Sorcery in the Sand

He groans under her touch. And she feels him throb against her hand. Her desire for him thunders through her chest, and it has nothing to do with the influence of the Deep Ones, or magical hypnosis, or the necessity to survive.

It has everything to do with those dark eyes and that handsome face; the growing hardness of his cock under her palm, and his flirtatious smile.

It has a little to do with the fact that he’s a Witch-Hunter too, if she’s honest. She moans back at him, letting him know just how aroused his arousal makes her.

“Here?” He breathes, seizing the back of her neck, and pulling her close.

“Good a place as any.” She pants, and presses her lips to his.

He tastes of sand and salt, but also of paper ash and pine: he tastes delicious. As her mouth opens to him, their tongues dancing together, she wonders with a throb between her legs, what his cock tastes like. She has every intention of finding out, though not just yet.

He leans over her, hands pinning her wrists to the sand, and she spreads her legs to him submissively, relishing how easily he takes control. She feels him between her legs, grinding against her, and her vulva slickens in a way that has nothing to do with how soaked her clothes are.

His hand slides down to squeeze and cup her thigh, relishing the meat on her legs, and then she pushes him back gently, so that he kneels behind her legs. “Enjoy them.” She grins.

He does, stroking and admiring her pale legs, as she brings them together and lifts her hips. Her skirts around her waist, she knows he can see her lips sandwiched between her upper thighs, and moans fitfully as he slips a finger inside her, stroking gently as he runs his other hand up her calf, over her ankle and across her sole.

“Mother of earth and desire, let me see my lover’s fire.” She pants, pussy pulsing around His expert fingers. Caius chuckles in surprise as his clothes leap from his body as the Hex takes effect.

“Couldn’t resist.” She giggles, placing a foot on his chest, and pushing gently. “Let me see you?”

He complies, but the lust in his eyes tells her that she’ll soon be under his thumb again - and that’s fine by her. Standing, still holding one petite foot, his body soaks in the moonlight, which illuminates the troughs of his muscles, the richness of his skin. The thick hair on his chest and between his legs, the knots of muscle on his arms and calves delight her.

As does the proud, throbbing member that juts at an angle from his crotch, tilted just a little to the left, fighting against its own weight to stay in the air.

She lets out a shuddering breath, and decides to tease them both for just a little longer. Though her aching pussy yearns to wrap itself around him, she slides her feet across his abdomen, toes brushing his musculature.

He groans with a surprised note as her slender feet caress his shaft. Kept forever supple and clean with charms and self-care her soft soles cup his length, sliding over him, then against the head of his cock, which throbs in torment. She works her toes too, flexing them against the tightness of his shaft; one smooth heel presses against his heavy balls, gently, but enough to elicit another confused moan.

She strokes him for a few moments, her hips raised to reach him as she pleasures him with her feet, flexing the muscles of her legs for him. A bead of pre-cum slides against her toes, and she knows she has to have him soon.

He makes the decision for them, gently removing her feet, then parting her legs as she kneels down over her.

“Not something I’d ever expected to enjoy so much. You are a Witch of rare talents.” He murmurs, holding himself as he presses his glistening cockhead against her mound.

“Call me that again.” She gasps.

“Witch.”

She squeals as he enters her, slowly, agonisingly, his tip forging a path through her folds and sliding back and forth, followed gradually by a few inches of tanned meat.

She bends her legs back for him, presenting her vulva horizontally, lips tight and wet around his impressive length.

The horror and the pain of Whaler’s Cove ebbs away like the receding tide as he thrusts slowly into her, as do all thoughts but how marvellous he feels inside her. Her walls squeeze against him, milking his cock urgently as she swells around him, her toes curling, fingers digging in the sand.

“Again.” She whines, almost sobbing as she feels his hips press tight against her thick cheeks, the base of his cock flush with her lips.

“Witch.” He groans, hands grasping her waist, fingers kneading her flesh through the wet fabric. Her tits bounce urgently as his rhythm picks up, throwing themselves against her dress and corset, yearning to be free. She reaches up with a shaking hand, and yanks down her neckline, letting her pale white breasts spill out, slapping back and forth as he begins to plow her in earnest.

He huffs heavily with each thrust now, his grunts powerful and dominant as he pulls and pushes her in the sand, up and down on his cock. It hammers into her, his girth pressing and rubbing at all the right places.

“Hand. Hand!” She insists frantically, grasping his wrist. He lets her guide him to her neck, and she presses his palm there, half on her throat, half on her jaw. “One more… time…” she pleads, eyes wide.

“Beg me Morg.” He gasps, his thumb massaging her throat, firm but tender.

“Fuck you.” She whines, “fuck you, fuck me, call me a Witch and finish inside me.”

“That almost rhymed. Witch.” He laughs thickly, shuddering inside her, and she feels her legs spasm as she launches into her climax, spilling herself over him.

With her release taking place, waves of pleasure crashing over her, he is free to throw himself bodily against her, his chest pressed against hers, his face buried in her neck.

She wraps her legs around him, hands roving his back, drawing him so deeply in that he can barely pull back, thrusting with just a few inches as he rides to his peak.

“Yess…” she moans in his ear. “Just like that. You can cum now, you can cum for me now. Make me yours.”

She can barely believe the words coming from her mouth, but she means them, and moans once more as she feels him empty his balls inside her. He throbs within her, his seed rushing through to paint her insides.

She clings to him still, the pair of them covered in sand and sweat, the sea rushing in their ears along with their blood.

He shifts, moving to pull out of her. But she holds him with a gentle whine, and she feels him chuckle into her neck. She keeps him inside, adoring the sensation of his cum slowly trickling from the tight seal of her lips around his cock.

“Please tell me one of those scrolls can teleport us.” She murmurs, legs aching quite wonderfully, still locked tight around him. “I really don’t want to trek home right now.”

“Funny you should mention it…” he mutters slyly.

“Don’t. Even. Joke.” She breathes, but it’s a happy sound, her fingers tangled in his curls. Morgause sighs, and lets herself enjoy the moment, needing nothing more, for now.