Werecats and Werelocks (Collection)

by Dakota Cassidy

  A trickle of sweat slid between her breasts and her breathing was rapid, raspy as Christian allowed her body to float back to the bed. The soft mattress enveloped her when he lay over her fevered body and let his thick cock lie between them. Her hips had a mind of their own, pushing upward, seeking the final relief she so desperately needed.

  Christian obliged without hesitation. His thrust was smooth, assured and blazing hot. Their bodies seemed to meet and mesh like they'd done this many times before. There was no awkward moment of unsure restraint. They flowed together with the ease of lovers familiar, yet the excitement of teenagers, new to the act itself.

  He kissed her. Laying his mouth over hers, inhaling her groans, lapping at her tongue as his hips worked her, the crisp hair above his cock scraping her clit, he was so deeply imbedded in her.

  Felicity's groan of release fell into Christian's mouth as she came again, wrapping her arms around his neck, lifting her legs to rest high on his back.

  The jolt of his cock told her Christian joined her in release. Hot spurts of his semen flooded her as his body went rigid.

  Well, that sure beat tuna on whole wheat.

  Christian rose up on his arms and stared down at her, smiling and obviously quite pleased with himself. “'Fo shizzle, baby,” he said with a deep chuckle. “Now aren't you glad that we did that? It relieves tension, don't you agree, wife?"

  Wife ... she was not his wife. “I am not your wife. Why don't you explain to me how it is that I'm your wife, Aladdin? I thought when a genie was released from his bottle he owed the person who dumped him out of it three wishes. He didn't gain a wife."

  Christian smiled. “That's so last century. I can't owe you something because you're my wife. All I owe you is my love, precious, even if you can be a bit spirited. All I have to do is make you happy for an eternity. See what I mean, Brunhilda?"

  If only she could claim some of Brunhilda's skills ... “Look, I made a mistake. I must have done it when I came home drunker than a sailor. I was practicing my spell for class the next day, and poof! the next morning I wake up to you. I can't be someone's wife if I didn't mean it. I made a mistake and that means you have to go back to your bottle. I didn't mean to ask for a genie. I didn't mean to yank your ass out of your cushy Coke bottle. So, go home."

  "That was some mistake, huh?"

  Felicity snorted, “Yeah, no kidding. Now go home."

  "How do you make a mistake like that?"

  Blushing, she replied indignantly, “I—have—well, I'm dyslexic ... and I have short term memory problems. It makes it hard to remember spells and read them correctly. One wrong letter and shazam, stuff like conjuring you up happens. See my dilemma?"

  "Wow, babe. Sucks to be you."

  "Yeah, sucks to be me. So do you see what I mean here? I didn't mean to summon you. I mean, it helped with my class and all, but I didn't know it would give me a husband. I'm a witch. I can't have a genie as a husband! I belong to a coven. You belong to the I Dream of Jeannie club."

  "How very discriminatory of you. What do you have against genies anyway?” he asked as he slid from her body.

  "Nothing. We just don't marry out of our circle and you are definitely out of my circle."

  "Well, I guess it didn't matter when we wed. Make no mistake about it. I remember it clearly. Then we had a tiff and you flew into a hissy fit and banned me to my bottle, but I know my wife when I see her. How about we call Mom and Dad up and invite them over for dinner?"

  Yeah, wouldn't they be thrilled to know their last ditch effort to turn Felicity into a bona fide witch had gotten her married. “Um, no. No dinner. My parents are in another realm anyway. They aren't really happy with me right now and calling them and telling them I have a hubby ain't gonna sit well with them. Ya hear me knockin? I'm supposed to be learning the fine points of spell casting and stuff, not breaking out the new china."

  "I don't understand. Your parents loved me ... that's okay. I'll be your secret husband. I can live with that for now.” He held a finger up to his mouth in a silent “shhhhh."

  Felicity shook her head, her long auburn locks tumbling over her shoulders. “No, no and no. You are not my secret anything. We have to get a divorce. Now. So where do we do that? Do we file papers—see like the head Djinn? What's the rule about that?"

