Page 68 of Resurrecting the Witch
I pulled hard toward my face, placing her pretty feckin’ cunt right on top of my mouth. I moaned loud enough so she understood that she was now, indeed, sitting on my face. Not hovering, not exercising her thigh muscles, but using me as a seat.
I licked up her center, snarling as she soaked my beard with her cunt’s juices.
“Oh fuck, Patrick,” she moaned my name like she was begging me to let her come. “Please.”
I bit at her clit and felt her jolt at the unexpected hurt.
I pulled my face away just enough to bark a command. “Use me to come,mo peata. Ride me until you drown me in your pretty pussy. It’s the only way I’ll allow myself to die again.”
She slapped the top of my head, but I had already started sucking on her clit again. Her reprimand quickly turned into her grabbing my hair and finally listening to me. She rode my face, pressing my chin, mouth, and nose inside her body. I hummed against her center and lapped up more of her while gripping her thick, juicy arse in my hands.
Cliona made to sit up, so I slapped her right arse cheek.
I growled, pulling my face away for what I hoped was the final time. “Don’t insult me again, Cliona. I know how to hold my breath. Smother me.”
Then, thank the goddess, she finally smothered me.
I inched my fingers from the roundness of her perfect arse cheeks to stroke some of her wetness toward her other hole. She froze above me but clenched her pussy around my tongue.
“Have you been taken here before, witchling?” I asked, pulling slightly away from her center to savor her on my tongue.
She whimpered.
“I need your words,mo peata.”
“No, sir.”
“Good girl.” I slapped her arse and gave her cunt a nice long big stroke of my tongue as a reward. “You’re going to let me take this arse soon, aren’t you?”
Another whimper escaped, but I didn’t reprimand her this time, feeling her sit harder and truly begin to ride my face like I craved. She rode me hard for what felt like an eternity until my entire face glistened with her sweet release.
Unfortunately, we didn’t have time for a lot of after care after she submitted to me so beautifully.
“You were such a good feckin’ girl,mo peata,” I told her as we dressed to attend the last Samhain celebration: the Silent Supper. Cliona had woken up earlier from her ordeal and looked more relaxed than I’d seen her in ages. She’d asked questions about what happened, and I explained it all the best I could. How her power had been overwhelming her when she attacked Orla, so after I put my hand on her, the others joined and somehow, I connected all of us to give her the focus she needed to pull it off until she wore herself out and slept for an entire day, missing the Samhain festival almost entirely.
As expected, she did not appreciate my reprimand in demanding she take better note of her magick so she didn’t pass out anymore. A few spankings later and we’d spent the rest of the day in bed.
Most every part of the Samhain festivities could be skipped except the Silent Supper.
We’d left an empty chair at each table when I grew up, as the sídhe celebrated similarly. One chair for all of our loved ones on the other side of the veil, welcoming them to share a meal with us during the night where the parting between worlds was at its most thin.
“Are you ready for tonight?” I buttoned up the wrist of my black and gray flannel. It was as fancy as I got, apart from the one dress shirt I wore on my first date with Cliona, the happiest day of my whole existence.
She shrugged.
I walked over to where she was zipping up her calf-length black boots. She was wearing a black dress that hugged every perfect inch of her and would make it hard to not rip it off her when I snuck her away later. It had taken all my effort not to rip the garter belts that held up her thigh-high stockings to the matching black lace thong she wore underneath the ensemble. Her long black hair was left loose apart from a small upper portion braided back away from her face.
Her beauty undid me in ways I hadn’t known were possible. She was everything a High Priestess should be, and tonight she’d be making it permanent, forming her coven after the Silent Supper was completed.
“My eyes are up here, perv,” she said, lifting my chin up. I hadn’t even realized she’d risen from putting her shoes on.
I’d gotten literally lost in her beauty.
I sounded like a lovesick fool.
I loved it.
“But your perfect arse is down there,mo peata.” I picked her up so both my hands grabbed her arse perfectly. Cliona slapped me on the back to put her down, so I reluctantly let go and we walked toward her black Beetle to head toward Town Hall.
