Bad Witch: A Snarky Paranormal Detective Story (A Cat McKenzie Novel Book 2)

by Lauren Dawes

  “Are you okay?” Sawyer breathed, touching my face as if he was looking for injuries.

  I coughed. “I think so? Fuck, that witch is pissed off now.” I looked back at the stairs. “How the hell did she do that?”

  Sawyer shook his head and clambered to his feet. After helping me up, he stood at the top of the stairs and peered down. “I don’t know. However she did it, her powers have suddenly multiplied.”

  Powers. I touched the spot where my opal used to sit. Having it with us tonight would’ve given us enough warning to get out, but what if our witch was using it in a different way? What if it amplified her curses?

  Out on street level, Sawyer and I emerged from the subway station, dripping wet and shivering. The air was cold on our exposed skin, making me think that hypothermia was well on the way.

  Yay! And by the way, insert sarcasm here.

  Police tape had been strung up at the entrance of the station, the cops on guard looking equal parts bored and tired. When they saw us though, they straightened.

  “What the hell happened to you?” one of them asked. “Why are you wet?”

  “Did you know subway stations make excellent swimming pools?” I replied.

  Both of them gaped as we ducked under the tape and moved toward Sawyer’s motorcycle.

  “We need to get home,” Sawyer said, teeth chattering as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his body. He weaved a little and although we were just conserving body heat here, I suspected he needed some help staying on his feet. In an odd, synchronized shuffle, we made it to Sawyer’s motorcycle.

  Reaver was waiting for us already—propped up against the rear tire.

  “P-p-please tell m-m-me you still h-h-h-have your k-keys.”

  While he searched his pockets slowly, I took hold of Reaver and touched the etching of my face, making it disappear. Slowly—like everything in his body hurt—he got on and started the engine. I climbed on behind him.

  “Helmet, Cat. You need your helmet,” he rasped in a strained voice.

  I took what he offered me and slid the helmet onto my head, the sound of my chattering teeth even louder in my ears.

  “W-w-what about the b-b-body? We c-c-can’t leave her d-d-down there, can w-w-we?”

  “I’ll c-c-call Ben in to secure the scene.”

  “Wh-wh-who is Ben?” I’d never heard this name before.

  “The W-w-wendigo at PIG.”

  Wendigo? I tried to sift through my mental supernatural omnibus. A wendigo was a native American supernatural creature with antlers and a head like a deer, teeth like a wolf, and the body of an emaciated human.

  “The g-g-growling guy?”

  Sawyer nodded.

  Well, I wouldn’t be sitting on that guy’s desk again.

  “Aren’t th-they cannibals?” I asked. And why the hell did he look human in the office?

  Another nod. “I’ll call him w-when we get h-h-home.”

  He rode slowly, returning us safely to the garage parking of his building. When we finally made it upstairs, I’d stopped shivering, but I was still soaked. In my room, I stripped out of my clothes and got into the shower, the warm water helping to take away the ache of the biting cold that seemed to have settled into my veins. I needed to wash my hair. It smelled of stagnant water and had bits of debris stuck in it, but all I wanted to do was fall into bed.

  Nearly dying would do that to a girl.

  Thirteen

  I woke up with a start, awareness prickling over me like a lover’s caress. I glanced at the clock—three in the morning. I must’ve been asleep for around five hours. My whole body ached, something I could only blame on the post-adrenaline dump of nearly getting killed in a flood confined to a six-foot radius focused completely on my partner and me.

  I too was hot, and when I tried to shove the quilt away, I discovered it was already down near my feet. That was when I realized Sawyer was in bed with me. Trying to shuffle away, he growled and dragged me back into the line of his body, his arm tightening around my middle. He was hard, his erection prodding the seam of my ass. Peering over my shoulder at him, I was stunned by the look of hunger in his eyes.

  “How long has it been since you’ve fed?” I whispered into the dark room.

  He flexed his hips into my ass, grinding his erection into me with an almost frantic need. “Almost forty hours,” he rasped painfully.

  “Why haven’t you fed before now?” Greta at the hotel had been a sure thing.

