Summer Solstice Scorchers

by Whiskey Creek Press Authors

  Catching her by the shoulders, he steadied her as he looked down into the lovely hazel eyes. As he smiled, he felt the age-old shudder in his chest, the thickening of his penis that he'd grown so accustomed to that he barely noticed anymore. Without conscious thought, he shifted, spreading his stance to accommodate the tightening in his trousers.

  "Ahh, once again you've nearly run me down. My sweet Mariah, must we do this every single morning for all of eternity?” James’ fingers danced along her delicate collarbone, brushed back a lock of blond hair that had fallen forward when they'd collided.

  A small giggle escaped from between her pink lips. “What else would we do if we didn't do this, James? We're so well suited for the lives we lead, don't you think? After all, we're finally very good at it—so much practice and all."

  Mariah leaned closer to James when she spoke, so close that the scent of lavender filled his head completely as the glimpse of her tight nipples at the edge of the bodice of her green dress made his staff fully hard. It filled his trousers, pressed against the fabric that held it captive against his strong body.

  His gaze lingered on her breasts for a long moment before he slid the green fabric off one shoulder. A breast, firm and full and just begging to be kissed tumbled from her dress and into the open and James reached for it so quickly that neither of them had time to speak.

  Palming her breast, he brought his hips against hers and pressed himself to her. His erection throbbed hotly between them as he spoke.

  "Yes, we've had practice. Endless years of it, Mariah. Isn't it enough? Let's put an end to this madness. I want you, darling. I want you with a love—with a desire—that's been growing for far too long.” James stroked her skin, pleased when her nipple pebbled in his hand. He flicked his thumb across the hard peak, pulling her closer when she trembled at the touch. “You want me too, darling. I know that below your skirts, your folds are moist. Your clitoris yearns for the feel of my tongue, the touch of my hardness. You know it and I know it, too. Why are we denying ourselves the satisfaction we crave, Mariah? Why?"

  Her eyes were panic-stricken when they met his, her cheeks flushed and her lips full. James almost kissed her. In that moment he nearly broke the vow he'd made to her long ago to respect her rules. He almost did—but he didn't.

  That's not the vow to break, is it? No, I've got to finally make a stand. I've got to release us from this never-ending charade, once and for all. I've got to walk away from you. Or I've got to make you come to me. One or the other.

  James said the words he never thought he'd say. “It's time to make a choice, Mariah. I can't—I won't—wait for you any longer. Mortal men, and the ridiculous hope that you'll become mortal again. Or me, and the knowledge that you're loved. You've got to choose,” he said softly. Once he released his grip on her, he took a full step back. He made no attempt to hide his desire for her and when her gaze fell to his trousers, he felt his penis jump under her scrutiny. It pleased him to see the flush in her cheeks deepen.

  Mariah looked into his eyes, pleading silently for several heartbeats. She, too, made no effort at concealment. Her dress hung askew, her breast exposed to his sight as she considered his words. His ultimatum.

  "But, James, why can't we live this way forever? Or at least until one of us finds love?"

  "I've found love, Mariah. I won't wait forever for it to find me,” James said. He began to turn away from her as he spoke. “I'll wait one more night, that's all. You know how to find me tonight. Come to me—or don't, it's your choice. But I promise you that I'll leave here tomorrow if you choose not to come to me."

  "But, James, you can't mean—"

  He was already striding down the corridor when she spoke. He paused, speaking without turning. “Oh, but I do, darling. That's exactly what I mean."

  Chapter 4

  The man in Room 214 was tall, dark and handsome. He'd arrived at the inn that morning with snorkeling gear, a laptop computer and a stack of file folders. After a day at the beach, he'd returned to the room and had been there ever since.

  Mariah hadn't left his side. She'd watched him shower, enthralled when he'd pleasured himself beneath the warm water. Then he'd ordered dinner from room service and had been working steadily on his computer once the last bit of dessert had been eaten. It was with mixed emotions that she watched him transfer data from the file folders to the computer. When he finished his work, he'd head for the wide bed in the far corner of the room. And Mariah knew it was then that she'd have to make a choice.

