Her fingers comb through my hair.

“Stroke my clit. Make me come.”

Yes.

Fuck yes. I’ll be the one to give her this.

The only one who has.

My touch tracks down over her soft belly, dives through her crimson curls, and slips under the little hood that hides her pleasure center.

“I’ll give you anything,” I promise her, wishing there were more to me to offer.

But if she wants my soul, hell, it’s hers.

“You, baby.” Her eyes go half lidded with my strokes, and she leans in to kiss me deep.

When our lips part, she sighs, “I want you.”

Then a sob spills from her throat, and I can feel Mor’s body flutter, then grip mine hard with her orgasm.

She keens, and I growl in triumph, gripping her hips again to guide her up and down my length, fucking her as she rides the ecstasy.

Milking myself until I reach the crest.

“Gods!” I shout, my balls emptying into the witch, the space between us slick with both our pleasure.

“Gods,” I gasp again as I collapse back, Mor a puddle of spent woman on my chest.

We lie there for a time, our breathing eventually slowing into a matching rhythm.

Sunlight filters through the skylight, casting rose petals across Mor’s back.

I want to see her like this every day.

I want to fix the things that break around her.

I want her to call me baby.

Worry creeps in.

What if this is like the last time?

What if this was just a fuck for her?

“Bo?” Mor’s voice pulls my focus down to hers.

She has her chin resting on my chest, eyes on my face.

My softening cock still inside her channel.

“You’re mustards.”

“I’m … what?”

Her lips tilt in a rueful smirk.

“Your aura. There’s a bit of mustard brown.” Her lips flatten.

“You’re anxious. Did I do something wrong?”

“No. No.” I emphasize the word when I catch a flash of doubt in her eyes.

“Mor, I … I’m worried this is all you’ll want. That you and me … that there won’t be a you and me.”

She blinks, then rises up on her elbows and studies me, still making no move to disconnect our bodies.

And with her glorious tits on display, my cock is trying its best to harden a second time.

“How would you feel about being my boyfriend, Bo?”

Hope.

Joy. Want. Need.

They crash through me in what must be a storm of colors I belatedly realize Mor can see.

And her response is to grin, lean in close, and brush her lips across mine.

“You like that … baby?”

This time, I groan and give an involuntary thrust of my hips, half-hard cock wanting to go another round.

Mor places gentle kisses along my cheeks and nose and jaw, ending at my ear.

“What you want, Bo? I want it too.”