Chapter 36

Chapter 36

A lastair groaned into their kiss, moving even closer to pin Fey between the wall and his body, crushing her against him.

Every thought in Fey's head vanished as she felt his body against hers. She wanted to touch him, needed to touch him.

Her hands moved from his hair and down his chest, feeling hard muscle beneath the silk of his dress shirt.

Not enough .

Alastair's tongue danced with hers as she fumbled with his buttons, finally getting his shirt open enough to run her hands along his skin. He was perfect, all smooth skin taut over muscle, no scars, no sigils. Her hands slid lower, over his stomach. Lower, over his hips. Lower…

Alastair hissed when she gripped him through the fabric of his pants, pulling back from their kiss a fraction to curse. But it still wasn't enough for Fey. She craned her head up to capture his mouth again, and he kissed her back even harder than before, nipping at her lips with his teeth. Her fingers worked swiftly, unlatching his belt and pulling his zipper down, releasing him.

When she wrapped her hand around his cock, marveling at the thickness, he threw his head back and groaned .

" Fuck , Fey,"

His skin is like silk , she thought as she trailed her fingers up the length of him, feeling him twitch under her light touch. A bead of precum glistened at his tip, and the sight of it made Fey dizzy with desire. She gripped him again, wrapping her fingers around the base of him, and he groaned, his hips rocking forward, thrusting into her hand.

Before she could explore his body further, Alastair crushed her back against the wall, knocking her hand away and reaching between them for her clothing. The laces of her pants melted away under his quick fingers, and Alastair pushed her hips back as he slipped his hand under the soft leather fabric of her pants to touch her.

Fey's head rolled back, and she gasped as his fingers slipped down her center. Her hands rose to grip the back of his neck, twisting her hips to give him access.

" Fuck ," Alastair hissed, his breath hot against her neck, his lips brushing against her too-sensitive skin and making her shiver. "You're already so wet for me, aren't you Witchling?"

She didn't have a chance to respond before he pushed one long finger inside her, and all she could do was moan in answer.

"Such a good Witch," he whispered in her ear, adding a second finger and making her back arch against the wall. "Always so wet for me."

His palm pressed against her as he fucked her with his hand, rubbing her clit while he moved his fingers inside her. It was too much already, and when he used his other hand to lift her, spreading her legs and raising her thigh to his hip so his fingers could curl deeper inside her, she lost it.

Fey bit into her bottom lip to keep from screaming as she came, her hips rolling against his hand as she chased each wave of her orgasm. By the time she came down from her peak, she was gasping, fighting to catch her breath. Still, she whimpered at the loss when he pulled his fingers from her throbbing pussy.

Alastair brought his hand up to his face and licked the two fingers that had been inside her. "I love this taste," he told her. "You're the best thing I've ever tasted, Fey. "

He moved so quickly that Fey had no time to react. One minute, she was pinned between him and the wall, pressed against him with one leg wrapped around his hip, and the next minute he spun her around, pushing her face and upper body into the wall and yanking her pants down to reveal her ass.

His hands gripped her hips, adjusting her until her back arched, and she had to press her hands against the wall to balance herself. His fingertips trailed across her pussy again, then continued up the curve of her backside, over her ass and back toward?—

Fey whimpered when Alastair's fingers stopped against the puckered skin of her ass. He circled her hole with fingertips still drenched from her pussy, slick against her entrance, and chuckled darkly as she trembled under his touch.

"Not tonight, Witchling," he said, fingers circling her hole again, teasing.

Fey's entire body quivered as his fingers moved away, and he gripped her hips hard enough to bruise. She felt him line up with her entrance, felt the tip of his cock press against her pussy, and it was an effort not to push back against him.

When they'd fucked before in his office, he'd entered her slowly, letting her adjust inch by inch to the impossible size of him. He didn't enter her slowly, tonight. With one powerful thrust, he filled her, pushing his cock inside her to the hilt.

Fey's back arched even more, and her head tipped back away from the wall as she screamed, equal parts shock and pleasure. She'd never felt so full, so stretched open, and it was a wonderful agony having him fill her like this.

Alastair's hand immediately clasped over her mouth.

"Shhhhhh," he whispered into her ear. "You're the one who didn't want us to be overheard." His fingers were still slick from her pussy and his saliva, and his hand was damp on her face. She moaned loudly into it as he started to move his hips, his other arm snaking around her chest to pull her back against him as he moved inside her.

"If you're not quiet, you're going to get us caught," he chided, rolling his hips, and tightening his grip on her. "Unless that's what you want?" His voice was a caress against the soft skin of her neck, and the slow steady rhythm of his cock moving inside her was overwhelming. He peppered impossibly light kisses across her skin as he whispered to her. "Do you want us to get caught, little Witchling? Do you want someone to come by and hear you?"

Fey couldn't think, couldn't breathe, she was nothing but raw energy, every nerve of her body on fire with the things he was doing to her. His pace increased, and she could feel her body tightening in response, rising to another peak.

