When I finally come to, a throbbing between my thighs and a crook in my neck remind me of what happened. I sit up in a rumpled bed and cock my head from side to side. It’s not until I hear the silky swish of water that I turn to look.

​

Across the room, the big fae sits in a hot tub, big arms laid on either side of the wooden edge. The door opens, and I scramble to cover myself as a servant brings a tray of food. She sets it down, eyeing the male, Dosur, with something horribly like hunger in her gaze. But his eyes never leave mine, not even when I narrow mine at her. But I’m sure she can’t help herself, he’s so godsdamned handsome.

​

When she turns to leave, I throw my fingers wide and sparks of magic nip her in the ass. She yips and rushes from the room as Dosur turns to me with a chuckle.

​

His dark hair is wet from the tub, and as I watch, he shifts forward and gives me a feral, possessive grin.

​

“Come here, witch.” It’s a simple command, and where my magic should balk at this, it doesn’t. Instead, it fills me until I wonder if I should knock his tub over and watch him flail around on the floor for being insolent.

​

“I won’t ask you again,” he murmurs, pushing, as if he can hear my thoughts and dares me to try. I stand, a thrill streaking through my core when I call my magic, watching purple smoke coalesce along my palms, turning into small balls of fire. I’ve never been able to do this, although I saw my grandmother do it. I could never recreate it, but something about being here has unleashed me.

​

Maybe the drink?

Maybe it's him?

​

For the first time, I wonder if it was a mistake to grow up in the human world, away from my kind and away from beings who might have been able to help me. How much pain could have been avoided if I lived here in the underground, or one of the dozens of kingdoms accessible to magical beings?

​

Why did my grandmother and mother even keep me above ground and away from all of this? I wish I could ask because now that I’m here, it’s hard to imagine any of this being wrong.

​

There’s a deep growl, the fae letting me know of his displeasure, so I stalk across the room and step gently up into the tub with him. The moment I’m in, he grips my thighs and pulls me to him, his mouth level with my throbbing pussy. I am thoroughly used but already hot for more of him. The first hot swipe of his tongue forces my head back, a needy growl leaving my throat.

Who is this girl, this witch who demands more of the man between her thighs?

​

The fae lets out a pleased noise and slips two hands along the crack of my ass, parting my cheeks as his tongue slides gently along my slit.

​

“How sore are you?” He looks up from his spot below me, lapping slowly. “I’ve got more of that drink from before…”

By the gods, is it possible he can even go again? I literally blacked out from the pleasure last night. And I have no idea if he kept going or what. And somehow I don’t even care.

​

The drink? I don’t need it because despite all of that I’m soaked for him.

​

Sinking down into the water, his rock hard thickness teases the swollen lips of my sex. Incredibly, heat builds between my thighs, and I know I can take him again. Magic streaks up my spine as my head falls back. It’s his magic, it must be. I let mine recede and now he’s teasing me.

​

Molten heat tickles at my neck, sucking and pulling as the fae’s big body heats me from the front. His warm mouth closes over my nipple as it hardens. Teeth tug lightly at it as I rock in his lap, wondering if it’s possible to die from too much sex.

Goddess, I never knew it could be like this. This relentless wash of pain and pleasure that war with one another. If I could do this all the time, I think there’s a good chance I’d do it.

​

That thought sours my stomach, because the fae bought me to ride out his rut, and that will come to an end soon. He’ll come to his senses, and then he’ll be on his way. I have to hope I’ll get paid so I can return to the bridge troll and make my passage.

That’s what I think I want, so why am I miserable about it?

​

Bah. I’m thinking too hard and it’s stealing this moment’s joy. Bringing my eyes to his, I smirk. “Give me that drink, fae.”

With a slick grin he grabs it from the tub’s side table.

​

“Open, witch.”

​

When I dutifully obey, he tips it into my mouth. It burns on the way down, eased by the stroking of his fingers along my sensitive skin.

​

Tears prick at my eyes when I think about this being over, so I pinch them shut.

​

“Stop thinking,” he commands. “Let me chase the shadows from your eyes, sweet witch.”

​

“Please,” I plead without thinking. I want to feel good for as long as this lasts.