  He shook his head, his jaw tight and brows locked down tight over his eyes. “It doesn’t matter, but I’ve left it too long… grown too weak. Feeding off lust won’t be enough to sate me. I need…” He moaned, arching against me once more. “I need a woman.”

  Too weak.

  Swallowing, I said, “I’ll go and find you someone.” Although how I was supposed to achieve that, I didn’t know. It wasn’t like I could just go up to a random woman and ask if she was willing to let an incubus fuck her in order to feed.

  “No,” he said, lines branching out from the corners of his eyes. Pain. I saw it so plainly on his face. “I need to protect you… to keep you safe from the witch. You can’t go out alone.”

  His concern for me made me melt just a little bit. Focus, McKenzie. “Is this what happens when you go too long between feedings?”

  His eyes were glassy—unfocused.

  Hazy.

  Tormented.

  “Yes.”

  Sucking in a shallow breath through my mouth, I asked, “What happens if you don’t feed?”

  “Unimaginable pain. Weakness… death.”

  No, no, no. “I’ll go and find you someone,” I said in a choked whisper.

  “It’s three in the morning.” He pressed his erection into me again, and my eyes shut, lust whipping at my body erotically. “Just knock me out.”

  My eyes flew open. “Excuse me?”

  “In my bathroom, there’s a pre-loaded syringe of fentanyl. Get it. It’ll knock me out until…”

  I sat up, jostling him. “Until when? You die? No!”

  He groaned, shutting his eyes tightly as if in pain. “I have a list of females willing to service my needs when I go past the point of civility. They can take the frenzy. I’ll call one when I wake up.”

  Jealousy was a red-hot poker in my gut. My gaze tracked down his body. He was drenched in sweat, his breathing labored. Every single one of his muscles were straining, the veins popping against his skin. At his hips, his erection seemed to reach for me. I licked my lips. I was torn. I didn’t want to see him in agony, but if I did this—if I crossed this line with him—I had to be prepared for the consequences.

  An erection was a biological response to stimuli. The sex act was simply two people coming together in order to fulfill a primal need. Feelings didn’t have to be involved. I could totally keep those confusing bastards locked down tight. My hand shook as I reached out and wrapped my palm around his aching cock, the hot hard length kicking in my grip.

  His eyes flew open, confused. “Pussy cat.” His moan was a plea that made heat flood my body and made me squirm.

  “It’s okay,” I said, my voice shaking. “It’s okay, Sawyer. I’m going to make you feel better.”

  Pumping my fist, I stroked him through the fabric of his sweats, watching his face carefully. His expression hadn’t relaxed. If anything, his jaw locked more tightly and more sweat beaded on his brow.

  “Am I hurting you?” I asked. “I can stop.”

  He grabbed my free hand and brought it to his mouth, his tongue darting out to suck on one of my fingers. I gasped, the sensation hitting me between my legs. My core clenched as I thought about his mouth there instead of his fingers, his cock instead of his mouth.

  He rolled his hips into my grip. “Don’t stop.” His usually silver eyes had turned stormy gray.

  Nodding, I focused on what I was doing, trying to ignore the pooling heat between my thighs. Lust had me in a chokehold I had no hope of escaping.


  “Cat?” Sawyer’s hoarse voice had my eyes darting to his face.

  “Yes?”

  “You’re aroused.”

  “Y-yes.”

  “Can I… make you feel good, too?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  His eyes shut then, like my very answer was euphoric, and when they opened again, they were a solid black sky flashing with lightning. I realized then that his need to feed was a living, breathing beast within him.

  “Lie down beside me.”

  I did as he asked, keeping my eyes on his face until I couldn’t anymore and his fingers brushed against the skin of my stomach. Electricity arced between us, and I arched into his touch, biting back a moan as he rubbed me through the cotton of my shorts.

  With a frustrated growl, he shoved my shorts and panties to the side and plunged two fingers into my slick heat. I cried out, an orgasm ripping through me with that first touch. I rode his fingers, barely hanging on to my self-control as he dragged out my pleasure.

