by Ariel Hunter
Then he stopped.
“I’ve waited too long for this to fuck you on the couch,” he said, growling as he slid back off me and stood up. He offered me a hand and I took it, breathless and more than a little needy.
“That was my favorite sleep shirt,” I said, slowly standing. The tee, or what was left of it, fell away.
I stood before him, bare breasted, goosebumps starting to trickle across my skin.
“I’ll buy you more. No promises that I won’t rip them off you.” He stared at my breasts, then bent down and cupped one in his hand. His thumb toyed with my nipple, the callouses making it harden into a tight peak. He brought his head down taking the stiff bud in his mouth, and pleasure shot through me straight between my legs. His other hand stroked down the center of my chest, all the way to my stomach, then lower. He toyed with the edge of my panties once more and when I widened my legs slightly, he hummed in approval. Callan sucked my nipple while slipping two fingers past the thin material and through my wet folds. At the first touch of his bare fingers against my clit, my body bowed. I reached up and grabbed his hair and pulling it tight. His teeth bit down, and I jumped, his two fingers using the chance to push into me.
My legs felt weak as he crooked his fingers and tapped that spot inside of me. I was almost a goner when his thumb brushed over my sensitive nub at the same time he licked my nipple.
“Callan,” I groaned, already desperate for release.
He did not give it to me.
He pulled his hand from my panties and released my breast. I opened my mouth to protest but found his lips on mine as he kissed me roughly. He reached behind me, grabbing the back of my thighs to hoist me up. Bouncing off my toes, I wrapped my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me in every way I could.
He splayed a hand on my back, keeping the other to support my weight. I wanted to beg him for it. Beg him to touch me again. Beg him to put his fingers back inside me. I ground against his bulge, desperately seeking some sort of friction for my aching clit.
He growled into my mouth, and I felt a whip of air around us as he teleported us to his bedroom. Clearly it was too far to walk. We landed on the bed, and he slammed my arms above me, pinning my hands together once more. He moved his other hand down, trailing a path down my chest, over my stomach, leading to the apex of my thighs. He rubbed his knuckles over the thin fabric of my panties, teasing the tender flesh.
He moved his mouth from mine, dragging his lips and tongue over my skin. Little nips of his teeth traced down to my breasts. He took a nipple into his mouth, circling his tongue over the taut peak, then gently biting and sucking.
I wiggled my hips, desperate for release. I couldn’t take the teasing anymore.
“Please,” I moaned. He let out a small laugh, curling his fingers around the delicate fabric and yanking hard. The rip of my panties reverberated in my ears. Nothing had ever been this hot before, and I moaned again, feeling wetter than I had been before.
Callan let go of my wrists and moved lower as I spread my legs, exposing myself to him. I just wanted him to touch me.
He grabbed my thighs, pushing them apart wider. He settled himself between my legs, burying his face in my heat. He licked me once and my hips jumped at the sensation as I gasped, grabbing the sheets. He licked me again, slowly, savoring, dragging out the moment in time so it felt like eternity. Just when I thought I couldn’t wait any longer, his tongue flicked over that sensitive nub before closing his lips around it, sucking it hard.
A deep throaty moan escaped me as my back arched, pushing myself into his face for more. A growl of approval vibrated against me and he slid a finger inside, then two, taking my clit into his mouth. He pumped in and out, the rhythm bringing me to the very edge. I stopped clawing at the sheets, instead entwining my fingers through his hair as I held him in place, grinding against his face and hand.
“Oh my god, please,” I mumbled as my legs started to shake.
A wave of ecstasy crashed into me, my canal clenching around his fingers as my back arched off the sheets. I cried out and a warmth spread through me as he kept pumping, milking every second out of my orgasm as my inner walls pulsed over and over.
“That was . . .” I said, not finishing because I didn’t know what to say to describe the sensation I had just experienced.
