Cast a Lover's Spell

by Claire Thompson

  “We’ll do the spell in here,” he said, opening a narrow door next to the bookshelves. Anne followed him into a smaller room, this one dark, its walls draped in black velvet. Instead of turning on a light, Paul lit a number of thick tall candles set about the room on tall tapering iron stands. He gestured toward a daybed, “You might as well relax. This will take a few minutes.”

  Anne, who was wearing one of Paul’s pajama tops, its sleeves hanging past her hands, obediently plopped onto the daybed, sitting with her legs crossed in the center of it while she watched the warlock in his preparations.

  Carefully Paul set the crystal orb on a stand near the daybed. Moving to a sideboard, he lit a fire under a burner upon which rested a small iron pot. He poured liquid in a silver stream from the green bottle until it was empty. From the blue bottle he added only a few drops, which sizzled and hissed as they touched the silver brew. Finally he added a pinch of vivid pink powder, whispering something guttural and unfamiliar to mortal ears as he stirred the potion with a silver ladle.

  As the potion began to heat, the room was filled with a strange, pungent scent. Retrieving the crystal ball, Paul said, “Let’s get comfortable here. I’ll sit back and you lean against me.” Paul, who was wearing the bottom half of the pajamas that matched the top Anne was wearing, settled on the bed. He put one strong leg on either side of Anne, who snuggled back against his bare chest. Carefully he placed the ball on the bed between Anne’s legs, gently gripping it in his large, capable hands as his arms went around her.

  As he murmured, his eyes closed in concentration, the dark gray orb began to change, its colors shifting, first to a pale silvery gray then to an opaque white and finally to a clear crystal so the faded velvet bedspread showed beneath it. The heady scent of magic was ripe in the air of the small room, the vision potion now at its most potent.

  “I’m not that good at this really, but I can show you something from my past. Let me think.” He paused, staring up at the ceiling as if the answer might be there. “How about way back when I was ten? I was a just a dormant fledgling then. It was before Theo, my warlock mentor, discovered me. Before I learned my natural instincts with animals had more to do with magic than any innate skill on my part.”

  Paul fell silent as the orb began to darken again. Anne’s soft warm body against his made it somewhat difficult to concentrate but he didn’t care. He wanted her there. Closing his eyes, he moved his hands over the orb. Slowly it began to glow, seeming to light up from inside. All at once it revealed a pastoral scene of rolling hills and waving fields of purple and gray-green heather.

  Anne breathed softly. “It’s like a movie in there,” she whispered. “That’s amazing. Look at that castle.” She shifted against Paul’s chest, her lower back pressed at his groin. Paul forced himself to ignore the sweet pressure against his cock, focusing instead on the moving images contained in the crystal.

  “That’s Windsor Castle actually. And that winding river is the Thames. But the memory is more personal. My father owned horse stables. See there.” He moved his finger over an area of the globe and the scene enlarged, revealing a large wooden building and an even larger fenced-in enclosure. A young boy was clinging to the back of a black stallion.

  “Is that you, Paul? Just a boy on such a huge horse! What was your father thinking, to allow you on that horse, barebacked at that?”

  “My father knew I could handle that particular horse when others could not. He came to us for a song because the previous trainer couldn’t control him. They were going to put him down or set him back in the wild—he was that difficult. We’d had him for about a week I think, when I finally dared to mount him.

  “This memory remains with me because I have never forgotten that horse, even these centuries later. I called him Shadow because he was black. Not very original, I grant you.” Paul laughed and then sighed, remembering. “My father allowed me to keep him for my own and I loved him more than most humans I have known.”

  In the orb the boy was very still on the horse, more draped over his neck than sitting on his back. He was stroking the horse’s mane, his face pressed against the horse’s head. Paul remarked, “It took me about four hours to get to that point. This is after a week of just staying near him. Not too near but close by. I would leave him treats—apples mostly, he loved apples. That day was the first time I’d actually mounted him. I knew once I’d done that, I’d win him over.