  There hadn't been one minute of the day she hadn't spent considering James’ words. Not one solitary instant she hadn't been tortured by the enormity of the situation.

  What to do?

  It should have been an easy decision, but it wasn't. Mariah had been fighting truly accepting the finality of her ghostly existence for so long that she barely remembered how she'd passed on. To accept it at this point? Can I do that? She didn't think she could.

  But can I lose James? He'd been the only constant in her life—such as it was—for so long that she couldn't bear the thought of losing him.

  But to sacrifice the dream of becoming real again for a love that would chain her to a fate that would last for eternity?

  What to do? Mariah's heart fluttered as she watched the man before her close down his computer. He went into the bathroom and did all the things mortals did before retiring for the night. Then he came out, dropped the white inn robe on the end of the bed and climbed beneath the sheet. She watched as he reached for the lamp and turned it off.

  In the darkened room, she listened to his breathing. Mariah knew she wasn't alone in her desire. Every ghostly being knew of the legends that told of beings like themselves being transported to the mortal realm by the love found in a human encounter. That had been her objective for so long that she wondered if she'd be able to exist at all without that hope. She didn't think so.

  The darkness of the night held her close as she weighed her options.

  This man. Or that man.

  Chapter 5

  Her touch on his body was light at first, hesitant and shy, soft and gentle.

  He felt her and shifted on the bed, turning toward the fluttering fingertips that danced across his firm skin. The body pressed against his side was soft and smooth and his own hardened at the knowledge of her nearness.

  Mariah placed her arm around his shoulders and rested her head in the crook of his neck. For a long moment, his body remained rigid, and she wondered if he'd hold her or not. Perhaps this encounter would turn out to be like all the rest—an effort in futility and ending in disappointment. Perhaps, despite her endless contemplation, she'd chosen poorly.

  Wrong bed. Wrong love. Wrong man.

  With a groan, he pulled her against his body so tightly that he would have crushed her had she not squeaked.

  "Oh!"

  "Honestly, woman, you are too much—making me wait all these years to feel you in my bed! Another man would have lost his mind by now, you realize that, don't you?” James’ voice was hoarse, the evidence of his relief finding purchase in him at last. “I thought, as the hours went on, that you'd gone to his bed instead of mine. I thought—"

  Mariah covered his mouth with hers. Their first kiss filled them with warmth and light and a power that felt as if a million fireflies illuminated them from within. Their lips joined them in a way that neither thought possible, bridging the chasm between their hearts that had been gaping widely for so many lifetimes.

  There was no time to be wasted. Enough had been squandered already.

  Dropping his fingers to the spot he'd dreamed of, James touched the warm nook that was, as he'd dreamed, slippery with desire. His fingertips slid across her folds, caressing the secret spots no longer secret. As his thumb fondled her engorged nub, he slipped one finger into her pussy.

  "Oh, yes ... James, that's it. Please, don't stop. I've waited so long to feel your touch,” Mariah moaned as she felt her body react instantly. Her hips bucke
d as the first waves of pleasure washed over her. With a long, soft sound, she came, her muscles gripping his finger so tightly that he could not have withdrawn it had he wanted to—which he didn't.

  Watching Mariah's release was so intoxicatingly erotic that James nearly lost control—nearly. As her spasms subsided, he took several deep breaths and willed his cock to behave.

  Hell, I don't want to behave like a schoolboy now. Not after I've finally got her into my bed. No, my aching balls will have to wait just a while longer.

  As her body relaxed, Mariah reached for him. Touching James’ penis for the first time, she wrapped her fingers around it and just held him for several heartbeats. She marveled at the solid feel of his flesh, the thickness and steel-like hardness of his cock. It was something that took her breath away and she gasped.

  "Oh, James—why don't mortal men feel this way?"

  "Meaning?"

