by Ashlyn Chase
Michele’s mind wandered back to her first impassioned kiss. She had experienced a lusty adolescence. Back then, kisses turned from sweet to steamy in no time. She felt the same uncontrollable passion with Vic now. His arms tightened around her, flattening her firm breasts against his chest.
Before she knew it, she had thrown her head back and he was kissing her neck, sending shivers of pleasure through her. Little moans escaped from her throat. She pulled herself to his mouth and kissed him with an inner driving force that surprised even her. She wanted him to take her right there. Getting arrested wasn’t her idea of fun, though.
At last their lips parted. She noticed Vic’s eyes darken as he leveled his gaze at her.
“Convinced yet?”
“Uh huh. I think we need to make wild bunny love as soon as we can get off this beach.”
“I’ve never met anyone who surprises me as much as you do.”
“Is honesty so surprising?”
He chuckled. “I guess I’m not used to it.”
“You don’t say what you mean?”
“Not so much.”
She smiled. “Try it. It’s fun.”
“Okay.” He took a deep breath. “I think we need to make mad, passionate love many, many times, and I think we should start immediately.”
Michele didn’t know whether to laugh or launch herself at him. She glanced at his crotch. “Immediately? Has all of the blood left your brain?”
“You see?” he said. “That’s why people don’t say what they’re thinking.”
She grinned. “I didn’t say I don’t feel the same way.”
Vic’s posture straightened. “Do you?”
“Are you kidding? The way you kiss me? I’m gonna dive into your bed.”
Vic got to his feet and held out his hand. “What are we waiting for?”
She took it and pulled him back down. “Not right this minute, you caveman. I need to go back to the apartment and get my stuff.”
He flopped backward onto the sand and groaned. Then she giggled and said, “Okay, you’ve suffered enough. So have I. Let’s go put ourselves out of our misery.”
* * * * *
Vic brought Michele back to her apartment to repack her things. She had all of her belongings in two suitcases and a duffle bag, and now she had to narrow it down to just what she needed for a week. Vic leaned against the bedroom wall and watched. He tried to think of something to talk about that would take his mind off of driving his cock inside of her.
“So, why did you become a witch?”
“It’s not so much something I became. It’s more like something I already was. When I discovered it and admitted it, I felt liberated—like I had found myself and a deep contentment told me I was right.”
Vic nodded. “I understand. The way you describe it, it almost sounds like someone who discovers he’s gay and comes out of the closet.”
Michele stopped packing for a moment to look up at him and smirk. “Yeah. It’s almost exactly the same thing.” She stepped over the duffle bag, leaned toward him and pulled his face to hers for a luscious kiss.
“Are you teasing me?”
“Just tasting you.”
Vic wished she’d hurry up. He loved that she moved so gracefully, but it was slowing things down to a crawl and if she kissed him like that again . . . He cleared his throat. “So, do you think Alex is attracted to Savern? I thought I noticed something.”
Michele glanced toward the other bedroom where Savern was packing her own suitcase and lowered her voice. “I’ve seen it for a while. He shows up at the shop a little too frequently. He ignores me and flirts with her. At least, he thinks he’s flirting.” She chuckled. “He’s shy with women. If I didn’t know that, I wouldn’t realize what he was trying to do.”
“How did he get together with your mother?”
“I think she made the first move. He let her know he liked her, though.” Michele shook out a cashmere sweater, folded it and carefully put it away in her drawer.
“Aggressive women must run in your family. So, do you think Savern will be the aggressor with Alex?”
She resumed her task and seemed to be mulling it over. She paused, holding a fistful of black, lace panties. “She could, if she wanted to. I don’t think she’s even thought about it.”
“Why not? Because he’s your stepdad? The age difference? Being pregnant with someone else’s kid?”
“That and other things. There’s a racial difference . . .”
“Oh? I hadn’t noticed.”
Michele rolled her eyes and displayed that adorable smirk. God, he loved that smirk.
“Well, I doubt if it matters to Alex, but I don’t know how she feels about that,” Michele said. “She might want a typical happy family, and it would be obvious that the baby isn’t his.”
Vic plucked some lint off the suede jacket lying on her bed and wondered if Savern was really that traditional. It didn’t seem likely with the decisions she had already made and the path she had chosen.
“What would you do in her place?” Vic asked.
Michele laughed out loud. “Vic, I can’t put myself in her place. I’m not pregnant and I’m never going to date my stepfather.”
He smiled and shrugged. “I just thought it might be an interesting question.”
“Well don’t ask those types of interesting questions. That visual gives me the willies.” Michele shook her head as she fastened her suitcase. Was she finally finished? Whew, at last.
Sauntering over, her head lowered, she fixed her gaze on him. “Are you interested in a quickie on this bed?”
Vic chuckled and lied through his teeth. “I don’t want a quickie. I want it long, slow, and torturously tender.”
“Torturously? Is that a word?”
“It is now.”
“Well, I can’t wait to find out what it means.” She teased him, not only with her words, but also with her body as she pressed up against his chest and ground her pelvis into his hard cock.
