by Eton, Kris
Demetria's smile grew even wider. "Smart choice, my dear. A magical gift like that is a burden. I understand."
The older witch’s words fell on deaf ears. Marissa couldn't care less what the old hag had to say. This was a way out.
Demetria snapped her fingers, and a parchment materialized out of thin air. A little shadow of doubt crossed Marissa’s mind at that moment. The warning words of her mother echoed in her head. She pushed them away and focused her mind on Justin. She’d win him over with her heart and not her kiss. Her kiss would be gone, and she could leave this empty life behind. This is what she wanted.
Marissa pricked a finger and signed the document in her own blood. Demetria followed. A shower of bright blue sparks exploded from the paper. It curled up on its own, and a black wax seal appeared. If someone cheated or broke the bet, the other party would win. It had been sealed. It was real. No backing out now. No changing her mind.
"The first touch of your lips against any man's mouth, you lose. If you reveal anything about the bet, it’s over. You understand?" Demetria tucked the rolled and sealed parchment into her belt. "Your power will be mine, and the man you pursue will be lost to you."
Marissa touched her fingers to her lips. The power remained with her for now. Clarity of mind returned, and it dawned on her how difficult this challenge would be. She'd always used her kiss as a way to seduce, a way to trick, a way to get what she wanted. Now she'd have to try something new. Although confident she could succeed, a small bit of doubt crept into her heart. She pushed all negative thoughts away.
"I hope you're ready to lose, Demetria." She thought of Justin and his dimpled smile. He'd always kept his distance from her, but she'd done the same. Time to rectify that little problem. She shouldn't have any trouble getting him to fall in love with her. She was Marissa, after all. Her beauty drew the men in first, before the kiss took hold. This time would be no different. She'd turn on the charm, lay it on thick, and he'd be falling all over himself to get close to her. Wouldn't he?
Demetria's laughter cut into her thoughts. The witch hovered above the ground, and her body spun. Faster and faster. She whirled so quickly, she became a blur of black and gray. A moment later, she disappeared completely.
For the first time in years, Marissa's heart felt lighter than air. Free. She'd tried a few times in her younger years to attract men without her magical kiss to shake things up a bit. Back then she’d enjoyed finding out how far she could take it before she had to enchant them. She liked sex rough, hard even. Pain mixed with pleasure. Men wanted to be the ones in charge in the bedroom, she’d discovered early on. An aggressive woman could be a turn off. Targeting men who liked to be in control became a game for her. The only sad thing was, they never remembered it in the morning. How they'd begged for her to let them climax, or touch her, or lick her.
Now things would be different. What it would be like to have Justin willingly fuck her brains out? What it would be like to have his hard, muscled body trembling for her? When morning came, he'd remember it all. Each moment of passion. Each touch. He would belong to her, completely and without magic. She fell asleep on her couch, her mind lost in a fantasy.
Chapter Three
Justin kept an eye on the growing crowd inside the pub. Since Santa Cruz was a college town, even Tuesday nights were party nights. Tonight, young men and women packed the bar to listen to a popular Celtic rock band. A hard, rhythmic drumbeat filled the room. Justin grimaced. He needed to buy some earplugs before this place made him deaf.
John, his fellow bouncer, jabbed him in the ribs. "Looks who's back. The Siren."
Justin caught sight of Marissa as she entered the pub. He and John hadn’t nicknamed her ‘the Siren’ for nothing. Like the Greek myth, Marissa lured men to their doom. She’d entice them into bed and leave them with no memory of what had happened.
Even with that knowledge, Justin couldn’t stop staring. She wore a sexy silver halter dress that flowed loose around her long, beautiful legs and had a deep V, which showed off her cleavage. A star pendant hung between her breasts, drawing attention to the amount of flesh she had chosen to display that evening. Lots.
Goddamn that woman knew how to get every man's eye on her.
His dick jumped in his pants. His willpower was no match for his hormones.