  "They don't feel real, not like this. They don't feel solid, like you do. They feel more like ... an illusion. A dream. Not reality,” Mariah said. Her fingers tightened around his cock and she began to stroke him, tugging him gently as she spoke. “Why, James? Why don't they feel real?"

  Waiting, enjoying the feel of her fingers on the tip of his penis, he considered Mariah's questions. He'd noticed the same sort of dullness about the mortal women he'd bedded.

  Over the years there had been a few—but infrequently and never with any great passion. More out of frustration, he'd had fleeting sexual encounters with mortal women, but they'd always left him feeling empty. Much more frustrated. And sad. There was a sadness about making love to a mortal woman.

  "Because they're not real to us,” he said. Stroking her breast thoughtfully, he continued. “To them, we don't feel solid—they can't feel the hot, hard tips of your beautiful breasts, the soft, sweet scent of your breath doesn't wash over their cheeks and our bodies feel less than real to them. They're the same way for us. But to each other, they feel alive. That's the way it is for us, too. With each other, we're real. We're alive, too—in our own way. In our own space and time."

  "Mmm ... I want to taste you, James. In our space and time,” she said, then giggled. When she pushed the sheet aside and bent to place her mouth on his member, James uttered an oath and pulled her face up to his. He kissed her soundly as he rolled onto his back and pulled her body onto his.

  "Not now, my love,” he said, chuckling. “I've waited far too long to make love to you and I think that if you put your tongue—well, that can wait. We'll do our tasting later. But now, darling, I want to feel myself buried inside your—"

  "Here?"

  Mariah separated her lips with the tip of his cock, angled him so he fit her like a finger fits a glove and slid down onto his hard staff. He filled her completely, filled her as no other man—ghost or human—had ever filled her. Moving with the grace he so richly admired, she rode him with slow precision until she felt his testicles tighten. Then she clenched her pussy around his cock and moved on him as swiftly as she could, pushing them both over the edge of reason and into the delightful madness filled with bright flashes, hot surges and sweet surrender.

  James felt his penis erupt and he felt, in that instant, more fulfillment than all the other eruptions of his lifetime combined. To finally lose himself within her was the realization of every dream he'd had—the fulfillment of the only vow he'd ever made that mattered. He lost himself to the sensation that held him, lost himself to it and to her and to the world they'd created in the instant they'd joined.

  Eternity. They'd joined for eternity.

  As the last drop of his climax left him, James wondered if eternity would be long enough to be tied to his wonderful woman. He hoped it would be. Because really, he couldn't ask for anything more, could he?

  CONJURING CADE

  by

  C'ann Inman

  Bliss picked up the magazine on the kitchen table and frowned. Her younger sister was reading that trash again. All the bullshit advice on how to find a man or how to orgasm or where to touch herself/her man/or anyone else.

  Yeah, right. She snorted and started toward the trash when Harmony came rushing through the door.

  "Drop it!"

  Bliss narrowed her blue eyes. “Drop what?"

  "My magazine.” Harmony scowled. “You know I like reading those.” She marched over and snatched the magazine from her sister's hand. She uncrumpled it with a low growl. “Just because you don't like reading it doesn't mean it doesn't serve a purpose."

  "Yeah.” Bliss walked over and picked up her cup of coffee. “Its purpose is to rope you into spending money on shit you don't need and buying into that whole shallow world."

  Harmony rolled her dark green eyes. “And here I thought they were just trying to make some money. I didn't realize they had such a sinister purpose."

  Bliss held out her hand, and the magazine flew over to her and landed neatly in her upturned palm. “Hmm. Let's see.” The pages rippled for a second before they stilled. Bliss nodded. “How to Make Magic with Mortals.” She rolled her eyes. “What kind of bullshit is this?” She flipped another couple of pages. “What To Do When His Wand Won't Work.” Bliss snickered. “And they're not talking about the one he holds in his hands.” She chuckled. “Or maybe they are.” She started to move a couple more pages when Harmony stood with fists clenched.