  “Though I didn’t realize it at the time, that was my magic kicking in. I could focus and actually enter the beast’s mind in a way. Not as easily as I can penetrate a human mind with its cognizant thought processes and sentience. But a horse has a mind too, you know. They have feelings as well, that can be tapped into and harnessed.

  “Once I’d succeeded in getting close enough, I would hum into their sensitive ears. A tuneless hum that somehow lulled the animal into a trancelike state. Then I could telepathically suggest the behaviors I wanted, suggest that they were calm, they were safe, I was to be trusted. I didn’t understand then it was magic or that I would develop and hone the skill, using it on mortals to much greater effect.”

  He grew silent as they watched the horse suddenly rear up. Anne drew in her breath sharply, her eyes locked on the image. The boy clung to the horse’s neck, his strong legs tight against its flanks, his face still pressed flat against its head. The horse calmed after a time, again standing still.

  Anne shifted against Paul. “This is so much to take in. I don’t know whether to believe it’s real or just some elaborate trick you’ve been playing on me.”

  The orb darkened, the image lost as Paul’s concentration was broken by her words. Paul stroked Anne’s bare thigh, her skin soft as satin. “Perhaps you don’t need to decide anything at all right now, except whether you’d like me to make love to you right here or carry you back to my bedroom where I can ravage you in greater comfort.”

  Anne giggled and pressed her cheek against Paul’s bare chest. “Well, wench. Answer when you’re spoken to.” Paul’s voice had become stern but the twinkle in his eye belied his words.

  “How about the bathtub?” Anne suggested shyly.

  Anne hadn’t properly appreciated Paul’s lavish master bath the night before, having only used the toilet located in a side stall next to the bathroom and splashing water on her face before tumbling back into bed with her new lover. Today she looked around the room in awe, impressed not only with its elegant luxury but the beautiful attention to detail. Instead of traditional sinks, there were two large bowls of hand-blown green-tinted glass resting on a long black marble counter, gold faucets perched over them. A large antique-framed mirror hung over each bowl. Wall sconces were set into the sea-green tiled walls on either side of the mirrors. There was a tall armoire along one wall. The floors were white marble with thick black bath rugs scattered about. The windows were of stained glass in simple but pleasing geometric designs.

  The sunken bathtub was huge with gold faucets curving over either end like lilies swaying on their stalks. The curving wall surrounding the tub was inlaid with Italian mosaic tiles. But what most enchanted Anne was the chandelier suspended over the tub. Instead of light bulbs, long white candles were set in concentric circles amidst the crystal.

  “That’s so beautiful. But how do you light it? And don’t the candles drip? It doesn’t look very convenient but it’s lovely nonetheless.”

  Paul smiled at her and said, “Not all witchcraft is devoted to casting spells on innocent mortals. Sometimes it’s just a matter of practicality.” He waved his hand toward the chandelier, murmuring his strange secret language and voila. The candles lit by magic, the light of the fire sending a rainbow of color through the prisms of the cut crystal teardrops. Anne couldn’t help but clap her hands in delighted approval.

  Paul next turned his attentions to the tub, bending to touch the tall gold faucets. The water began to the fill the tub as the room swirled with steam. Again Paul murmured, this time dropping something into the
water as he did so.

  “Now this I have got to learn.” Anne laughed as a tub that should have taken half hour was in a matter of seconds filled with hot, delicately scented water. Paul turned to her, his expression suddenly serious as he gazed at her, the tub for the moment forgotten. Slowly he began to unbutton the pajama top and Anne stilled, her large gray-green eyes watching his long, strong fingers.

  He slid the top from her shoulders, dropping it on the floor as he pulled her close, bending to kiss her. Anne closed her eyes, lifting her face to his, torn between a desire to see more of this mysterious man’s amazing magic and just accepting the magic of his kiss. The room was warm with steam from the tub but still Anne shivered as Paul bent lower, catching her sensitive nipple between his teeth.

  He pulled it erect, drawing a moan from the girl. Moving to the other breast, white teeth flashed against her pink nipple now darkening and engorging with desire. His hands moved down her slender sides, pushing the silky fabric of her panties as they went. Paul knelt, wrapping his arms around Anne’s waist, resting his cheek against her soft pubic curls, his hands cupping the round globes of her ass.

