28
KYLO
I could gaze between Evie’s thighs for an eternity. At her impossibly pretty pussy, but also at her shocked, adorable face staring down at me. The sight of her gagged and bound had my cock straining in my pants.
I wanted to bury myself inside her until I saw those beautiful, delicious tears fall down her rosy cheeks. I wanted to overwhelm her with pain and pleasure until she was nothing but putty in my hands—a messy, needy puddle kneeling at my feet.
When my lips brushed just above her clit, she shuddered. Those usually feisty legs were perfectly still and spread, almost as if she feared accidentally using her safe word by kicking me.
So fucking cute.
So fucking mine .
My mouth closed over her bud, and she moaned into her shadow gag. I gently sucked, and the taste of her had me both drunk and starving at the same time.
She was perfect, everything I’d ever wanted—but there wasn’t nearly enough of her inside me, nor enough of me inside her.
I wouldn’t stop breaking Evie’s defenses until I was burrowed so deeply inside her walls that she had no hope of ever escaping my hold over her body, mind, and soul.
My tongue swirled over her clit before sliding down her seam to taste her center. I circled that tight little hole, savoring every inch of her.
“Your pussy is perfect,” I said, and she shuddered. “And I was right. I fear I’ve already lost my appetite for any other taste than you for the rest of eternity.”
I let my words hum against her sensitive flesh. I hoped they penetrated her protective fortress. I wanted to undo everything men had taught her before me. I needed her to understand how addictive she was, how worthy of pleasure and adoration. It turned me on to know I’d be the first and only man to satisfy her, that I would ruin her for all others.
This time when my mouth closed over her bud, those legs started to shake again for me—overcome with pleasure. I sucked and pulsed in a way that had her unraveling against me. Evie’s arousal coated my mouth, my face, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Drowning in her would be an honor.
I knew that my mask had turned her on, but even more surprising was the way my dagger had a similar effect on her heart and breathing. It had been the same when I’d threatened her with the kitchen knife.
Though, it shouldn’t have surprised me at all, really. Because my perfect, innocent little angel was made for me. And that meant that no matter what lies dripped from her tongue, her pussy would always tell me the truth.
She loved my violence.
My power, my shadows, my depraved games and wickedness—they made her feel alive after a lifetime of hiding.
I worshipped her pussy the way it deserved, reveling in the way she finally let go. She came on my tongue violently, as if against her will. But I didn’t relent, even as she cried into her gag and struggled beneath me. I extracted another orgasm from her, and then another, and I didn’t stop until she was limp and useless, and I was drenched in her.
“Good girl,” I praised, kissing her clit and laughing when she made a muffled shriek of protest. “Calm down, baby. I’m finished playing with you.”
I withdrew my shadows from her wrists and mouth.
“For now,” I amended.
I watched her flushed face, the way she stared up at me in wonder.
I let my mask recede, concentrating my power on the correct sigil to activate my human glamour.
Evie slowly pulled her wrists back down to her side as she gazed into my eyes, her breathing beginning to even out.
“Well?” I asked.
She was still deep in a submissive headspace, likely struggling to form words. Which made it even more fun to force her to speak.
“I didn’t know that anything could… feel that way,” she mumbled.
I smiled with satisfaction, then slid her dress back into place before laying on my back and guiding Evie to rest her head on my chest.
“To think that was only a drop in the ocean of pleasure that awaits you,” I murmured. “Thank you for trusting me enough to be so vulnerable.”
“I don’t trust you,” she whispered, but it came out endearingly small and unconvincing.
“Whatever you say.”
In direct opposition to her claims, Evie nestled her leg between mine, relaxing into my hold as she wrapped herself around me. The move did something to my heart that I didn’t think was possible, not since I’d forsaken my humanity.
I kissed the top of her head before staring back up at the clear blue sky.
“Tell me about your world, Evie,” I whispered.
I said it evenly, like a calm command. But beneath my layers of impenetrability, I was desperate.
“Don’t you already know everything about my world?” she muttered.
“I only know the surface, what I can understand with my physical senses.” I slowly ran my hand through her soft blonde hair. When she relaxed deeper, I felt like I was fulfilling my deepest purpose. “I want to hear about the other world—the one I can’t see. The world of your mind, the world of your magick.”
Her heart picked up slightly.
I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until she finally spoke.
“Okay.”
I smiled, staying silent as she decided what and how much to tell me.
“This layer of reality is only the surface, like you said,” she began. She cleared her throat, her nervous heart pounding now. “The otherworld is vast, too multifaceted to fully comprehend, even as a witch. Everything in the physical has its corresponding spirits, entities, and energies attached. It’s like a field with all these overlapping webs. I think most beings assume that a witch’s job is to harness power from these sources and use them to exert our will, but that’s a very ineffective way to practice witchcraft.”