  "Just because you're a total failure in the male department doesn't mean the rest of us should have to suffer.” Harmony held out her hand, and Bliss let her will the magazine back to her. She held up her head. “I'll look for an article about witches who turn their men gay. Okay?"

  "Hey!” Bliss growled. “There were only two of them. And I had nothing to do with that!” She shrugged. “Besides. Steve and John are going to help redecorate my bedroom. Could be worse."

  Harmony stared at her. “Are you hearing yourself?"

  "Yes.” Bliss studied her younger sister for a moment. “How did you know I was about to trash that, anyway?"

  Harmony's cheeks flamed, and she looked everywhere but at her older sister. “I put a little spell on it,” she muttered.

  "You're hexing your reading material now?” Bliss narrowed her eyes. “You were careful, weren't you? We both know you're not quite ready for your witch's license yet."

  "Of course I was careful! I cast the spell because we both know you don't like what I read! You think I should have my nose buried in a textbook like you did.” Harmony sighed. “But that's not me."

  "I've seen your grades, sister. I know that isn't you. That's why when you head off to camp tomorrow, this little piece of joy will stay here with me.” The magazine floated in the air over to Bliss, and she closed her hand around it.

  "You're so unfair!” Harmony stomped her foot and glared at her older sister. Her green eyes shot sparks. “Do you even remember what it was like to be nineteen?"

  "It was only a decade ago, Harmony. Not a millennia. Of course I remember.” Bliss looked at the clock. “Time for you to go to school.” She made shooing motions. “Off you go."

  Harmony scowled. “I really don't like you."

  "I know."

  She slid her shoes on and grabbed her backpack. “Really, really don't like you."

  "I'm aware of it."

  Harmony's mouth flattened into a tight line. “Tyrant."

  "Have a good day at school.” Bliss opened the door, and Harmony stomped out loudly and down the street. Bliss closed the door with a sigh. Was I that strong-willed when I was nineteen? She'd have to ask her parents next time they were in town. But somehow, she doubted it.

  Bliss brought her hand up and studied the offending piece of material in it. What did Harmony find so interesting in here? She walked back into the kitchen and sat down at the butcher-block table. She turned to the Table of Contents and studied the articles. Fashions for the forward-thinking witch? How to brew up an evening he wouldn't forget?

  Bliss took a sip of coffee and then promptly covered her mouth before she spit the
liquid back out. Conjuring the Perfect Man. She blinked twice and studied the title again. Surely, they weren't suggesting actually conjuring one, were they? And what did her nineteen year old sister need with a man? Bliss scowled. Not a damn thing.

  She found the page number and thumbed through until she arrived at the page she wanted. There was a quiz.

  Damn it.

  Bliss liked quizzes. A lot. Part of her personality her sister constantly gave her hell for. Because it was kind of like a test. And she liked tests. Always had.

  She bit her lip and looked around quickly. She could always wipe the page clean when she was done. And no one need ever know she actually, heaven forbid, read one of these worthless pieces of paper.

  There were twenty questions. Bliss zipped through the first five easily. What was her favorite color? Red. What color eyes did she like on her man? Dark, almost black. Hair length for a lover? Cropped short. Very basic physical aspects.

  But then the quiz took a turn that had her jaw dropping. Because they wanted to know exactly what she wanted in the bedroom. She bit her lip. There wasn't simply a hot, monkey sex letter. Nope.

  How many orgasms did she want to have?

  Bliss grinned. One? Three? Five? Seven?

  She tapped her pencil on the table and cocked her head to the side. One was rather stingy. Five and seven seemed a little much. She settled on three and rolled her eyes. Yeah, right. That would be the day.

  How did she feel about bondage?

  None? Light? Medium? Or have the antibiotics on hand?

  Light, perhaps. Bliss nibbled on the eraser of the pencil. She'd always wanted to be tied up. Not that it had ever come up in any conversation she'd ever had. Not even with the two lovers of her past. They seemed content to finish their business at a rapid rate of speed. Never mind all the extras.

  Did she like to play with food?

  Never? Always? Maybe a nibble? What the hell, just make me a buffet?