“The beginning,” he finished for me as he scooted down the bed, standing up to undress himself. He held my eye contact while he undid his cufflinks, pocketing them, then slowly unbuttoned his shirt. There was something incredibly erotic about my naked body on display for him while he, fully clothed, raked his eyes over mine, taking me in.
I moved to my knees, reaching for his shirt to peel it off his body. I put my hands on the hardened planes of his chest, dragging them up and over the contoured muscles of his shoulders. I dug my nails into his skin as I slid the shirt down his arms and onto the floor.
I looked into his eyes, the silence spanning between us. He didn’t say a word; he only cocked an eyebrow. He stood there unmoving, his hands to his side, letting me undress him. I reached between us, popping the button to his trousers, and pulling the zipper down. I hooked my fingers into the waist of his boxers and pants, giving a hard yank. As the last of his clothing fell the floor, his hardened length came free. I was not disappointed.
I didn’t have time to react. He grabbed the back of my neck, pulling me to his mouth in an open kiss. My hands slammed into his chest for balance as I caught my breath, feeling his tongue massage mine with his own. His other hand reached between my legs without hesitation, sticking two fingers inside and pumping, the slickness of my orgasm coating his fingers again.
I groaned in his mouth, feeling my legs weaken as they held me up. But he stopped; pulling them out.
“What—” I started. I didn’t need to finish. He moved his hand to his mouth, sucking one finger, never breaking my stare. “Oh . . .” I breathed.
“Tasting you again,” he answered after he pulled it out. He reached down, grabbing the backs of my thighs, and hoisted me up so he could lay me on the bed.
I widened my legs to him as he settled on top of me, supporting his weight with his arms on either side of me. His tip pressed against my opening, teasing me. He knew it. I angled my hips up, putting pressure to my clit as I rubbed myself against his cock.
“You are greedy,” he said, pushing back, giving me just enough friction.
“I think you mean needy,” I said breathlessly.
A deep rumble sounded in his chest, and he reached between us to guide himself into me.
He rubbed against my slit, coating himself before pushing past my wet folds. He went slowly, his girth stretching me as he slid in. I bit my lip and moaned, closing my eyes, and breathing deeply as he filled me up.
“Oh my god, yes,” I said, my voice husky. I reached between us and rubbed my clit in tight circles. Then he slammed into me and I cried out in pain and pleasure.
I held his shoulder and ground my hips against him as he pumped in and out. A tingling sensation shot through my body, and I rubbed faster, feeling my orgasm build as he kept his steady pace. Tight flutters began to quiver as I started to tip over, and he pulled out.
“No, no, no,” I said, whimpering. He got to his knees, moving to the side as he got off the bed. He grabbed my legs, pulling hard until I reached edge, my ass nearly hanging off.
Callan pushed my legs aside, spreading me wide. He smacked my inner thighs with a quick tap that made me yelp. It sent an electric shot of pleasure straight to my core, surprising me with how much I liked the feel.
Before the sting could subside, he thrust into me, and I cried out again, a deep guttural sound. Callan rubbed my clit, and I gripped the sheets as he pounded into me, my breasts bouncing with each movement. My legs began to quake, and I could feel the flutters return as I moved my hand, pinching a nipple between my fingers and squeezing.
“I can feel you getting tighter,” he said, keeping his rhyt
hmic pace.
I hummed in response.
“Who does this belong to?” he growled, smacking my clit.
I screamed, the sensation sending shockwaves through my body, ramping me up even more. I twisted the hardened bud as I moved my other hand to squeeze my breast. “Please . . . I’m so close.”
My canal spasmed, just on the verge, but Callan slowed his pace, only a fraction. It was enough.
“Say it,” he said, slowing his circles on my throbbing clit. “Who does it belong to?” He pressed the pad of his finger into that bundle of nerves, pushing it down.
“Fuck,” I ground out. “It’s yours. I’m yours,” I cried.