  He kept his fingers inside me, curling them slightly as he pumped slowly, keeping me riding a knife’s edge of pleasure. Reaching out, I touched his chest, skimming my fingers down over the slash of his collarbones, the hard padding of his pecs, and down his shredded stomach.

  He had a body made for sin, and I was in the mood for sinning.

  Sawyer kissed me then, the meeting of our mouths something love songs should be written about. There was a burning possession in that kiss, and even though I shouldn’t have, I opened myself up to it. I let Sawyer in––let him consume me.

  Reaching down, I wrapped my hand around his cock, biting my bottom lip when he sucked in a hiss at that first touch, his chocolate and whisky scent intensifying. Pumping my palm up and down, he growled, the sound vibrating along my skin and shooting straight to my core.

  Everything about Sawyer was sex. His voice. His smell. His touch. My wanting to fuck him had gone from a genuine desire to ease his pain to a burning need. I needed him just like he needed me in this moment.

  “I need to have a taste of you, pussy cat.”

  “Excellent idea,” I gasped, releasing my hold so he could do just that. Through slitted eyes, I watched him move slowly down my body, dropping kisses on the bare, hot skin of my midriff.

  Anticipation and lust shivered through me, licking at me like Sawyer’s tongue would soon be licking at me. Hooking his fingers into the waistband of my sleep shorts, he pulled them down my thighs and off my legs, discarding them onto the floor with a casual flick of his wrist.

  A low, pumping growl rumbled from his chest as he stared at me.

  Even though the barrier of my panties was in place, he attacked me like I was bare. His tongue swept up the length of the panel, his breath mixing with my already soaked pussy. Hooking a finger into the side, he rubbed his knuckle over my clit, making my eyes shutter and my hands clutch at the sheets on either side of my body.

  Sweat beaded on my brow, the intensity of what we were sharing made manifest. I had a brief flicker of thought that maybe this was a mistake, but then Sawyer pulled at my panties until the fabric ripped, then discarded them onto the floor along with my self-doubt.

  My legs fell open, inviting him—inciting him to use me however he needed to.

  He dove back in without hesitation, sliding his tongue through my folds and drinking me. I clutched at his head this time, lifting my hips to position him where I needed, his warm breath feathering over my skin, nearly sending me over the edge.

  When he slid a finger inside me though, that was when I lost it. I came apart around the digit, my inner walls clamping down on him and refusing to let go. Sawyer kept pumping, drawing out my pleasure like he’d made it his personal mission to make me feel amazing.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I screamed as the orgasm continued on and on. When that wave had finally crested and my pleasure waned, I found him staring at me with hunger blazing in his eyes. He sucked the fingers that had been buried inside me into his mouth, making little aftershocks wrack my body. He was a bad, bad man, but he made me feel so good.

  My gaze tracked down to his tented sweats, carnal hunger swirling around in my stomach.

  I had to have a taste of him.

  “Stand up,” I commanded softly.

  He watched me for a moment before sliding off the edge of the bed. His chest was heaving from his rapid breaths, his stomach muscles rippling with the movement. Perching on the edge of the mattress, I reached for the waistband of his sweats, pulled them down over his erection, and let them pool around his feet.

  He palmed his cock, running his hand over the head while staring at me intensely. “This should be your hand,” he rasped, tugging gently.

  “That should be my mouth.” I took over for him, running my fingers over his length, stroking him and making his head fall back.

  I leaned forward to wrap my lips around the head of his cock. He stepped forward with a groan, pushing himself further into my mouth, then ran his fingers through my hair and held me in place.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” he muttered as I sucked the head of his cock, swirling my tongue around the crown and hollowing out my cheeks as I took him deeper. He tightened his grip when I got down to the base, his full length nudging the back of my throat. Dragging in air through my nose, I concentrated on letting him feel.

  “Jesus fuck,” he groaned, dragging his cock out before sliding back in again. I kept my eyes on him, watching him watching me. His gaze shifted from my face to my mouth, where he was sliding in and out, in and out. His eyes became molten, his mouth opening slightly as he panted. Pushing all the way in, he held himself there for a few seconds before retreating. Again and again, he pushed himself to the limits.