  All at once the image of Greg suddenly loomed in Anne’s mind and heart. She’d barely thought about him these past twenty-four hours, caught in the loving grip of this amazing warlock. Guilt assailed her as she recalled how Greg used to kneel like this, wrapping his arms around her, whispering his love for her.

  She reached down to stroke the masculine head at her waist, almost expecting for an instant to see Greg’s head, not the balding wrinkled scalp he’d been left with after chemotherapy, but the full head of sunny blond hair usually in need of a cut.

  Paul’s dark tresses gleamed darkly beneath her hand. He dropped his arms and slowly stood again. “I am not entering your mind,” he said softly, “but I can read in the way you’re holding your body, suddenly stiff and withdrawn from me, that something is troubling you. What is it, my love? Are your memories haunting you?”

  Anne nodded, tears filling her eyes. “I shouldn’t have suggested the tub. Greg and I used to take baths together on lazy Sunday mornings. It was our snuggly time. That’s what he called it.” Her voice cracked a little.

  Gently Paul took her hand, leading her to the edge of the huge sunken tub. Light danced over the water’s surface, reflected from the candles shining through the cut crystal above. “Water is healing. Soak in the tub, sweetheart. I’ll shower if you prefer. We don’t need to rush whatever this new thing between us is. We have as much time as you need, I promise.”

  Despite the sudden sadness, Anne couldn’t resist the allure of the steaming, richly scented water. She put a foot into it, testing its heat and then climbed in. She let out a sigh of pure physical pleasure as the water enveloped her. She sank back against the softly sloping side of the tub until she was covered to the chin.

  Paul stood smiling down at her though his eyes looked sad. Anne felt a tug in her heart for this strange, beautiful man who had somehow fallen into her life. Greg was gone—she knew that. She also knew he couldn’t have wanted her to mourn forever. Yet the overlay of his spirit pressing over hers made any thought of lovemaking in the water untenable. Still, Anne reached out her hand and said softly, “Please. This is your home. We’ve made love and slept in the same bed. It’s ridiculous that you shouldn’t bathe with me. Come in while the water’s hot.”

  “It will stay hot, another perk of witchcraft.” Paul grinned as he slipped off his pajama pants, needing no further invitation. Anne couldn’t help but admire his strong, graceful physique as he slid into the water across from her, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

  Anne unconsciously licked her lips as she devoured the sight of his strong, masculine neck and the smooth, beautifully sculpted pectoral muscles, flexed as he stretched his arms out along the thick marble edge of the bathtub. She could see his naked body through the water, though it was tinted a pale blue-green from the fragrant oil he had added.

  Her body recalled his as she gazed at his masculine beauty. She had thought until Paul had taken her in his arms she was defective, sexually speaking. She had never orgasmed with a man, not through intercourse. Yet with Paul she had come each time, and not just timorous tremors that left one wondering if it had been a climax or just a shudder of pleasure. No, what she had experienced in his arms and by his cock had been unquestionably orgasmic.

  The first time she had later chalked up to his devious magical manipulation of her body and soul, but last night there had been no witchcraft. Magic, yes, but of the mortal kind. Anne shifted in the hot, soft water, her pussy tingling and swelling between her legs. Paul sat immobile across from her, his head back, his eyes closed.

  Slowly Anne sidled along the smooth marble seat that ringed the inside of the tub. Paul didn’t move as she slid next to him, cautiously leaning her head against his chest. She could feel his heart, a steady strong pulse against her cheek and it calmed her. If he had taken her in his arms at that moment she would have succumbed, letting him kiss her, letting him do as he would.

  But Paul did not move. He sat still as stone, a warm, living statue with blood and water heating his skin. Anne waited, closing her own eyes, pushing slightly closer so he could feel her lithe soft body nestling into the curve of his side. Paul shifted very slightly to accommodate her movements but otherwise remained still and blind.

  After a minute or two Anne opened her eyes and sat up, turning to see why her lover wasn’t responding as she’d expected. Was he rejecting her now since she’d rejected him? Was he hurt because the spirit of her dead husband still lingered from time to time in her heart? That was petty surely. Was he going to deny her now as a result?