  Christian rolled over to look at her, his eyes twinkling. “Weeeelll, here's the thing. A divorce doesn't just happen. You have to go to trial and I think there's been like two divorces in the history of my sect of Djinn and that was only because two of the parties involved disappeared and couldn't be found. The other parties wanted to move on and remarry. Divorce is highly frowned upon where we come from. We believe in working out all marital discord."

  Thank you, Dr. Phil.

  "Why do I have to keep repeating all of this, Fatim—I mean, Felicity? You know the genie law."

  Oh, good. Great, in fact. Today was looking even better than yesterday. Yesterday she'd just had spell casting challenges. Today, she had that and a flippin’ husband who seemed to think she was his wife. A husband she couldn't get a divorce from, at least according to Christian. “Well, how about we do this then. You go back to where you came from and we'll have a long distance marriage. I'll call you..."

  His chuckle was clearly mocking her. “Um, no. I have nowhere to go back to. My bottle is gone and I can't get back to my realm without you. The Djinn are aware that I've been released from my penance now. Some sort of cosmic shift happens, sorta like a big genie memo, ya know? You would have to go back with me or no go. Besides, why would you want to ditch someone who rocks your boat in the sack?"

  Felicity got up and strolled nonchalantly to her kitchen, scooping up her new magic wand and waving it around. Maybe she could zap him back now that she had new hardware? She was a witch, for crap's sake. There was simply no reason why, even in her bumbling status, she couldn't at least turn him into a planter.

  Christian followed right behind her, still gloriously naked and bronzed, shaking a warning finger at her. “Don't even think about it, wife!"

  Felicity, never one to be ordered around, gave her wrist a flick and muttered, “Gift of life, be now gone. Break this union out on the—"

  "Can't remember the word, can you?” he mocked her with arms crossed over his broad chest and a cocked eyebrow.

  Fuck.

  Felicity grappled, her mind racing with words that rhymed with gone. She went over the spell in her head again. Gift of life, be now gone. Break this union out on the ... “Lawn!” she sputtered and made a wide circle with her new wand.

  An arc of light, pink and gold, whizzed before her eyes, just before everything went black.

  Shazam, this was some magic wand...

  "Um, Christian?” Felicity squeaked into the black void that was now her kitchen.

  She leaned an ear into the room.

  Not a peep.

  Niiiice.

  Well, that took care of that.

  Whatever she'd done, she'd done it right.

  Christian was toast.

  Of course that could be a very literal thought with a Felicity Speillman spell.

  Tee hee.

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  Chapter Four

  Felicity set about turning on the lights again manually as she fought the guilt that plagued her. Where did her spell send him? As Felicity recalled, it was a spell designed to send him back to where he came from. Hopefully, his Coke bottle had been restored to its former beauty and Christian was safely tucked away in it.

  She couldn't possibly be married. It was utterly insane. Especially not to a genie. Her parents would have her in Confused Magic Makers Anonymous before she could show them her pretty new wand.

  If she could only count on the fact that her spells were solid and know Christian was safely back where he belonged, she'd rest easier.

  Felicity made her way back to the bedroom and shrugged into a T-shirt and a pair of jeans, fending off her enormous guilt. He had to go
back. There were just no ifs, ands or buts about it.

  She would find a way to check on him.

  A knock at her door startled her out of her guilt trip as she flipped lights on and the sun faded to a blip on the horizon.

  Popping it open a crack, she eyeballed Amber, her green with envy classmate. “What can I do for you, Amber?"

  Amber's beady eyes pierced hers as she put a hand on Felicity's door and gave it a shove. “You can open this door right now, Felicity Speillman, and tell us where your ‘science project’ is."

  Swinging the door wide, Felicity bristled with anger. “He's gone, you jealous twit. I told you, I conjured him up and that means I can send him back. So that's what I did. I sent him back,” she said with a smug twitch of her nose. Felicity eyed all of her fellow wannabe witches, gathered ‘round Amber in obvious support.