She slinked up to him, her unfettered breasts bouncing enticingly. She'd painted her eyes with dark makeup, which emphasized their cool gray-green shade.
He expected her to greet him, ask him a friendly question or two, and then move on to the bar. There she’d pick out the lucky guy who got to see her out of the dress.
For a moment, he wished he could see Marissa naked and those long, long legs spread for him.
He shook his head to get rid of the image. This was Marissa Glenn. The Siren. A man-eater who loved them and left them like Jana, his faithless fiancée. She’d give a sexy smile, a reassurance he was the only man for her, and then move on to the next willing partner. He gritted his teeth at the memory of Jana’s betrayal.
Marissa placed a hand on his arm. "How've you been, Justin?" She stood a hair too close. Her citrus perfume wafted toward him. Marissa gave him a slow smile, and her eyes burned green fire.
His gaze met hers, and he cleared his throat. "Fine." He couldn't find any words when she looked at him like that.
"I thought I might hang out with you two for awhile, until the crowd dies down some. Is that okay?" A table with a few stools stood next to them. No one ever wanted to sit this close to the entrance, so he and John kept bottles of water and a bowl of peanuts handy. She hopped up on a stool and crossed her lean, lovely legs. Her skirt rode up her thighs.
Justin snapped his gaze back to the crowd. He wasn't going to fall for her game. He'd watched her enough times to know exactly what she was up to.
"Go for it," John said to the Siren. "We could use the company."
Justin wanted to kill his co-worker. First, there’d been Sunday morning's weird cup of coffee, and now this. Marissa was up to something. But why? He thought they had an easy friendship going. She did her thing with the men at the pub. He stayed out of it. They shared a few jokes, a drink or two. All light, easy fun. The kind of relationship he could handle with a woman. Platonic. With distinct lines neither of them had ever tried to cross . . . until now.
If she wanted to play a game, he'd take it right to her. "So, which one's it going to be tonight? The black guy in the football jersey standing at the end of the bar, or Mr. Motorcycle Gang with all the tattoos over there?"
John raised his brows.
"Excuse me?" Marissa shifted in her seat. He thought she couldn't get any sexier, but he was wrong. The minute she got her dander up, she went a few steps higher on the hot ladder. Her eyes snapped, her curvy body tensed, her wide, pretty mouth screwed up in a pout.
"You heard me. Which one of those two guys are you going to pick tonight?" He smiled. "Come on, we've seen you in here three or four days a week for months. Always the same routine. Never the same guy twice."
She blushed. The sexy, gorgeous siren actually blushed. For one split second he thought maybe he'd misjudged her somehow.
"You've been watching me?"
"Hard to keep my eyes off someone as beautiful as you, sugar."
"Would you believe me if I told you all of those other men were just for practice?"
"Are you training for the Olympics? Because I've never seen an athlete more dedicated than you."
"Am I supposed to take that as a compliment or an insult?"
"Both." Now he felt comfortable again. She'd dialed down the overt sexuality she'd walked in with and had turned into Marissa again. Yes, she was still beautiful, but now he'd brought her back down to earth. She was just as vulnerable as he. "So, which one is it?"
She didn't even look toward the bar. She kept her gaze entirely focused on him. He shifted from one foot to the other. A bead of sweat slid into his collar.
"Neither. I've found the one I want t
onight."
John gave a low whistle. "Think I'll go get us a couple more bottles of water." The bouncer stepped between them and headed for the bar.
Justin watched John disappear into the crowd. "You're joking."
"I'm serious. You. Me. Tonight."
The band’s pounding drums grew louder and louder. The bartender flipped on the ceiling fans as the heat grew in the crowded room.
Justin couldn't think straight.
There was a popping noise. Then another. The crowd jumped. The loud conversations broke up into gasps and squeals.
One more pop, and the pub plunged into darkness.
A woman screamed.
Justin couldn't see his hand in front of his face. He reached for the flashlight he’d left on Marissa’s table. His hand touched something soft and warm. "Oh, sorry." He pulled his hand back.
