Oh goddess, oh fuck, I never knew pleasure could be like that. So all-encompassing, so primal, so godsdamned intoxicating.

Before I realize what’s happening, the fae flips me in his arms, yanking me flush with his chest. Both hands go to my ass and he lifts me high, setting me on the railing as his forehead comes to mine.

​

“We’re out of time, woman,” he growls into my lips, his rough against mine as he nips at me. “I’m losing my mind. Your scent is so godsdamned strong for me.”

​

I cry out as my head falls back, my body willingly giving in to the power this fae’s dirty words have. When a hand wraps through my hair and shoves, I hiss and fall against his chest. The bellow he lets loose shakes the railing as I turn in his arms to see the centaur raging at the fence.

​

“Get the fuck out of here,” it commands. “Get a damned room unless you want a good fucking next.”

​

My fae snarls as a sword appears seemingly out of thin air, its tip pressed to the centaur’s neck as the fae’s voice goes low and deadly.

​

“Apologize to the woman,” he demands. His words are calculated and even, his muscles taught and tense as he glares at the other male.

​

When the centaur spits at the ground, the fae moves before I see anything happen. A sudden spray of blood hits me, and a great gash across the centaur’s cheek wells red as he screams and rears up on both hind legs. 

​

“Apologize or lose that head,” the fae repeats, pulling me smoothly behind his big body as I press my hands to his belt and pray not to see anyone killed right now. Calling my magic, I press my hands against his back. His muscles tremble, but when I whisper a spell for calming and the trembling ceases.

​

When the centaur says nothing, I worry the fae will end this with a swift slash of his sword. So, I do what any sane woman in my position would do, because this man seems unhinged, as if he’s on the very verge of losing his mind to whatever sexual magic has him under its thrall.

​

I shove both hands down the front of my pants and grip his impressive cock, stroking as I pull all the way to the tip. I swirl a palm around the bulbous head, coating him with his own sticky cum as his head falls to the side, a great, needy groan rumbling from his chest. He spins in place and shoves his pants down, staring at me as if I am the greatest of treasures. In that moment, I feel like I am, like we’ve  been lovers for ages.

​

Behind him, the centaur backs away into the depths of his stable, and the crowd around us begins to clear, sensing it’s a good time to escape the fae male’s wrath.

​

“Come back to me,” I urge as I stroke him harder, pumping my hands slowly back down his rock-hard length.

​

“Witch,” he grunts. “Room. Need. Room.”

​

“Yes, my fae,” I agree. “We need a room. Find us one quickly.”

​

My urging seems to snap him out of the bloodlust, and he pulls my hands gently from his pants, whining when they leave his ample cock. He grips my wrist and drags me up the street, and when I cannot keep up, he hauls me into his arms like a bride and jogs.

​

He must have rooms already, because he seems to know where’s headed, and that gives me a moment to really look at him.

High cheekbones frame a square, angular jaw with a cleft down the middle. Salt and pepper stubble covers the lower half of his face, dark lashes fluttering over pitch black eyes. His skin is the color of burnt bread straight from the oven. A summer fae, perhaps, although I don’t know terribly much about his kind. The only thing I ever heard was my grandmother’s warning to avoid the winter fae and their terrible love of fire. 

​

Witches abhor fire.

​

The fae makes a turn down a side alley and kicks a blue wooden door open, shoving his way through a bustling tavern to a set of stairs in the back of the small building. He sprints up them and kicks a second door out of his way, setting me down inside a small, cozy bedroom. A fire has already been placed for him, warming the room’s cold stone floor. 

​

Seeing the flames makes me shudder. I take a step away from the door, but in a flash, he tosses me against it and drops to both knees at my feet, ripping my skirts up.

​

“Hold.” That singular command sends me fingers curling through the rough, dirty wool as the fae buries his face between my thighs and inhales deeply. He sucks in great, ragged breaths, over and over again, angling his face every which way as if he can’t get enough of me. Just the feel of his nose and jaw pressed between my legs is enough to send a series of lighting-hot jabs down the backs of my legs.

​

“Goddess,” I cry, my head falling back as he nips at my underthings with his teeth, nuzzling them to the side. A string of curse words leaves my mouth at the first swipe of his hot, rough tongue. He rubs it flat up my pussy lips and then curls over my clit, sucking me into his mouth as he groans.

​

Big hands rip at my skirts, tearing them from my hands and down to the floor. He pats my legs, indicating I should step out, but the moment I lift a leg to follow his direction, he grabs it and throws it over his shoulder, using that leverage to press me harder to the door. His warm tongue probes deep inside, one hand coming to my ass, which he teases with featherlight touches as I tense.

​

Everything is too much, too soon, too oversensitized. I’m nearly beside myself with pleasure when he gathers my honey and uses it to push a digit into my back hole, filling me as he sucks at my clit, his lips wild as his own cries rise in resonance.

He groans, eyes rolling into his head as his mouth drops open. With a quick jerk, he gasps, body shaking in violent spasms. I watch in shock. Oh Mona, is he dying?

​

The trembling subsides, and the sexiest smile overtakes his face. Dark eyes flash up to mine. “Been a long time since the taste of a woman made me come, little witch.”

​

He…came? Like that?

​

“I thought you were dying,” I admit.

​

He cocks his head to the side, staring at me. “I…you didn’t realize? Wait.” His eyes narrow as he slides me off his chest and down the wall until we’re eye to eye. “Have you done this before?”