  Amber flipped a strand of her long, straggly hair and narrowed her eyes at Felicity. “You did not, Felicity. You couldn't conjure up a Domino's pizza if they hand delivered it to your door and you know it. You were failing spell casting and that's just the truth. So how did you get the hunky genie? We deserve an answer because if you're cheating and screwing one of us out of first place in the class, you'll be sorry!” The crowd behind Amber grumbled with their support of Amber's statement. First place in the class meant the mac daddy of all brooms and Amber wanted that more than she wanted anything else. She'd do whatever it took to get it too.

  Felicity snorted. “And you're like what, Amber? David Copperfield? Gimme a break! You've cheated plenty and we both know it. How quickly we forget the black market love potion...” Felicity snapped the accusatory words out like the tail of an angry cat.

  Amber twittered and her face reddened as she shuffled from foot to foot.

  "Remember that, Amber? Who was it that fell in love with you, Amber? Was it a living, breathing human being? Um, no. It was Caroline's dog. Do you remember how he humped your leg forever while your army of sycophants helped you find the reversal spell? I do believe that's called cheating. Am I wrong, ladies?” Felicity looked out at the group of women as she pursed her lips and waited for Amber to answer.

  "We're not talking about me, Felicity. We're talking about you and your genie. How could you, almost the only witch on Castoffsphere who can't even conjure up a simple spell, get a spell like that right?” she demanded, her nasal voice slicing the air with a whine.

  "Well, somehow she did,” a voice called from outside. All heads turned toward her neighbor's thatched hut.

  Felicity poked her head out of her door and rolled her eyes. Damn it all!

  Christian waved to her from the white picket fence with a far too knowing hand. His bald head was just visible in the light of the outside lanterns. “Pumpkin? That was a splendid display of witchcraft. However, we did forget one little thing."

  "I thought he was gone,” Amber said pointedly.

  Felicity sighed. “I said he was gone, that I sent him away. I didn't say where he was gone to or where I sent him. Gone can mean a million things, Amber. Gone to the store. Gone fishing. It doesn't have to be another planet."

  "Sweetneeeesssss,” Christian called again with a singsong voice. “Um, my clothes. I need my clothes."

  For crap's sake! “I'll be right there, honeybuns,” she called as lovingly as she possibly could to continue this farce. Now shut the fuck up so I can think.

  The ripple of ooooohs and ahhhhhs in the crowd sent Felicity to find Christian's genie drawers tout de suite. She pushed past them and literally hurled them over the fence at his head with a hiss. “What the hell are you doing back? I sent you away!"

  "Well, clearly you didn't send me far. I believe you used the word lawn in that spell and I am standing on someone's very well kept one. Ya done good, F.” He grinned with all of his audacity.

  "Put those damn puffy MC Hammer pants on and get back over here!"

  He did that Yul Brynner thing with his eyebrow, all cocky and smug. “What about your friends? You have quite a crowd there."

  Felicity turned to her group of classmates just waiting to ogle her husband as she stomped her way toward them, seething. “Go home and take your witch posse with you. Hear me, Amber? Go practice with your old wand. I, on the other hand, am going to practice with my new one.” Hah! Never a more smugly satisfying diss was spoken.

  The crowd of witches cackled as Amber skulked off into the fading light, her pack of friends following her.

  Christian came up behind her and placed his hands on her waist, whispering in her ear. “How about we go inside and work on some more spells, lamb chop? Maybe this time you can hurl me across the Milky Way or something?"

  "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Felicity howled as she marched back into her hut on feet that were cold and wet, but fueled by her frustration. She turned to face him as he entered behind her, closing the door with a gentle nudge.

  "Look, you maniac! I am not your wife. I can't keep you. I have too much going on to even remember to feed my cat, let alone a husband!"

  "Well, here's the thought I had while I was in the neighbors’ backyard picking up my innards from the very green lawn. I don't know what they do over there, but it really is nice. Very lush. Maybe some special fertilizer? Anyway, how about I help you with this magic thing? I mean, I am a genie and seeing as you're so hell-bent on pretending to be a witch and whatever this dimension has, it seems to hold some kind of importance to you. So I'll play along with your wannabe witch tendencies, but I do have some tricks up my sleeve.” His confidence oozed from the stance he took in her kitchen, hands firmly planted on his narrow hips.