He hoped he could control his galvanic lust long enough to make their next sexual experience as memorable as the last. Either that, or he’d simply throw her down and fuck her senseless.
Chapter 7
Vic opened the door and checked the street. Even in the bright sun there was nothing to see. Before he’d allow Michele or Savern to set foot outside their building he checked the perimeter and returned with the “all clear.”
“Savern, you’re up first. If you see Donovan as you drive away, beep.”
Savern nodded, hugged Michele and winked. She gathered up Bast in one hand, her suitcase in the other. “Blessed be. See you tomorrow, hon.” Just before she left the building she looked over her shoulder and added in a singsong voice, “Have a good night.”
Before Michele could answer, Savern hurried to her Honda Civic. Vic grabbed Michele around the waist and held her fast against him. She tried to shake him off, playfully.
“Let go of me, you goon.”
Vic moved his hand and squeezed her bottom. “I can’t help it. The anticipation is killing me.”
Without saying another word he let go and walked toward the only other car parked directly across from the lobby’s entrance. His convertible Volvo C70—top up and locked.
Knowing that her suitcases were already in his trunk, she hurried after him. When she’d hopped into the passenger side and shut the door, he said, “Now fasten your seatbelt and scrunch down.”
“Oh, that sounds comfortable.”
He grinned at her.
She made a noise that she hoped would sound like a grumble, slumped down and crossed her arms over her chest. “You know, it might have been nice if my first ride in your gorgeous car didn’t make me feel like a fugitive.”
“Sorry.” Vic revved the engine and headed toward the side street.
“You are not,” she muttered. “Your caution is sweet but ridiculous.”
He nodded and turned south on Route 1.
“I mean it, Vic
.”
“I know you do. That protection thingy you’re making me wear is supposed to keep us both safe, right?”
“Right.”
“Well, how do you know that my caution isn’t part of your spiritual protection?”
Michele snorted. “Oh, so now you’re the Goddess’s gift?”
Vic laughed out loud.
“Be careful. The other drivers might think you’re crazy if you drive around laughing to yourself.”
“Who cares what they think?”
“Are you always this cocky?”
“You’ll find out how cocky I am. You’re going to be living with me.”
She rolled her eyes, but glanced at the sizable bulge in his crotch, less than an arm’s length away. “Wow. I guess you are. Will you be able to stand up with that thing in the way?”
Vic’s eyebrows shot up and he glanced down at her.
She nodded toward his erection.
He laughed louder than before. “That’s not what I meant, but it’s good to know where your mind is.”
“In the gutter?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll bet that’s right where you like it.”
He grinned down at her. “Oh, yeah.”
* * * * *
Donovan, still lying in bed despite the sun streaming in the windows, squinted as he opened his eyes. He yawned, stretched, and silently congratulated himself. He was still reveling in the brilliant mind game he’d played. Last night had gone splendidly. The spell had lasted right up until he no longer needed it, and with a wave of his hand, his reflection in the river had reappeared. He was able to clean up the evidence before anyone spotted him, and had hauled his duffle bag, filled with his tools of the trade, to his parked van. The satisfying night had earned him a late morning’s rest.
Turning his head toward the bulging bag of cauldron, skulls, black candle wax, and burnt herbal residue in the corner of his motel room, he tried to come up with ideas for a good place to dispose of the contents. The cauldron he’d empty and keep. Everything else had to be buried—preferably someplace large enough and private enough to conceal several more pieces of evidence if needed.
He sat up and smiled to himself. It shouldn’t take too many more of these mind games before she figures out that I’ve found her, and then I can appeal to her sense of awe. She was always impressed with my magical abilities before she got scared of our potential. This time, I’m going to knock her socks off.
Of course, she probably still had that damn boomerang spell in place. He shook his head and smirked. No big deal now that he’d learned how to manipulate around it.
He yawned, pulled on his ragged jeans, and wandered to the bathroom. Splashing water on his face was enough for today. He didn’t plan to entertain anyone—yet. Michele would soon realize that he was willing to go to any lengths to impress her and that resisting him would be a waste of time and effort.
He looked in the mirror and smiled. “Yes. As soon as I bury the bag, I’ll need to work on gathering the next batch of skulls and herbs . . .”
He raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean, I need a hand this time?”
He shook his head and scratched his skeletal chest. “Sorry. There were no body parts at the shop. You know she’d never carry anything like that. I’ll find some, though. What else will I need?”
Donovan nodded. “Ah, yes. Many thanks, my friend. I can get those at the cemetery and bury the evidence at the same time. Do you know of any fresh graves?”
The shadow under the snake’s belly darkened as it became three-dimensional and slithered up Donovan’s neck to his ear. He listened to the instructions, laughed and rubbed his hands together as the snake slithered back into place and became two-dimensional again.
* * * * *
Vic glanced over and watched as Michele’s eyes bulged when they drove up to his house. Daytona Beach proper was filled with small one-story homes on postage stamp lots with short scrubby landscaping.