Callan grinned. “That’s right. You’re mine.” He slammed into me hard, pumping fast as he reached a hand up, wrapping it around my throat and squeezing. A whine escaped me as he cut off my air. The nerve endings in my fingers and toes felt tingles. Tiny sparks of pinks crackled out from my fingertips. My legs started shaking as he pounded into me, taking my clit between his fingers and pinching. My eyes started to roll back as a familiar sensation coursed through my body.
I came undone. My inner walls spasmed, gripping his cock inside me. Stars exploded behind my eyes, the lack of oxygen intensifying the magnitude of my orgasm as it poured from me. Wave after wave, I rode them out, and he let go of my neck. I gasped, returning to reality as he found his release with his final thrusts.
My heart was racing, and my breathing was ragged. My canal twitched around him, aftershocks sending little shots of pleasure through my veins.
He leaned over me, his breathing just as unsteady as my own. We stared at each other; the silence between us didn’t seem so loud anymore.
Movement caught my attention from the corner of my eye. I turned to look at the nightstand, and I saw two tiny golden eyes staring back at me.
In Callan’s bedroom.
Zilla was watching us, his little head cocked to side.
“Dude, what are you doing?” I asked. “Go away.”
Zilla turned his head to the other side, then started bobbing his body up in down in a rigid motion.
“Isn’t that a . . . lizard mating ritual?” Callan asked.
“Oh my god, Zilla,” I yelled. “Get out of here, you little weirdo!” I reached for anything I could to throw at him, but he scurried down the side of the bed and I heard his little claws click against the floor as he left.
I scrubbed my hands over my face and laughed. “Fucking lizard.”
Chapter 24
Callan held my hand as we appeared in the teleport lobby of the Council of Witches Chambers. They had called for an audience with us. Granted, their tone had been much different than previous times they had called me before them, but there was still the hint of discipline to be expected.
The past few days at Callan’s home—our home—had been quite enjoyable. We had surfed (and windsurfed) and had plenty of time to enjoy each other in the sheets. Otherwise, Callan had been scouring his books, looking for more information about the Collector’s method of magical transfusion and how he had been able to get away with it for so long. I had even helped him some of the time, though I wasn’t quite sure what I was looking for, either. I had shown him the handwritten spell book, the one that contained necromancy, that Trent had dropped on my book that day he had come to Dimlight. Callan had looked the pages over with some concern.
The Council had not sent us an update about the mission to apprehend the Collector and I could tell that this worried Callan. If they had succeeded in capturing him, it would seem like they would tell us that there was nothing to worry about. Instead, the distinct lack of information had resulted in Callan reinforcing his wards, setting new ones when we surfed, and even improving the wards at my parents’ home and Anya’s place.
Now, as we set foot in the Council Chambers, I wondered what we might be in for. Surely, honesty was the least we deserved.
All the head Council members were present, except my Uncle Wyatt, of course. He was being held at an undisclosed location, which I assumed meant he was taken to Nakara. My mom smiled at me, while the others kept their faces rather blank.
“Hello, Ms. McTavish and Mr. Edwards. Thank you for joining us,” Josie said. “We have agreed that Mr. Edwards may remain as your Mystic and that you can continue your training with the Seer coven.”
I tried to hide the smile. I hadn’t realized that either of those issues were still up for debate, and had they been, I had fully intended to go against either of those rulings that would counter those decisions. They just couldn’t let go of their illusion of control.
“We must make sure you are better trained. No matter what happened to you at the hands of the Collector, and sadly, as a result of the traitorous acts of one of our own Council members and a trusted member of your own family, we must continue to ensure the safety of the witching world.” Josie looked like she was going to continue, but Callan held up his hand.