  "You don't have sleeves, Mr. Clean. Just pants that belong on an aging rapper and look who's talking about magic. You couldn't get yourself out of a bottle. How on Castoffsphere do you propose to help me?"

  "You know, pet, you scorn my affection, dump me unceremoniously on some Astroturf and now, you mock my ability to make hocus pocus. Quite frankly, I'm deeply hurt.” Christian hung his head in mock despair. “When a genie is banished to his bottle he can't hope to escape unless the person who banished him releases him, or someone summons him from the bottle. You, my wife, did just that. How can I thank you properly?"

  Felicity sauntered over to him and jabbed a finger in his ribs. It was time to straighten some stuff out because this was making about as much sense as a bowl of Lucky Charms without the marshmallows. In essence, the already crazy world she lived in was becoming crazier still. “Okay, I need some answers. First of all, when did we get married?"

  "The year was nineteen twenty-two. We lived in Hollywood at the time, now known as L.A."

  "That was eighty-three years ago!"

  "Yep, it was. Happy anniversary, baby,” Christian said with a grin. “Come gimme a kiss to celebrate.” Pulling Felicity to him, he ran a light finger down her nose.

  "Stop it. I wasn't around eighty-three years ago, Christian. That's impossible."

  "I think you're teasing me, sweetheart. You were pretty wigged over my so-called indiscretion and you did have quite the fit. Maybe you're the one telling fibs here. You couldn't still be angry now, could you?” He cocked his head to look down at her with laughing eyes.

  "We have to get some stuff straight. I might look like your wife, but I'm not. I can't be. It's cosmically impossible. There has been some kind of crazy mix up. I'm a witch. Fatima was a genie. Biiiig dif in our worlds there, Kojak. I'm sure it had to do with my lame attempt at witchcraft. I was drunk ... but I'm not the wife who banished you to your Coke bottle.” Felicity leaned back in his arms and pursed her lips. “Whatdja do to piss her off, anyway? It must have been something really awful, huh? Eighty-three years in a bottle is almost a lifer."

  "You know what I did, sweetums, but humoring you seems to work better than fighting the tide. You claimed I was flirting with some young starlets at a party. You flew into a rage. You said some hocus pocus, mumbo jumbo and then, bam—instant bottle."

  Flirting? Just for flirting? Wee doggie, his
wife must have been some jealous wench. “Isn't eighty-three years an awfully loooong time to banish you? How come she could do that and you couldn't do anything to stop it?"

  Christian leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. “You, er, I mean she was one irate genie, honey, and eighty-three years to a genie doesn't seem like much when you consider some are stuck in bottles and lamps for centuries. We are immortal,” he reminded her.

  Yeah, immortal. “Okay, then, why don't you explain something else, snookums. How is it that you seem pretty well versed in the new millennium? You don't sound at all unfamiliar with the slang or culture in the new millennium. I think you're full of horse puckey."

  "Just because I was stuck in my bottle doesn't mean I couldn't stay current. I can still use my magic, per se. I just couldn't get out of my bottle. So I whipped up a thing or two to keep me in the know. Like newspapers and satellite TV. I was far too addicted to that Home Shopping Network."

  A hip, cool, informed genie, eh? Only Felicity Speillman could have conjured up a genie that looked like Yul Brynner and talked like Snoop Dog ... She repeated the phrase that had become second nature to her. “I am not your wife, Christian."

  "I think you are and you're still just a wee bit angry with me. I can help to make that better,” he whispered as he let his lips slide over the arch in her neck.

  Felicity found herself bowing her body into his and then caught herself. She pushed off his strong forearms. “Uh, no. We have more talking to do, Aladdin."

  "You really are misinformed about your genies. Aladdin was not a genie."

  "Whatever. So where was this bottle again?"

  "Well, I was in Hollywood and then what became L.A. Buried under a house was my best estimation. Like I said, I'd frosted your Wheaties. You were pissed.” Christian chuckled, his firm belly shifting against her own.

  If she could just remember what had brought Christian here in the first place. “What I still don't understand is how I got you here? I can't even remember the spell I was shooting for."