How Wicked-er Can She Go?

by J. Morgan

  The rest of our dinner was pure torture for me. On one hand I really wanted to tell him the truth and on the other hand I still wanted to jump his bones and screw that man outta my hair. My mind waffled back and forth between the two during the main course. Thankfully, he didn't try to engage me into a lengthy conversation. Dion's magic in the kitchen had his mind and taste buds fully occupied. I almost convinced myself my feelings were sexually motivated.

  When the baklava hit the table, the urge to psychoanalyze flew out the window—emphasis on psycho. I ask you, what man compares to a rich pastry dripping with sin? Besides, I needed the sugar boost. If I had to ruin his life, I'd at least leave him with fond memories and fodder for future wet dreams. Feeling a little better about my wickedness, I found myself in the mood to hurt somebody, or at the very least, make them walk funny for a week or two. Ooohh ... I think I just heard a demon get his horns. That means my wicked was back and ready for a little action.

  Excuse me while I lick my lips, and I don't mean from the baklava.

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  Chapter 11

  From then, I moved the evening into overdrive. I'd wasted all my patience back at Dion's. If it hadn't been for a lead foot spell by yours truly, we'd still be puttering around the back roads looking for daylight. For a geek, Gregory drove like an old man on life support. If you owned a flashy sports car, a vintage Corvette no less, you owed it to the cosmic balance to wrack up as many tickets as the law allowed before they snatched your license. A lesson Gregory desperately needed to learn. By the time we reached the house, he'd garnered two of them and a stern warning that next time he'd see jail time. Am I wicked or what?

  So, when we reached the house he was noticeably upset but exhilarated to learn his car could do mach three. With a spring to his step, Gregory escorted me to my front door, totally unaware I had another bone jumping planned. He was lucky I'd upgraded him to the bonus package. He closed the door behind us with a loud bang. I winced at the sound of the door hitting the fractured frame. No, I still hadn't gotten around to fixing the damn thing. For all I knew, he'd let loose all manner of pixie shit into my house. I took a casual peek behind me, trying not to draw the attention of anything that might have drifted through. The only thing I saw was a haze of sparkling dust fading into the woodwork. Guess I'd dodged a bullet with that one.

  I threw my purse on the counter, and walked into the kitchen. Gregory assumed what had become his usual place on my couch. Isn't it funny how men gravitated toward the most comfortable seat in the house? It was like their asses were divining rods. It should have bugged me, but I liked the thought of him making himself at home in my house.

  The fact made me sick to my stomach. All too soon, I would dash his hopes and dreams to the ground. He'd hate me for the rest of his life. I wasn't sure how ready I was to deal with that. It would only get worse if I let myself get any more emotionally attached to him than I already had.

  "Care for something to drink?” I yelled, rummaging around in the cabinet for the bottle of Cabo Wabo I'd bought myself for Christmas. The situation called for tequila. Then again, what situation didn't?

  "I'm good, but it's getting late. Do you think you could go ahead and get me the charm? I have an early meeting in the morning with some investors about a new program I'm developing."

  Found the bottle. Ignored the desperation rolling off him. I popped the cap, and took a less than medically approved swig, before answering, “I wish it were that simple. If charms were that easy to hand out, do you think I would have tried a potion last night?"

  "I really didn't think about it.” He gave me the cutest look, all confused and out of his element. “I thought witches and potions kind of went hand in hand."

  Another shot of Cabo scalded my tonsils as my face oozed over the countertop. “Well, that's why I'm the witch and you aren't."

  "You're right. If it were that easy, I wouldn't have come to you in the first place."

  "Damn skippy, I'm right. I hand you a charm without getting the settings tuned precisely to your biorhythms, and it'll blow your willie into last week. Is that what you want?” Maybe I needed to cut back on the tequila. That last bit came off all crazed even for me.

  "So how do we get my biorhythms into the charm, or whatever?"

  "Sex!"

  "Sex?"

  "Of course, sex. I need to infuse the charm with the essence of love. Without your true love where we can get our hands on her, we'll have to improvise.” Like you didn't see that coming from a mile away. If you didn't, you really need to pay closer attention.