“I’d like to focus on the propositions we bring before you now, Paragon. We’ve been trying it your way, following the direction of your rulings, as misguided at they may be. As you just stated, one of your head Council warlocks was the one who captured Marnie and took her to the Collector. This is reprehensible. It shows a level of infiltration into the ranks of the Council that make all of you suspect. As a loyal member of the witching community, head professor at Dimlight—and frankly, as the only gold warlock amongst us—it is my opinion that trusting the Council has become problematic and could lead to potentially dangerous outcomes. Therefore, we will be setting the terms of Marnie’s further training. Informing you is a polite courtesy. We will make every effort to train her effectively and wisely. But you no longer have a say in the matter. Not until you have seen to your own house.”
Josie and Hiram shifted in their seats. The other Council members murmured amongst themselves, some of them looking away with shock and anger.
Josie cleared her throat. “And what are these terms, Mr. Edwards?”
“Marnie will have me as her Mystic, as you so respectfully approved, as though you presumed to have a say in this anymore. She will continue to work with the Seer coven, as she is a gifted Seer. You have no governance over them and never will. Nor will you ever learn any details about her training. You will never lean on her, myself, or her mother or father to ask what she is learning in her Seer training. That is not your privilege.” Josie’s lips made a thin line, but she nodded slightly. Callan then gestured to me to take over speaking.
“I’m no longer attending Dimlight. I think all the students and Mystics will be relieved by this. Not only will it be better for my own training, it’ll allow me to return to some semblance of the life you had originally promised me in the first agreement you broke. My fascination with the human world, as you have mockingly called it. I have powers that are too far beyond the structure of Dimlight’s courses. I’ll have accelerated coursework with Callan, and with any other witch or warlock that he would like to include in my independent studies.” The Paragons nodded again.
“Anything else?” Josie asked, her voice terse.
“This goes without saying, but this Council clearly doesn’t give a shit about violating my rights, keeping agreements, or respecting anything about me. Now that I have said it, understand this: you will not track my magic ever again. If you have a question about something that happens, you can go through the appropriate channels and not use threats. Just ask. But note, your inquiry doesn’t guarantee you an answer. You do not own me. You don’t have a right to me, or my magic.” I held Josie’s glare as her eyes narrowed at me.
She turned to Hiram, who appeared visibly tense. The Council leaned in to speak together, the mumbled whispers were rushed and angry.
The members returned their attention to us, and Josie said, “We agree to these conditions, though I do want to stress that you will be held to the same standard as any learning student, Ms. McTavish. If you endanger the witching world, you and your Mystic will be held a
ccountable.”
I sighed as the Paragon Witch spoke, angling her long finger at me. Josie just couldn’t help but get a threat in. She had to feel like she had some semblance of control. I couldn’t stop myself from smirking at her, the look on my face clearly unaffected by her declaration.
“Does this mean you will be moving forward with the arranged marriage, Ms. McTavish, if you are keeping Mr. Edwards as your Mystic? I seem to recall that has been your strongest sticking point against being part of the witching world. It has been your disdain for this particular tradition,” Hiram said.
I looked at Callan. His jaw was set firmly, as if he could bear whatever response I might have. He looked at me with curious eyes. The past few days had been great . . . but we hadn’t discussed this. He had no idea where I stood.
I turned to the Council. “My disdain for this particular tradition is that you presume to remove my choice. As I have stated, you will not control me any longer.” I waited in silence, staring the Council down as they looked to each other, a few dipping their heads, conceding to my silent demand to have that removed from their expectations of me. No matter what Josie wanted to pretend, they knew they couldn’t make me marry him.
“Very well,” Hiram said, frustration coloring his voice. “Then I suppose—”
“That being said, I have chosen Callan as my fiancé.”
No one seemed more surprised by this than Callan, but instead of making some big spectacle of it—he simply took my hand and gave my knuckles a slow, reverent kiss that promised many things to come when we were back home and not in front of watching eyes.
I quivered a bit, butterflies rushing through my chest. I would be his, and it was my choice.
“Fine. We will need more details about that, then, as you are a powerful match. Thank you for preserving the power lineage of the witching race. We will wait until your magic is ready, of course.” Josie sounded bored, now, her every whim being overruled.