The more she spoke, the more she relaxed, as if she were floating out of her fear and into the realm of inspiration and purpose. It warmed my heart. I continued to offer her gentle, reassuring touch.
“The most powerful magick is a collaboration. It’s not about taking power, it’s about asking for it . I don’t strong-arm spirits and energies into helping me. I give offerings, I forge relationships, and I’m intentional about who I ask to sit at my table. Just like in business and politics, the most long-lasting and impactful sources of influence are the kind gained from time, experience, and most importantly, allies . Without reciprocal relationships built from care and respect, we’re swimming upstream.”
The frightened girl on the run had receded. And in her place was this intelligent, thoughtful woman who talked about magick like it was her home, her family.
“Magick is falling in love,” she said softly, “with this unseen world and its inhabitants. Most witches only interact with certain powers, unable to see the entirety of the spiritual field. Chaos witches are lucky. We can see it all. We can choose which relationships to forge, and we’re—” She cleared her throat. “We’re never alone.”
My hand halted in her hair. I could listen to her speak for hours.
“Kiss me, please,” I said.
Evie slowly raised her head up. As soon as she hovered over me, I grabbed her face and locked my lips with hers. I wanted to taste that sense of love and wonder on her tongue. I wanted to feel her mortal devotion to the ethereal, to beauty and truth and powers greater than herself.
What fierce bravery.
I released her and stared into those wide gray eyes. “You are incredible, and you should be proud of the person you have become. I know that being this unique has come at a price. I’m sure it’s made you feel terribly lonely.”
Evie’s face fell. She was vulnerable, unsure. Yet those eyes sparked with hope—like she recognized me as the mirror of her own soul.
“But I hope you can one day look back on that loneliness with gratitude. Because without it, you wouldn’t have fallen so deeply in love with your magick. You wouldn’t have read so much, learned so much, evolved into the perfect expression of divinity that you are.”
Her lip trembled, and I kissed her again, soft and brief.
“You wouldn’t be this bright, powerful, indescribable force in a world that tries very hard to kill off anything different, anything special.”
“I’m not special,” she protested, even as those hopeful eyes betrayed her.
“Be grateful for the loneliness that has made you who you are,” I said, ignoring her lie. “But know that you don’t have to live in solitude anymore. There are others who see the world as you do. There are others who stood at the crossroads of greatness and mediocrity and made their necessary sacrifices.”
I stroked her cheek, watching her process my words. “I know you have your otherworld for company, but you’re not alone in this world, either.”
She examined me as if scanning for threats, her angelic features raw with emotion. “You were once lonely?”
“Of course,” I whispered. “I was lonely for a long time.”
We were both silent for a moment. Birds chirped, and the wind feathered against our skin. A strand of Evie’s hair swept into her face, and I carefully tucked it back behind her ear.
She lay back down on my chest. “Do you have a family?”
“Yes, I do. The family I was born to is dead,” I said. “I loved my parents, but they were distant. They wanted me to be someone I wasn’t, and they never cared to learn who I truly was. We never shared a deep emotional bond. We stayed at the surface, where they were most comfortable.” I paused. “I have a new family now.”
I could feel Evie tightening back up. But she made no move to take off. “Does your new family love you the way your parents’ couldn’t?”
My lips curved. This precious girl. I wanted to kiss her again, to keep cracking through her shield until she was bare and exposed before me.
“Yes,” I said. “I now have bonds that run deeper than blood. We cannot love and be loved by everyone, not in that deep, enduring way. But there are a few I’ve let completely in, and those are friendships I will nurture until the end.”
I listened to the sound of her breathing. I could nearly hear her thoughts milling about, bumping into each other, growing so adorably tangled.
“My work abides by the same philosophy as yours, little witch,” I murmured. “Reciprocity, mutual respect, strong alliances. Violence is necessary, but violence alone did not get me where I am today. And it sure as hell isn’t what earns me the respect of my city.”
“Your city , ” she scoffed. “Don’t you mean your clan?”
“Nope.”
She huffed. “The ego .”
“You love my ego.”
Her fist clenched where it rested on my torso. Her heart stuttered, and I relished the effect I had on her. Only twenty-four years old. She was so young—so beautifully idealistic no matter how hard she’d tried to stamp that quality out.
“I love nothing about you,” she stammered.
I imagined how red her cheeks were right now. I needed to see them.
“Hush, angel. I hate when you lie to me.” I quickly pinned her underneath me and kissed each of her flushed cheeks. “Time to get up. Our date has only just begun.”