  Running his finger over my bottom lip, he withdrew then bent down to kiss me. His tongue swept into my mouth, the thrust and retreat mimicking what he’d just been doing. “Lay back.”

  Anticipation hummed through my bones.

  I lay down and Sawyer climbed up my body before settling on his side. Lifting his hand, he rubbed his thumb over one of my breasts, teasing my nipple until it was a hard peak. The brush of my tee against it was torturous. Shoving my shirt out of the way, he sucked one nipple into his mouth while he palmed the other in his strong hand.

  My legs scissored beneath me, looking for friction because I felt another orgasm coming. Sawyer had a goddamn magic mouth. Reaching between us, he ran his finger over my clit, making me detonate with just one stroke. I bucked against him, rubbing myself against his fingers to prolong the pleasure. I was being greedy, although I suspected Sawyer would be giving me a lot more orgasms before the night was out.

  When I finally stopped shaking, he moved off my body, rolling onto his back and taking me with him. My thighs split over his hips, my dripping pussy less than an inch from his cock. I stared down into his handsome face, noticing that the stress that had lined his face was slowly fading.

  “I want to see you lose yourself to me,” he murmured, running his hands up and down my thighs, sweeping his thumbs closer and closer to my aching core. “I want you to give your pleasure over to me completely. I want you to trust me with it.”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “I need to have you bare in order to feed. I’m clean, and I can’t get you pregnant.”

  I nodded. I’d been tested when I was in the academy, and I hadn’t had time for sex since then. I also knew that the only way to make baby sex demons was for an incubus and succubus to have sex. “Just fuck me already, Sawyer.”

  He lifted me easily, my pussy hovering over his hips. Reaching down, I dragged the tip of his cock through my folds and over my clit. Jesus, that felt good. I threw my head back and absorbed the sensations, feeling another orgasm building again. He really did have a magic cock. I stroked myself a few more times, and that was all it took. I came apart once more, my inner walls clenching around nothing when I wanted to be filled.

  Before my orgasm subsided, I impaled myself on him, moa
ning out his name when another orgasm chased the first. Sawyer tightened his fingers on my thighs and squeezed his eyes shut, taking it all. When I got to see his eyes once more, they were heavy with lust.

  “Ride me, pussy cat. I want you to come at least three more times. I want this to be good for you.”

  I blinked at him. It already was good for me. I’d never had back-to-back orgasms before. He’d already given me three. “Are you trying to kill me?” I panted.

  “No, I’m trying to send you to heaven.”

  Placing my hands on his shoulders, I started to rock against him, taking all of him inside me. I’d literally slid down on his cock four times when I came again. Flopping down onto his chest, I stared at him through the curtain of my hair. How was this possible? Now I understood why there were some women who just wanted to fuck incubus. If one could give you a dozen orgasms in a night, why wouldn’t you chase that high?

  Leaning up, I captured his mouth in a kiss that showed him everything I wanted him to do to my body. He was still hard and long inside me, the feeling of fullness urging me to move against him again like a cat in heat.

  I lifted myself off him, then sat back down.

  Sooo good. It felt so good.

  Sawyer’s hands on my thighs tightened. “Do that again,” he rasped.

  I lifted myself once more, running the head of his cock through my folds and torturing both of us.

  He growled, “Now, Cat.”

  Lining him up with my entrance, I impaled myself again, the friction causing an orgasm to rip through me, tearing apart any self-control I thought I had.

  “That was number six,” he grunted, fresh sweat beading on his brow. In two swift movements, he lifted me off his lap and positioned me on my hands and knees. Bowing my head, I looked down the length of my body and watched him rub his knuckle against my soaked pussy. I arched into him, chasing the friction, chasing the release that was just there. His finger disappeared inside me, and I came apart—my gratification drawn out and intense. Moisture ran down the inside of my thigh, and I was horrified that I’d become so wet we needed a tarp to protect the bed.