He always thought his home belonged somewhere in a magazine. It was enormous by Florida’s standards. Two stories. A beautiful Spanish Colonial. The landscaping reflected professional care with well-placed trees, a square hedge of red Hibiscus in full bloom, and a manicured lawn.
He was proud of his home on the river. He’d worked damn hard for it. He watched her jaw drop and waited to hear what she had to say.
Michele was oddly quiet. As she stepped out of the car, her eyes were wide. She looked like Cinderella seeing the Prince’s castle for the first time.
Vic handed her his set of keys and said, “I’ll get your suitcase.”
She never took her eyes off the house as she grabbed the keys and wandered, as if in a dream, toward the front door. Vic was behind the car’s open trunk when his home alarm system shattered the neighborhood’s afternoon calm.
Michele screamed.
He felt foolish, knowing that not only had he failed to warn her about it, but also that her scream had almost drowned out the outrageously loud alarm. She stood on the doorstep, clenching her teeth, hands over her ears, until Vic ran inside and shut it off.
“Sorry. I should have told you to wait for me. You need to hit a code on a keypad after you open the door.” He tapped a small panel on the stucco wall.
Michele’s hand rested on her chest as she walked in. She was still shaking and swallowed hard.
“Are you all right, Michele?”
“Yeah, except for the ringing in my ears. I just never expected . . .”
Vic wrapped her up in a hug. “You’re trembling.”
“I’m okay, but I feel like an idiot.”
“No, don’t worry about it. It’s good to test the system now and then.”
“Guess what? It works.”
Vic gave her a sweet peck on her perfect nose. When she stopped quivering he pulled back enough to catch her lips more fully.
* * * * *
His languid kiss comforted her, and she welcomed the sensations he created every time he touched her. When they allowed their lips to part, she smiled and touched his jaw.
“So, would you like the cook’s tour?” Vic asked.
“Oh, yes. I’d love to see the kitchen.”
Vic’s eyes opened wider and he looked like he had to swallow a chuckle. “Right this way, my dear.”
Michele’s feet remained planted where they were. “What was that about?”
“What do you mean?”
“You were about to laugh at me.”
“Oh. How’d you know?”
“I know a lot. I don’t know how I know, but I can tell what people are feeling and, just now, you were laughing inside. I’d bet ten dollars on it.”
Vic grinned, put his hand in his back pocket and grabbed his wallet. He handed her a ten-dollar bill and guided her down the long hall to the kitchen. “By the way, I don’t expect you to cook.”
“Oh. That’s not why I wanted to see the kitchen. I need a place to brew some potions. Do you have a deep iron pot?”
Vic raised his eyebrows. “A deep iron pot? I don’t know. You can ask my housekeeper Carmen when she arrives tomorrow, but please don’t tell her why you need it, and don’t do any magic stuff in front of her. She’s a nice woman, but she gossips. I hear about what some of her other clients are doing, so I can only guess what she’s telling them about me.”
“You’re not worried what she’ll say when she meets me and knows I’m sleeping here?”
“Nope. She’ll say, ‘That Vic’s a lucky guy.’ Actually she calls me, Meester Veek.”
Michele’s grin returned. “Okay. Do you have a room that I can lock? I need to set up an altar.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Afraid not. I could use this kitchen island, I suppose, but you wouldn’t want someone to walk in and . . .”
“God, no. I’ll take you upstairs and you can choose a bedroom. There are three vacant. I wanted to get you up to the bedroom anyway . . .” He patted her bottom.
; She ignored his chauvinistic gesture, mostly because as much as she hated to admit it, it felt nice. “Thanks, but I should unpack first.”
Vic came up behind her and nuzzled her neck. “You can put your stuff in any room you like,” he whispered, “but I want your naked body in mine.”
Michele felt his warm breath and tingled with delight. “That sounds good.”
His hands came around her from behind. He slid them down her inner thighs. Her breath caught and her apex dampened.
“Mmm . . . I can psychically tell what you’re feeling now.”
“Oh, yeah? What?”
“Incredibly horny.”
“Wow. You’re amazing.” He nipped her ear. “How about a quick tour, some fast unpacking, and a long afternoon in bed?”
“Let’s go.”
Vic grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him, breaking into a jog. “Here’s the dining room,” he shouted. “And here’s the living room.”
She laughed aloud. “There sure are lots of pictures of you in your football uniform. Any from the back?” She said as she caught up.
“You like my butt, do you?”
“In those tight white pants? Who wouldn’t?”
“Keep up and you can see the real thing.”
* * * * *
He turned and noticed her breasts bouncing as she trotted beside him and grinned. “I’m a breast man, myself.”
Vic threw open the double doors to the patio and resumed their rapid tour. “Here’s the river, there’s the hot tub . . .” He escalated to a sprint across the deck that ran the expanse of the house. Now at the opposite end, he unlocked and opened the sliders to the tiled dining area. “Kitchenette, and . . .” He made an abrupt right turn into a smaller room. “Laundry room.”
He stopped, pulled her into a passionate kiss and walked her backward until she leaned on the dryer.