The Lakeland Witches, Book 4
by K.D. Grace
Ebook ISBN: B01EU6Q2TW
[ Demon Romance, MF ]
Ferris’s desire for Elaine, and his need to put right the wrongs that were done to her, are all-consuming. As events threaten to destroy his sanity, can the witches of Elemental Coven bring him back from the brink?
Perchance to Dream
In a room full of people Ferris could remain totally unnoticed. It was almost as though he were invisible. He heard things that way, saw things others missed. Fiori suspected that was part of his magic. However, at the moment, he was completely and totally the centre of her attention as his warm, wet tongue teased its way down and around the puckered peaks and the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. One splayed hand cupped and fondled her tight pubic curls while the other worried open his fly. What he was doing to her body was also a part of his magic and way more of a surprise, considering the man’s unassuming nature, than his ability to blend in.
She writhed beneath him totally naked, just as she had been when he entered her room. Gently, he eased her out of a bad dream, back into the Waking World, and into his arms. She didn’t know where he’d been before he came to her. The man seldom slept – and him not even a ghost. He might have adjourned to the library after the rest of the house had entered the Dream World, or perhaps he had been in Skye’s bed, sharing pleasure with her and Alice. He was generous with his affections. But then he’d hardly fit in at Elemental Cottage if he were otherwise.
How he had known she was having the dream again? How had he known about the dream at all? And yet he did, and she was glad that he came to her. ‘Sh! Sh. It’s only a dream, Fiori,’ he whispered. ‘Only a dream.’ He’d brought her a glass of water from the bathroom and had returned with a thick white towel. While she drank as though she had just traversed the desert, he gently wiped the perspiration from her face and her shoulders. Then he took the glass away and moved the soft terrycloth knap in slow, lazy circles down her back and her ribs as she slid into his arms, laying her head against his shoulder. ‘Do you want me to stay with you?’ he asked.
She only nodded, tightening her arms around his neck.
His black shirt was open and untucked and his nipples hardened as she slid her arms inside and up his back. ‘Do you want me to make love to you?’ He asked it as simply as a parent would ask a child if she would like a bedtime story. He asked it because he knew in a house where sex magic was practiced, healing came in the form of passion, and she nodded again because she knew that, too. His cock was already hard, but then she had noticed that it often was. In those times when he allowed attention to be drawn to himself, in those times when he made his presence known, he neither attempted to hide his erection nor did he attempt to flaunt it. It was the ease and the comfort with which he wore his own masculinity that made him seem like a much larger man than he really was. In spite of his chameleon nature, he was not shy by any means, and his stamina and his finesse made him a welcome addition to the beds of all of the Elemental witches and their consorts.
Impatient for the feel of him freed, she shoved at his trousers, the scrape of the zipper seeming unusually loud in the quiet room. He ran his hand down to aid her as she struggled to free his cock. He was neither large nor small. Even his cock was nothing unusual to draw attention to itself – and yet there was no one at Elemental Cottage who didn’t relish the thought of Ferris between their legs, of Ferris shifting and grinding as though his unassuming penis had a secret magic all its own once properly sheathed in an appreciative pussy or mouth or arsehole.
His breath caught with a grunt as she fisted the length of him, and she could almost feel the ripples of lust rising up the vertebrae of his spine. For a second he wrapped his hand around hers and shifted his hips. Then he pulled her fingers free, kissing each one of them, running his tongue in ticklish strokes over the tips, making her hips rock in empathy against the mattress. ‘I’m going to taste you now. I can already smell how good you’ll be.’ With a wriggle of his arse and a shove with his feet he shed his trousers as he crawled down between her thighs. He nudged her open with the smoothly shaven wedge of his jaw, clearing the way with nose and lips, teeth and tongue. The humidity of his breath blew across her clit, which rose up in anticipation.
‘There,’ he said, his fingers parting her as agilely and exactingly as if he was a pianist and she was his instrument. For an age he studied her, fingered her, arranged her as though there was only one way, the best way to approach her dark, heavy folds, and he would not partake until he knew exactly what would bring all of her focus, all of her energy, all of her arousal to the very centre of his attention. ‘And now –’ his words were little more than a rush of breath ‘–I’ll give you what you need.’ He took her with his whole mouth, hunched over her like a lion at his prey, the muscles of his shoulders bunched tight, dusted and gilded in moonlight. And she felt the bloom of her arousal like a bud swelling, bursting, opening. Then the bloom became an explosion rising up from someplace suspended above the base of her spine. He held her hips, held her steady with a strength his body belied as she bucked against his mouth, as she convulsed, as the moon moved in and out amid the undulation of slate clouds.