  "After last night I couldn't ask you to degrade yourself like that again."

  "Look, Gregory. I like you.” I swayed my way over to the couch, and plopped down beside him. “I'm going to be honest with you, if I may. I don't usually go around sleeping with my clients, but I'm making an exception in your case. That shows how much I want you to find your true love."

  "Nikki, I appreciate all the effort you're putting into this, but I can't help but feel I'm not worth it. You're a great person, and it isn't fair for me to take advantage of you like this.” If he only knew. “And besides, I think you're drunk."

  "I am not. Do I look drunk to you? Don't answer.” I put my fingers over his lips. “This is part of the ceremony for powering up the charm.” I got the words out just before a high octane belch bellowed from my lips. “Now that it's started, it can't be stopped. Do you want to rip a hole in the astral plane?"

  "That sounds bad.” He looked around like he expected one to pop up at any moment. Was it me, or did men seem to be overly gullible nowadays?

  "If you don't want the whole world being sucked into the afterworld, you better get over this pedestal you've got me on.” I think that was a bit much. Blame the booze.

  "How much time do we have?” He glanced nervously at his watch.

  "Thirty-seven minutes.” Don't ask me how I came up with that number. It just popped into my head.

  "Then we'd better get to it. Mom would kill me if I was responsible for the end of the world.” You had to love motherly guilt. It was part of the reason I ended up in this mess to begin with.

  "Good boy.” I used his knee to stagger to my feet. I swung from side to side, but managed to stay vertical. One more swig of Cabo, and I'm not sure I could say that with any amount of certainty. “Now, get your love bug moving."

  "I'm not sure what exactly a love bug is, but don't we need to get the stuff together for the charm, before we, you know...” He tilted his head towards the bedroom door.

  "Yeah, right.” Dammit! I'd forgotten all about needing an actual charm to work into this sex. What the hell did I have that would work? I left him and went back to the kitchen, hoping my junk drawer might have something to fit the bill. Morloque knew there were enough cereal box prizes in there to make children happy the world over. Surely I had a necklace that wasn't in the shape of a leprechaun.

  I stopped by the fridge, opening the door and grabbing the first thing my hand touched. I needed something to equalize the alcohol in my system. I slammed the door shut without even glancing at my choice. The voice in my head told me to hurry the hell up. Unless it bit first, I probably wouldn't notice a little mold at this point.

  I found the drawer just as full as I remembered it. A little artful decoration, mostly of my linoleum, and I found a trinket that just might work. At one time it might have been a Cap'n Crunch doubloon, now it looked more like a half eaten Oreo. However it looked, the thing was all I had, so it would have to work.

  Where the hell did this freaking celery come from?

  Oh yeah. Food. Fridge. Soaking up alcohol. Well, fuck it. A stalk of celery made me crave a Bloody Mary like nobody's business. Mmmm ... But, if I wanted to get nasty about it, there are things I could do with a stalk of celery that would make Rachael Ray blush. I'm not sure about Paula Deen. She doesn't look the type to blush easily.

  I juggled the Cabo and celery as I slipped the necklace over my head.
I wouldn't advise drunken juggling. Somehow or another, the celery slipped from my hand and landed in my cleavage. The bottle of tequila tried to follow suit, but while my boobs are impressive, I know for a fact there isn't room for both of them there, so I left the celery where it bloomed and clung to the Cabo for dear life. Good booze is never to be wasted, even if a piece of foliage is tickling your under-wire.

  While all this must be as entertaining as hell for him to watch, it wasn't getting either of us into the bedroom. If I wanted to keep up the pretense of the world ending in ... let me check my watch ... twenty-nine minutes, I'd better sober my drunken ass up, so I could get this show on the road.

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  Chapter 12

  Gregory was more pliable tonight as I ushered him into my boudoir. Either that or I was too tipsy to notice his resistance. I did note a hint of bemusement on his face. I wondered at that, until I got a nose full of Green Grocer. Damn celery! I was probably going to end up with green nipples from all the Miracle Grow they pumped into these things. The inhumanity was too much for me to bear. Good thing I wasn't human.