  Stop it, idiot. Anne admonished herself. Hadn’t she just five minutes earlier rejected his overtures? Hadn’t she told herself the thought of making love now was quite impossible? Yet here she was, pressing up against him like a slut in heat, affronted because he didn’t take her there and then.

  Anne grinned ruefully and leaned back next to Paul, staring up at the candles, their flames casting a soft glimmering light over the water. She felt she could soak here forever. This luxury had ruined her for her humble old claw-footed tub waiting back home.

  Anne let her hand fall on Paul’s thigh. She resisted her desire to squeeze the strong muscles or to move her fingers upward toward his groin. She slid her eyes toward him and then turned her head as she saw he remained in repose, his eyes shut, his breathing slow and even. Was the man asleep?

  Tentatively Anne reached down again, this time shamelessly feeling for his cock. Ah! She couldn’t help the self-satisfied grin. Perhaps he was sleeping, but his cock was not. It was fully erect, bobbing gently in the water as her fingers closed around it. She recalled his earlier words— We don’t need to rush whatever this new thing between us is. So, he was giving her space. He was playing it cool while she found herself getting increasingly hot.

  Yet his body couldn’t lie. He could pretend to be asleep, but his cock was very much awake. Anne’s grin was wide now as she gripped his member more firmly, slowly gliding up and down its length, pulling it to an even more erect state. With her other hand, Anne gently cupped his balls, feeling them tighten against her fingers.

  Standing, she moved in front of the warlock, looking down on his still-featured face. She bent to kiss his mouth, her lips only grazing his. Paul did not react, unless a flutter of eyelids could be considered reaction.

  Taking a deep breath, Anne lowered herself completely into the water at Paul’s feet, her head submerged in the warm wet silence, her eyes closed as she guided herself to his cock. Anne slipped her mouth over it, swallowing its length until she closed her lips tightly at the base of his shaft.

  She felt Paul’s hands grabbing handfuls of her streaming wet hair as he held her in place a moment, savoring her hot mouth on his penis. Anne needed to resurface for air but his hands were firmly entwined in her hair, holding her locked below the surface. In a panic she pulle
d back and at once Paul released her.

  She felt his hands gripping her under the arms, lifting her not only out of the water but high up into his strong arms. She didn’t realize what he was doing as she found herself held firmly in his grip, her legs on either side of his head, her ass balanced against his strong forearms as he gripped her hips, her sex splayed wetly at his mouth.

  The statue had come alive with a vengeance. Anne squirmed and struggled a moment in his strong grip but stilled and sighed as his tongue made contact with her pussy. Slow, long licks like a cat lapping its cream made her moan and go limp, completely trusting in his strength to hold her.

  “Oh, oh, oh,” Anne murmured, unaware she was making a sound. His tongue sent wave after wave of intense pleasure through her nerve endings as he angled her just so to make the most intimate contact possible. Anne grabbed Paul’s head, holding tightly as he kissed and suckled her sensitive flesh, drawing orgasm after orgasm from her until she began to squeal, jerking in his strong arms, her body shuddering in spasms of pure sensation.

  Paul lifted himself out of the water, perching on the thick edge of the marble surrounding the tub. Slowly he lowered the shuddering, moaning girl into his lap, his movements easy and confident as if she weighed no more than a child. He held her in his arms and she could feel his heart thudding sweetly next to her own pounding pulse.

  She could feel his cock, hard as iron pressed beneath her thigh. Shifting, she lifted herself slightly, allowing it to nestle at her swollen, tender sex. She moved so the tip was just touching her entrance, poising herself over his heavy shaft, eager for him despite the multiple orgasms he’d just wrested from her.

  Paul kissed her, lifting her slightly by her hips, holding her so she couldn’t lower herself onto him. She kissed him back, loving the taste of him, the feel of his lips and tongue, the sandpapery roughness of his stubbled cheek against her soft one. She tried to lower her body, her pussy wet and in need of filling, but his strong hands held her at abeyance.