The Warlock and The Tempest

Drake POV

I gave up on the notion of love many years ago. Most with my bloodline find love at eighteen years of age, twenty at most. But I didn’t, as the son of a sensual witch and a powerful warlock, I chose to forego waiting for a true mate and began to bed whatever woman I deemed fit for the night. Though strangely enough, I wasn’t alone in my absence of a mate. My Fraternal twin Dara had not found hers by twenty either.

Dara chose to remain pure in the hopes of one day finding her mate, while I chose to become the epitome of the perfect Rake. Become the fantasy for the virgin who wanted adventure or become the adventure for the unsatisfied house wife who desired escape from monogamy.

At twenty four abstinence paid off for my sister and she found true love in a werewolf from a recently reunited pack led by a juvenile Alpha. She is now one of the most powerful witches in Ireland and has given birth to several hybrids. We will have to wait and see if these offspring will prove to be more witch/warlock or wolf. I for one wouldn’t mix the bloodlines though. I adore my nephews and nieces, but I see it as unnatural to be both capable of magic and becoming a beast. However I was telling you of myself, not my sister. She has her own tale to tell.

At thirty four I am still mateless and as I sit here in the pub sipping my brandy I am faced with the usual dilemma. Which of the wanton will be riding my c*ck tonight? I don’t see anyone that stands out from the crowd. There are a few lot-lizards in the crowd who would surely know what they were doing, but I’m not in the mood for sloppy seconds tonight. With the hour being late the lot-lizards have likely already ridden the pole at least once tonight.

The baker’s wife? She was an interesting f*ck the last time. She has lucious t*ts and no gag reflex, but lacks imagination when it comes time to f*ck her p*ssy and I want more than vanilla tonight. So that means I could break in a new virgin, eager to please and easy to please.

Now to scan the prospects. There’s the girl with her friends whose attire has left nothing to the imagination, her t*ts aren’t spectacular but they would surely bounce as I pounded myself into her. Those are the girls who become clingy though and want a declaration of love after they s*ck you off. Pass.

There’s the emo girl who is certainly wearing too much clothing and I can’t determine if the merchandise is even worth taking for a test drive. With my luck she’s washboard flat under that black hoodie. The bounce just isn’t as fun without the jiggle. Besides her hair is so close cropped there would be nothing to hold onto when I f*ck*d her mouth. Pass.

Oh, now what do we have here? High ponytail, crystal blue eyes that scream innocence, lush lips in just the perfect shade to have smeared down my shaft, ripe breasts that are sure to bounce long after I have gotten off, and the best part is the leggings which means commando or tiny little thong. Perfect, target selected.

“Murne, what is the girl at table six drinking?” I ask the bartender without taking my eyes off my prey. “That would be a gin martini extra dry with an olive, Mr. Maga,” Murne replied. “Fine, another brandy and a gin martini extra dry with an olive then,” I reply and watch as she sips her current drink. “Right away Mr. Maga,” he replied.

Once the drinks are made I leave fifty Euros on the bar and with drinks in hand make my way over to the table. She looks up with a doe eyed expression on her face and I feel my d*ck twitch in my pants. I flash her my most dazzling smile, “Is this seat taken?” She blinks twice before finding her voice, “No sir. Please have a seat.” She smiles shyly and her cheeks take on a nice blush.

“This is for you. I took the liberty of asking the bartender what you were drinking this evening. I hope you don’t mind,” I say sliding the drink in front of her. “Thank you sir. That was very kind of you,” she says softly and the blush deepens. “Sir is too formal. You can call me Drake and your name is?” I questioned. “Ingrid. Pleased to meet you Drake,” she says, extending her hand to me.

I take the hand offered and raise it to my lips, kissing the backs of her fingers. “Ingrid, that’s a lovely name. Tell me Ingrid, what brings you here tonight?” I ask, keeping hold of her hand. “My roommates are having a party and I don’t care for the large noisy crowds. This place is quiet and usually never very busy,” she explains, fidgeting just a little. “I see. Well it seems you’ve come on a rather unusual night since it is quite busy here,” I reply and lean in a little closer.

“We could go somewhere quieter and get to know one another if you’d like,” I invited. She looks around as if she is trying to figure something out. Then she looks down at her glass and then up through her lashes. “Where did you have in mind?” she asked, clearly unsure of what she was doing. “We could go find a quiet restaurant or we could take this back to my place. I have quite a collection of alcohol, I am sure you would find something to your liking,” I offered.

She worried her lower lip between her teeth and I could feel myself growing hard from the enticing gesture. “I think your place would be nice, as long as you don’t have noisy roommates,” Ingrid decided. How sweet, she thinks I am young enough to have a roommate. “I assure you Ingrid, I live quite alone and my flat is soundproof so that even the neighbors wouldn’t disturb us,” I assert. That and they won’t hear as you scream my name in ecstasy as I f*ck you hard, I thought to myself.

“That sounds perfect Drake, I would love to join you then,” she smiled shyly and blushed again. “Are you ready then? The tab has already been paid. We can take my car or you can drive separately if you wish,” I offered, wanting to get her home and naked. “I took a taxi here so that I wouldn’t be drinking and driving. Are you ok to drive Drake?” she asked. “I have a driver waiting outside. So I could be stumbling drunk and you would still be safe,” I assured her, placing a hand on her lower back and guiding her towards the door.

When the door opened to the crisp night air, James pulled to the curb and I opened the door for Ingrid to slide in first. “Where to sir?” James asked once I had shut my door. “Home, James.”

Drake POV

When the car glides to a stop in front of the lobby of my building, I exit the car then extend my hand to assist Ingrid to exit as well. “This is a lovely building. Have you lived here long?” she asked, looking around with wide-eyed wonder. “A few years,” I nonchalantly replied. I built the building ten years ago when I decided I was bored with living at home and tired of paying for a hotel when the woman of the night didn’t live alone.

I guided Ingrid through the lobby to the bank of elevators, keying in my security code to call the lift. When the doors slid open I gestured for her to enter before me. I slid my card into the slot and the doors slid quietly closed and the lift began its ascent. “What floor do you live on Drake,” Ingrid asked, making polite conversation. I looked down at her staring up at me and smirked, “Penthouse Ingrid. Do you have a fear of heights?” I questioned. “No, I don't think I have ever been in a penthouse befor