  "Hold this!” I reluctantly shoved the Cabo into his hand, pushing him toward the bed.

  I plucked the now limp veggie from my cleavage, threw it on my bedside table and stormed for my closet door. My buzz was wearing off. It put me in a particularly pissy mood. I'd backed myself into a corner with this charm crap. Sure it segued nicely into the sex I'd wanted, but it put me into a position where I had to actually perform a minor feat of magic to make it look believable.

  Nothing complex, mind you, but I did need my hat. Yes, witches did indeed wear the stereotypical hat you see in all the Halloween adverts. Only mine seems to be in a state of misplaced, and I didn't have the time to look for it. My thirty-seven minute timetable rapidly dwindled down to doomsday.

  The closest thing I had to any kind of hat was a pith helmet I'd worn during spring break, back in the day. Don't look at me like I'm crazy. It was quite fashionable in its day. I'm just not telling you which day it happened to be. In any case, it was the only thing I had, unless I wanted to wear a brown paper bag on my head. And, no, I didn't. A happy face and the words dropping prices was so not me.

  After a little shuffling of hangers, I picked a slinky, not sleazy, little number from the closet to match my mood. It was a whole lot more see-through, and a lot less fabric than the price tag would have led you to believe. Okay, it looked sleazy as hell with a whole lot of slutty thrown in. It stopped short of skank but not by much. I quickly shucked my clothes and shimmied into it, hoping Gregory was getting an eyeful. A pair of black stilettos begged me to slide into them, but I left them on the floor of the closet. He couldn't handle the way they made my butt pop when I walked. Reaching down, I grabbed the cereal prize necklace, which I was now sure acted as some kind of decoder for another prize I'd since thrown away, and slipped it around my neck. Slipping the helmet over my ebony curls, I completed my embarrassment.

  With it firmly atop my head, I turned around for the shock of my life. Shy and retiring Gregory Hamilton had gotten naked and appeared quite ready in my bed. What happened to ‘I don't want to use you’ and ‘you're too drunk for me to take advantage of you like this'? Men were all the same. Thank Morloque.

  "All comfy are we?” I smirked.

  "I thought you wanted me to...” The look on his face was priceless. He looked like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar—or nookie jar, considering where we were.

  "Never presume to know the mind of a woman, Mr. Hamilton.” I shot him a stern look without bursting out in giggles. “The gravity of this situation prevents me from chastising you properly."

  "I won't do it again. I swear.” He was so cute. He crossed his heart and everything.

  "I wish I could believe you.” Shaking my head, I came around to the foot of the bed. “See, if I let you get away with it this time, who's to say you won't make the same mistake again, only this time with your true love?"

  "But I won't.” He squirmed his way up against the headboard.

  I came up beside him, taking the celery from the bedside table. Thought I'd forgotten about that didn't you? “I wish I could say this is going to hurt me more than it's going to hurt you.” This time I did giggle.

  Before he could draw in a breath, I threw back the sheet covering him and brought the celery flying toward him. His hands flew toward his face. Silly man, like I had been aiming for his face.

  I held back at the last minute. Instead of lasting damage I went for the subtle whisper of the unknown. As momma always said, wicked is as wicked does. Nothing said wicked like wondering what came next. I let the limp green stalk dance over the quivering mass of his chest before venturing down the valley of his abs. A low gasp escaped his lips, as the cold leaves brushed the hard flesh of his inner thigh. His hands fell away from his face to grasp the sheet into tight balls in his fists, as I played the celery around the curve of his swollen sack. Oh my! My wicked seemed to be growing by leaps and bounds. I'm exhilarated to report it wasn't the only thing in that happy condition.

  All this foreplay distracted me from two very important things. One: I had a fake charm to produce. On a more important note, men aren't known for their staying power once excited for any length of time. So I'd better fake my way through the charm, and hope it's the only thing I'm forced to fake tonight.