The crowd rushed past them into the pitch-black night. The streetlights that normally illuminated the parking lot were out.
A hand clutched his.
Marissa.
He could smell her. Her soft body pressed up against him.
Driven by purely masculine impulses, he pulled her against him and curved an arm around her waist, protecting her from the dozens of frightened pub patrons fleeing out the door.
The feel of her rounded backside up against his groin lit a fire inside him. A fire fueled solely by instinct and hormones. Any man would react the same way. He fought against it and willed his cock to stand down.
For a woman who’d seemed hell-bent on seducing him this evening, she was surprisingly quiet and meek in his arms.
"I can't see." Her voice was a squeak amidst the chaos surrounding them.
He leaned down and whispered in her ear. "It's okay. Most of them are outside now. A transformer must've blown or something. The lights are out on the street, too." Did it mean anything that he found her scent intoxicating? The orange blossom sweetness filled his nose. He wanted to lean in closer, tickle her neck with his lips, dip his hand inside her dress and . . . .
"Stay with me." Her hand clamped down on his.
Beneath the silky fabric of her skimpy dress was a warm, live woman. If he moved his hand just to the left, he could touch her hipbone. Is this how she did it? Is this how she lured men to her? With her softness? With her delicious, sweet scent? Even blindfolded a man would know she was beautiful by those two things alone.
For a moment, he understood how they could fall for her. How they could want to bury themselves between her thighs. Get a taste of that sweetness. Know what it was like, even for one night, to have something that tender, that delicious, that lovely all to themselves.
The room settled into quietness. Everyone had made their way outside, including John, the bartender, and the manager.
The dark was so complete no one had noticed the two of them, flush against the wall, holding each other.
He couldn't let go.
The manager leaned into the open doorway. "Is anyone inside?"
Justin opened his mouth, but Marissa pressed her fingers to his mouth. A quiet entreaty for them to remain in the dark, empty bar just a little bit longer.
The lock clicked as the manager shut everything down for the night, locking them inside.
Chapter Four
The dark was a living entity that insulated them from the outside world. Justin rubbed her abdomen in slow circles, a move he hadn't used since he broke it off with Jana months ago. It was automatic. That kind of move gave the impression he wanted more. He knew it wrong, but he couldn't stop. Marissa was no good, yet was helpless to the rising desire inside.
She made a low sound of satisfaction and arched her buttocks into him.
He settled his other arm under her breasts, his fingers touching the curved underside of one of them. Her nipple was only inches away from his fingertips, a tight bud under the silken softness of her dress. He ached to touch it. His dick pressed painfully against the zipper of his jeans.
God, this was wrong. This was Marissa the Siren. The woman who stepped out with so many guys, he’d lost count. He didn’t matter to her; no doubt, she saw him as one more guy in a long line of conquests.
She turned and, in a flash, pinned his arms against the wall.
He laughed and moved to break free, but she was much stronger than she looked.
"Don't play a game you don't mean to finish." Her voice was sexy and low. "I don't like being teased."
As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he became fully aware of how close they were. The outline of her naked shoulders and the edge of her jaw were visible in the faint moonlight streaming in through the windows.
"I'm not playing any game." He tried again to break free. How could someone so slight, so feminine, be so damn strong?
She let go of one of his arms and squeezed his dick through his jeans. He gasped at the intimacy.
"You're the one who started it.” Her grip on his cock grew tighter, almost painful.
"Jesus." Raw emotions surfaced. Fresh wounds. The last time he'd been intimate with a woman, he thought he'd been in love. But Marissa's hard, grasping hand had nothing to do with love, and everything to do with lust. Pure, mindless lust.
She unzipped his fly. When she touched his naked cock his mind narrowed down to one thing: sex.
He leaned down, knowing her mouth was close to his. He wanted to know what those lips felt like against his. He imagined them to be pillowy-soft. His free hand snaked behind her neck, and he pulled at her hair.