In the hazy vision of heat he seemed larger than himself, much larger than himself, as though his arousal, their arousal together had released something broader of shoulder, deeper of chest, darker of memory. And, as the moon disappeared, the power of him rose like a shadow, thick and all-consuming and, somehow, other than himself. The hair on the back of her neck rose. Gooseflesh prickled over her breasts, even as she rocked out her orgasm against his mouth. But before the tingle of uncertainty and the edge of fear could take hold, the moon reappeared and unassuming Ferris gave her clit one last hard tug with his lips. Then he rose over her, positioning himself, easing her open with his knees and his hips.
‘I need you in me,’ she said, her voice nearly lost in her struggle for oxygen.
‘A need which I share,’ came his urgent reply. It took no more than the tucking of his hips and a single thrust and he was in deep. She was slick and ready for him, gripping him as though she hadn’t just come, as though she was desperate for him to take her. With arms much stronger than they looked, he lifted her legs around his hips and positioned himself so that with each thrust he raked her clit, and she could almost swear that in the stark relief of moonlight and shadow his eyes were onyx black and yet bright, so bright. Even in the glow of a nearly full moon, he rode her in the light of an afterimage that made no sense, and she was reminded that not even Ferris understood his own magic. The closer they both came to orgasm the larger and heavier the afterimage grew. And the larger the afterimage, the harder they strained for release. When orgasm broke over them, so did the shadow, consuming them for the briefest of moments and then receding behind their own efforts to recover themselves, taking with it Fiori’s urge to speak of it, to question it.
‘Shall I stay with you?’ Ferris asked when they had both calmed enough to speak.
‘If you don’t mind, I’d like that.’
‘There’ll be no more dreams tonight.’ He eased his penis free and sought out the towel again as he slid down under the duvet next to her. ‘But it will perhaps ease your journey back into sleep if you’re not alone.’
‘I don’t need to sleep, you know?’ she said as he settled her into the crook of his arm, her head resting against his chest.
‘And yet even with the nightmare, you still choose to visit the Dream World regularly.’
‘I can’t help it,’ she said. ‘I guess I haven’t been dead long enough to not feel the need. Skye says she no longer misses it, but I still do. I still find the long hours until morning … lonely.’
‘The dreams’ll pass, Fiori, and you’ll heal.’ He shifted to kiss the top of her head. ‘Everyone understands what you did – what you did for Tara, for the whole coven. There was no other choice. You know this.’
‘My head knows it. My heart still has trouble with it. What about you, Ferris? You said you don’t dream.’ She spoke as much to change the subject as because she was truly curious about the man in her bed. ‘Are you incapable of dreaming, or do you simply choose not to?’
‘When I made my pact with Lucia, my ability to visit the Dream World was taken from me.’
‘And now that she’s released you?’
‘After so long in her service, I suppose it’s habit no longer to seek out my dreamscape.’
Fiori felt an involuntary shudder as he spoke, and she pulled him closer. ‘But you’re free now. You’re free to remember all that you were before that pact was made, and yet you haven’t.’
‘No. I haven’t.’
For a long moment the silence was filled only by their breathing. Then she raised herself on her elbow and looked down at him. ‘Don’t you want to know?’
He met her gaze in the darkness and, for an instant, the obsidian shine of his eyes made her feel as though she was falling into them. ‘I made a pact with a demon, Fiori. That our agreement left me to care for and watch over one such as our Cassandra, I shall never regret. But that in our agreement, the demon felt it necessary for me to live in the moment with no memories of my past other than the magic I needed to protect the succubus, is something I would prefer not to know.’ He shrugged as though anticipating her next question. ‘Lucia has made it clear. All I have to do is want to know my past and it’ll come back to me. But it’s my experience that some things are better left where they’re buried. Now sleep, my darling. I know you don’t need it, but it is your habit. I’ll be with you when you wake.’ He pulled her back into his arms and stroked her hair.
For a long moment she lay listening to the slow, even beat of his heart, suddenly reminded that though he had not the muscle nor the height of Anderson or Tim or Kennet, from the moment he entered her room, from the moment he rescued her from the Dream World, he seemed to dwarf them all. Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered the strange afterimage that formed around him just before their release. Surely it was just a play of light and shadow in the waxing moon. Surely she was just a little raw around the edges from dreaming once again about being forced to take the life of her beloved high priestess. Everyone was still struggling to recover from Deacon’s final assault. It would take some time to find their feet as a coven family again. But one thing was certain; though Ferris had only been with them for a short time, he had become an asset she could no longer imagine the coven being without.