  I moved my leg over him, easing the rest of my body over his tender man bits. A little wiggle to make him jump, and I snapped my legs shut, trapping his writhing thighs. His entire body went rigid with expectation of the deviousness I had in mind next.

  Not to disappoint, I reached down and lifted his chin until his eyes drank me in. I wanted his full attention. Taking the celery, I ran it in between the valley of my breasts, and along the curve of my—sucking it in—taut stomach. With my other hand, I grasped the base of his shaft, playing it across the sheer fabric of my not-so-there nightie. His body bucked, trying to get away, but I would have none of it. For the time being, he was mine to do with what I wanted, and I wanted to play ‘walk the veggie'.

  Gregory's chin dropped to his chest as my fingers caressed his shaft, while I swirled the celery around the tip of his swollen head. With each delicate pass, I could feel the fevered beat of his heart racing through his manhood. His breath became a labored hiss. White, blank orbs stared back at me as he threw his head back, his bottom lip tucked painfully between his teeth. As much fun as my veggie fetish was becoming, dare I continue and risk the end of the world and my chance at a good time?

  I turned my attention to other areas to give him a reprieve, not much of one, but enough to let him see forward again. I swirled the leaves around his nipples just to feel him twitch under me. I had to make sure there hadn't been any lasting brain damage, didn't I? His reflexes seemed to be in working order, so I leaned forward to give his left pesky bud a little more attention, and got more than I had bargained for.

  The delicious heat of his shaft slipped beneath the flimsy fabric of my nightie, nudging its way against the tender folds of my swollen sex. The shock of his touch sent me rocking back. The full weight of him slid easily into me. The sensation sent me rolling onto the hot granite of his chest. My breasts crushed against him. My nipples hardened instantly of their own volition. I don't know which felt better, the feel of him beneath me, or the exquisite piece of him exploring the inside of me.

  I tried to forget the plastic disk digging a chunk out of my boobies in the middle of all this sexual excitement. The frigging charm could damn well wait. I don't know if it was me or the Cabo, but Gregory appeared to have learned a thing or two since last night.

  The corded muscles of his thighs drove a steady rhythm against the soft flesh of my butt, the fine hairs covering them sending a thrill of goose bumps running up my spine. Never in my life have I found myself so close to losing myself so soon. His inexperience aside, the very touch of his skin against mine was sending me over the edge at an alarming rate, nev
er mind the things his cock was doing to the inside of me.

  I lost myself in the heady scent of him rolling over me as my tongue twirled rings around the base of his neck. My hair swam from underneath the pith helmet that rocked back and forth precariously atop my head. Before you ask—hell if I know how it was still in place with all the sex actions taking place.

  Gregory nipped at my ear, driving the question completely from my head. I let out a groan as his teeth grazed its ridge before letting go to work his way down my neck. Do any of you remember me teaching him this last night? Me neither! Do you think he spent his day Googling? Frankly, I didn't care. As long as he was doing this, and kept up his fine work at the other end, I wasn't going to complain about how he spent his day. I just hoped he didn't develop carpal tunnel before we got through.

  "Nikki.” The harsh rasp of his voice in my ear sent shivers through my brain.

  "Yes, Gregory,” my own breathless voice answered.

  "I know this may seem an inopportune time to mention this, but shouldn't you start working on the charm before I, you know, come or something?"

  Ever notice how practical men could be when you're trying to have a good time? I'm just glad I snuck one in while no one was looking, otherwise I'd have to find that damn celery again.

  Remember, I told you I would have to work a little magic to pull this off. Well, here it comes.

  Sex, in itself, is an act of magic. The whole creation-of-life thing. When a witch got involved, it became magnified to the number ten. I eased the necklace off my neck and placed it over his heart. The entire time I never once let him miss a beat. His momentary distraction aside, he didn't seem to be in the mood, in any case. I reached back and cupped his balls with my free hand, while the other stayed poised over the erstwhile charm. The touch of my hand on him increased the rhythm of his urgency, and, exponentially, the magic I needed to get the spell going. I didn't like the fact this sex was turning into work one little bit.