"Let go." Marissa stilled her hand and released his cock. "Only touch me when I order you to. Never before.
His cock throbbed. His balls were so tight, they hurt. He needed her hand on his dick. He needed what she could give him. It had been too long. He had been too lonely. Whatever she wanted. However she wanted. He'd do it. What would it matter if he gave in this once?
He released her and dropped his hands to his sides.
* * *
Marissa fisted his erection once more. God, he was thick and heavy. Powerful. She had him obeying her without any magic. She had control using only her hand. Maybe this bet would be easier to win than she’d thought. She thumbed the tip of his dick, and he shivered.
The only sex she’d ever experienced had been when men were under her magical spell. What would Justin think of her needs? Would he panic and run?
She let go of his cock and unbuttoned his shirt.
"Christ." He let his arms fall at his sides. "Don't do this. I can't . . ." His hand touched her thigh and slid up under her hem. "I have to touch you."
She pushed him away. "I make the rules. You obey." This wasn't how it worked. She told the man to touch her, he touched her. She told the man to kiss her, he kissed her. She told the man to fuck her, he fucked her. Men she hadn’t enchanted with her kiss were obviously more difficult to keep in line. Anxious. Needy.
She spread her hands over his muscular chest. He curved his body away from her. "I've got to . . . I need to . . . fuck." He grabbed for her, cupped her face, and pulled her toward his mouth.
"No." She slapped him hard across the cheek. "No kissing."
"Damn, woman, what do you want from me?"
She had to keep him under her control, and if she couldn’t do it with words, she'd have to improvise. "Come with me." She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the bar where the shadows were thicker, the darkness more complete.
"What are you doing?" Her grasp was firm.
"My game, my rules. Get up on the bar."
"What?"
"Lay down on the bar."
"You've got to be joking."
Oh dear God this was hard.
She latched onto his cock, still free of his jeans, and stroked it. "No, I am not."
He grunted and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Have you ever heard of blue balls?"
"Get on the bar. Then we'll see what I can do for your condition."
"This is insane," he muttered, but made his way to the bar. "What the fuck am I doing?"
>
"I don't think you'll regret your choice in about five minutes."
He climbed on the wooden bar and lay flat on his back. "Okay, now what?"
From her purse she pulled four men's ties. Knowing she couldn’t use magic this time, she’d come prepared.
He eyed the ties. "Are you serious?"
She looped one end around his left wrist and tied the other end tight to the barstool that was bolted to the floor. "As serious as a heart attack." She did the same to his left ankle, tying it to another bar stool. "If you want me to stop, I'll stop. Everything." She knew he wouldn't say no. His dick was so hard, the only thing that would give him some relief was a good old-fashioned fucking.
He said nothing.
She took his silence as a sign that he agreed to the arrangement and slid across the bar on her ass, her dress riding high to expose the plain white panties she wore underneath. Damp white panties. Just thinking about how she'd torture him was getting her wetter by the minute.
She took another tie and secured his right hand to the mini-fridge handle under the counter. The fourth and final tie she secured to his right ankle and tied it to the handle on the beer keg.
"I must be fucking insane."
"No, just horny." She checked all the ties to make sure they were tight. She climbed up on the bar, this time kneeling over his stomach with one knee on either side of his body. She rested her ass on his groin and trapped his hard cock between her legs. The thick length pressed against her panty-covered clit. She rocked back and forth, feeling his hardness against her most sensitive part.
Then, it dawned on her. When this night was over he'd remember everything. For a second she hesitated. What would he think of her? He had to fall in love with her, not just fuck her. What if her demands freaked him out?
She looked down at her captive. The lights snapped on.
There, in the dim glow of the canned lights above the bar, she was face to face with the man she'd dreamed about having. He wasn't just some warm, fuckable body. He talked to her like a human being. She’d sensed the hurt within him, even when she flirted with him. He had some past injury that kept him from getting too close. He’d always been a gentleman. Until tonight.