"I think you do want to get caught," he whispered into her skin, and she could feel his lips curving against her into a smile. "What a dirty girl you are, Fey."

It was lucky he still had his hand over her mouth, lucky he gripped her hard enough that she couldn't even open her mouth to draw a proper breath. Because this time, when she came, she came hard enough that the scream she could have made would have brought every guard in the city running.

She shuddered in his grip, her body convulsing over and over as he moved inside her.

"Holy shit," he whispered, finally taking his hand from her mouth as she shuddered weakly for the final time. "You are so fucking perfect, Fey."

His hips started to move faster, harder, as he chased his pleasure. "So fucking perfect," he whispered again, burying his face in the space between her shoulder and her neck and shuddering his release. Fey arched back against him, loving the feel of it, loving the way he held her even tighter as he filled her.

His hands loosened around her slightly, after, and they both fought to catch their breath. Fey licked her lips, shocked at how intense that had been, how good he had felt. She'd thought maybe their first time had been a fluke, but?—

" FUCK, " Alastair snarled, slamming his hand against the wall above her head. "A fucking BED. "

Startled, Fey pulled away slightly, tilting her head back and to the side to look up at him. His face was contorted with anger, eyes clenched, and fangs bared .

"Alastair?" she asked.

"I couldn't take five fucking minutes to find a bed ," he snarled, palm pressed flat against the wall. "I fucked you on a desk, and now against a wall, when you deserve a fucking bed ."

Fey couldn't help it. She laughed, her hand coming up to cover her face as she did so.

"It's not funny," he insisted, opening his eyes to look at her.

Fey wiggled away from him and turned to face him. He was leaning against the wall, arm braced above her, and the way his body was curved above hers, almost protective, made her feel… safe.

"Well," she said, reaching up to push his hair out of his eyes. It had been well-styled, brushed back in a coif before, but now? Now it was a mess. And she found herself liking it better this way. "You'll just have to make it up to me, then. Good thing you know someone who lives here, and knows where all the free beds are, isn't it?"

His lips curved up into a smile. "Oh, yeah?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

She smirked back at him, pulling her pants back up over her hips. "Yeah," she purred. Alastair straightened, tucking himself back into his pants and attempting to button his shirt. "So, why don't we?—"

Voices in the hallway. Fey froze, but Alastair's smile grew even wider and more wicked, his golden eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Uh oh," he whispered. "We better be quiet, Witchling." He reached for her, running his thumb over her bottom lip.

She couldn't help it, she laughed again, softly as she could, her fingers retying the laces on her pants, making it clear to him she had no plans on pushing their luck here any further. This incorrigible asshole.

There were audible footsteps in the hallway now, drawing closer, and Fey could hear the soft cadence of conversation grow more distinct as they grew near. Alastair put a finger to her lips and whispered "Shhhhh" as the voices drew close enough for them to hear.

But she recognized that voice. Her smile slipped slightly, under Alastair's finger, and he drew his hand back, sensing the shift in her and frowning.

Yes. She did know that voice. She'd heard that voice for years.

Dameon .

Fey tilted her head, straining to listen.

That was Dameon's voice.

"I don't care what you thought . Coming here tonight was a mistake," Dameon was saying. His voice held an edge of anger Fey rarely heard in it, and it chilled her blood to hear it. "What if someone saw you?"

"It's a party, isn't it?" a gruff voice answered, and something about that voice tugged on a memory. She recognized them, too.

But from where?

"Don't be so fucking brainless," Dameon answered. They were closer now, and though they were still whispering, Fey no longer had to strain to hear them. "Anyone could have seen you."

"I didn't have anywhere else to bring it," the other voice protested with a growl. "What was I supposed to do? Leave it somewhere for someone else to find?"

They stepped into the light of the oil lamps in the hallway, and despite herself, Fey sucked in air audibly in shock, prompting Alastair to wrap his hand around her, pulling her against him.

She did know that voice, and the moment she saw the Shifter with Dameon, the memory of where she'd heard it before came crashing into her.

That same voice, that same growl.

"You're not supposed to be here."

A face, moments before it split open, moments before the male transformed before her into a beast.

Into a Panther.

Fey's heart strained in her chest. Dameon—who hated all Shifters since a Bear Shifter had left that scar across his face—was talking with a Shifter. Dameon was talking with the Shifter from the warehouse, the one who'd attacked her, who'd almost killed her. Talking as though they knew each other.

She might have screamed if Alastair hadn't been there, holding her. In fear, in rage, in confusion, she didn't know. But cradled in Alastair's arms, she stayed quiet and watched as they walked right past them in the too-small hallway and continued down the hall and out of sight.

The moment Alastair loosened his grip on her, she was gone—out of his arms, out of the alcove, and running down the hallway. She heard him swear quietly behind her, and he called her name in a soft hiss, but Fey didn't look back.

Tonight, she would get answers. Tonight, she was going to find out the truth, even if it killed her.