Chapter 25
Cairn
THIS WITCH WILL BE THE death of me. At this moment, I know this to be an irrefutable fact.
But I also know that I’d go peacefully into the dark, knowing she’s the one who sent me there. Though I’d really like to fuck her first.
“So, stretch me,” she says. And I about cum right there, all over her as she reclines on my kitchen table, the sweater she’s wearing pulled up just far enough that I can see her pussy, pink and already slick with wetness.
“It’s not that easy,” I say, but I’m losing this battle. She’s already got me naked in my kitchen, with a raging hard-on that’s begging to be touched.
“Cairn,” she says, voice low and edged with irritation. “I really want you to fuck me. Do you want that too?”
I narrow my eyes and flex my fingers into fists. Slowly, I say, “Yes.”
“And it order to do so, you have to prepare me. Stretch me. Is that right?”
Goddess, the way she says that makes my dick jump.
“Yes,” I say again.
With the firelight dancing in her crimson eyes, she pulls the sweater up a little farther, revealing her hips and low belly. “Then I want you to do it.”
My heart wants to burst out of my rib cage and gallop around the room. I’m not supposed to even think of her this way, yet somehow, she’s got me stepping forward and taking hold of her thighs, sliding her to the edge of my kitchen table.
Witchcraft. It’s got to be witchcraft. They teach charms classes here, and potions classes. Maybe she spiked those cupcakes she gave me. Maybe this is all a spell.
And maybe I should just stop overthinking it and touch her.
“It won’t be comfortable,” I whisper, trailing my fingers down the inside of her thigh.
Her skin pebbles beneath my touch, her eyelids fluttering closed.
“Speak for yourself,” she mumbles.
“I’m serious, Lyra. For you to be able to take me, we’re going to have to work at this.” To prove how serious I am, I line the head of my cock up at her wet opening and push, just a little.
Her eyes flash open, and she looks down between her thighs. My head isn’t even close to being able to fit inside her; that’s how much work we have ahead of us.
“Well,” she says softly, lying back on the table and looking up at me with smoldering eyes. “You’d better get started, then.” As if to prove how serious she is, she spreads her legs a bit wider for me, letting her knees fall open, giving me full access to her wet pink pussy.
And finally, I can resist her no longer.
Spell or not, she’s caught me in her web, and I’ll do whatever she wants.
Slowly, I guide my fingers from her inner thigh to the top of her mound, where her bright red hair has been trimmed short. Using the pad of my thumb, I sweep across her clit, and she jerks her hips in response.
“Try to relax,” I tell her. “Don’t tighten up.”
Her eyes meet mine, and she gives me a little nod.
I press the pad of my thumb to her clit again, rubbing it, deep and slow. It throbs, growing larger as a flush creeps up her neck and into her freckled cheeks. Then I move my fingers lower, slipping through her wet folds. And when I find her slick entrance, I push one finger inside.
She moans.
I push my finger in deeper, then pull it back out, working her until she softens.
Then I add another. My fingers are thick, and a tiny gasp escapes her as I ease the second one in and begin fucking her with both.
My other hand finds her clit, and I rub it, making her wetter, making my fingers slide easier.
“Is that,” she pants, “it?”
A chuckle slips out of me. “We’ve barely gotten started, witch.”
Eyes meeting mine, she says, “Then do it already.”
“Always in such a rush.” I break eye contact and focus on her pussy again. “Relax,” I remind her. “This might hurt.”
I pull my fingers out of her and replace them with both my thumbs.
Then I begin pulling my thumbs apart, stretching her pussy to its limits, making her gasp before I let off for a few seconds, then stretch her again.
I stare at her as I work, cock throbbing each time her pussy opens before me, just begging me to push inside.
When I’ve finished stretching her side to side, I readjust my thumbs, pushing them a bit deeper, making her whimper beautifully as I work to stretch her up and down.
Her pussy continues to leak with moisture, and her chest rises and falls beneath my sweater, her breathing coming in rapid pants. Eventually, I look up from between her thighs and ask, “Are you . . . enjoying this?”
She doesn’t respond in words, only little mumbles and moans.
Maybe that’s enough for her first time. And maybe now I just want to watch her cum.
I remove my thumbs and replace them with two fingers.
As I push them in and out of her, my other hand finds her clit again.
It’s swollen, enlarged to the point that one brush from my fingertips sends her writhing on the table.
So I touch it more gently, putting gentle pressure on it.
Beneath the pad of my finger, I can feel it throb, can feel each beat of her heart.
“More,” she whispers.
I arch a brow, surprised and impressed. Okay, I’ll give her more.
I add one more finger, and it’s a tight fit, almost impossible to get all three fingers inside her.
She starts moaning then, the sound building as I sink my fingers inside her and rub her clit with a featherlight touch. Her back arches off the table, knees shaking. Inside her, I curl my fingers, massaging her slick insides.
And with a gasp, she cums for me.
It’s wet and beautiful and so much better than I anticipated. She soaks my hand, her pussy walls clenching my fingers as her clit throbs beneath my touch. Pink lips open, she pants and moans, freckles crinkling as she squeezes her eyes closed.
With every thrust of my fingers inside her, I have to tell myself that I can’t fuck her yet, no matter how badly I need to at this very moment.
She’d get hurt, and I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt her.
And her pleasure is more important than mine.
I can jerk off later—with the sound of her moans and the memory of her pussy around my fingers, it certainly wouldn’t take much.
But the witch surprises me, as she so often does.
When she’s done cumming, she pushes herself into a seated position on the table.
Her hair, still slightly damp from the rain, sticks to her cheeks, which sparkle with light perspiration.
She’s breathing hard, trying to catch her breath.
And she gives me a small coy smile before taking my cock in both her hands and starting to stroke it again.
“You don’t have to,” I tell her. But she just smiles more.
And then she leans forward to lick the precum from my tip. And I’m as good as a dead man.