by London Casey
A cold, wet sensation on his arm startled him into a sitting position. He stared into the big green eyes of the nearly all black cat that had followed him home last night. The same one he’d seen at her home. “You again. Did Sarah send you over?”
He got up. No way could he continue with his morning fantasy while her cat watched him. He wandered into the kitchen and remembered that he didn’t have his coffee machine yet, or his favorite mug. Damn. Without them, and without any caramels, since he’d had to hand them over to the trick-or-treaters, he’d not be writing today. Too bad really, because last night had given him some serious inspiration.
Last night could have been a scene from an erotic novel. So hot, so impossible. So perfect for his next book. Sarah could actually be a character in his next work with her amazing green eyes. And her mother…her mother looked like a witch, or a CEO. He shook his head.
He walked outside and squinted at the bright autumn sunlight. Considering the way the alcohol he’d shared with Sarah had burned down his gullet, he was surprised he didn’t feel hung over. In fact he felt the opposite—damn good. Like something really right was about to happen. He looked over the damage to the back of the house.
A corner of the roof covering the deck had come down. He walked down the steps and over to the side of the house to inspect the beams. A sparkle of something shiny caught his eye as he bent lower, and he reached carefully into the broken and scorched deck boards to see what it was. Carefully he pulled out the tall, narrow glass bottle from the night before. He brushed off the soot covering its label and stared at the odd symbols drawn above the barely legible words, Rose Wine.
He’d never seen anything quite like the marks. Curiosity, something he never seemed to grow out of, stirred inside and he walked back into the house. In minutes he dug out his laptop and fired it up. Describing the symbols without a scanner was difficult, but not impossible. A short search on his favorite search engine and he sat back against the wall of what would soon be his office with a thud.
Occult symbols. Old ones, with various meanings, some poetic, some more than a little erotic. He picked up the bottle again and pondered the meaning of his discovery. As he held the bottle up he noted the cork remained firmly in place. And inside, nearly half the bottle contained liquid. He frowned. That had to be impossible, he clearly remembered drinking the last of the stuff with Sarah.
He uncorked the bottle and took a sniff. The potent, powerfully rose scented aroma hit him hard. Immediately a vision of how he’d reacted to the taste of the wine flooded his mind. He could remember taking Sarah hard, could remember making plans to tie her to her bed, and ravage her in ways he’d never taken anyone before. He stuffed the cork back into the bottle.
Barrett licked his lips. This stuff wasn’t normal. It was magic, a potion. That could only mean one thing.
Sarah was a real witch.
Chapter Six
Sarah took the broom she’d made when she’d bought the house and carefully swept the lintel, pushing all the negativity she’d felt since her mother had arrived last night out the door. Thank the goddess she’d gone back to her own home after ragging on Sarah for an hour about the many sad ways a human-witch relationship could go wrong, and the danger she’d unleashed with her wild magic.
Okay, she’d played with magic that was clearly beyond her control. Her mother and the entire coven were angry with her. But you had to think about these things in a positive manner. She’d used magic, and while it hadn’t gone as planned, and it had gotten out of control, it had worked.
She’d cast a sex spell. And she felt good. So good a warm fire still burned low in her belly.
Sweeping done she leaned against the broom. Now if only this wouldn’t just happen on Halloween. She’d like to have magic, and she could admit it to herself, sex, on a regular basis, all year long. But she’d blown the power, used up the potion, and probably ruined things with her new neighbor. After all, she’d basically burned down his new house. He might even figure out what she was, and shun her completely.
She sighed. There were the negative thoughts again. She’d have to start sweeping all over again.
“Oh my god, you have a broom, too?” Barrett’s deep voice startled her back to the present. She glanced out the doorway and watched him walk through the open gate.
“Of course I do. I imagine you have one too, with the rest of your things.” He knew what she was, she could see it in his face.
“Yeah, but I can’t go flying off on mine.”
“Well, that makes two of us.” She moved to shut the door but he was already there, too close for comfort and holding it open. She held the broom between them.
“You’re a witch.”
“I believe I told you that, last night.” She turned on her heel and headed for the kitchen. His reaction told her all she had to know about how her sex life would be over the next year. Right back to non-existent. He followed her inside, shutting the door behind him.
“Well forgive me if I’m finding it a little hard to remember what was real last night, after you got me drunk on this.”
She turned back to him and spotted the bottle of Rose Wine. It was probably empty, but she wanted it back. For a reminder of the good and bad. “Hand that over.”
“What, so you can give it to some other, unsuspecting man?” He held it above his head. It was all she could do to hold herself back from jumping up and down like a child.
“Look. I’m sorry if you feel like I took advantage of you last night. But I didn’t mean to call you to the circle. I thought…I thought you were someone else. But that stuff was dangerous and I have to dispose of the bottle properly.”
He jiggled the bottle and to her surprise she could hear the distinct sound of sloshing liquid. “Surprised?” he taunted. “I was, too. So I looked up what the symbols on the label mean.”
“What symbols?” She knew she hadn’t seen anything except her granny’s writing on the label.
“These.” He pointed them out, but made sure to keep the bottle out of reach. “The ones that say now that we’ve shared the potion we’re bound together and that every time we polish the bottle off, it’ll fill back up—”
“So we can use it in bed again.” She read off the last of the symbols and immediately felt heat rush across her face. Lovely.
“You’ve used some sort of witch Viagra on me. No wonder I couldn’t get enough of you last night. And if you had any idea what I was going to do to you in your bedroom…well maybe you’d better be glad your mother walked in.”
She stopped and blinked at him.
“My bedroom is magic free. Anything you felt, or wanted to do in there, buddy, is on you. My mother, and a whole group of other witches, made damn sure my crazy magic would never work in there.” She snatched the bottle from his hand. “Now, if you don’t mind, get out.”
She pointed to the door and was pleasantly surprised when it blew open. She pointed to him next and nearly laughed out loud as an unseen force pushed him straight toward the door. Right on cue, it slammed shut behind him.
She sank into a chair and looked at the bottle. Half full. She hadn’t read him the other part of the inscription, the one on the bottom. For as long as you desire each other with both body and heart.
Barrett stared at Sarah’s door. If she was telling the truth then…
“Meowrrrr.”
“You said it, buddy. If she’s telling the truth then I’ve never wanted another woman like I want her.”
It was a difficult puzzle. She really had bespelled him. And it had been nothing but a lot of fun. But her mother had admitted the bedroom was a magic free zone, so what he’d felt for Sarah there…desire, lust, and concern when her mother accused her of messing things up…then those things were real. He rubbed his hand over his jaw.
She hadn’t read him the whole label either. He’d looked the whole thing up before coming over, ready to lay it on her for trying to put a spell on him, not just for sex, but for love. No w
ay was he having his emotions forced, he’d had enough of that in New York. But she hadn’t read the last bit. It was another part of the puzzle and it implied that she didn’t want to trap him.
“Well, hell, kitty.”
He put his hand on the doorknob, but it refused to turn. She’d locked him out.
But he wasn’t an author for nothing. Imagination was the name of the game. He strode home, snatched up the bottle of champagne from his fridge and struck out through their joined back yards. Her garden took him by surprise as he rounded the gate in the hedge that separated their properties. But he had no time to look at the flowers or admire the small birds that flit from one branch to another. He headed straight for her deck and the double sliding glass door.
Like him, she didn’t bother to lock the back. The cat followed him through the screen portion of her sliding doors and shot ahead of him through the kitchen. He approached a little more slowly and wondered suddenly if barging in on a witch was such a smart idea. Dammit, this was like one of his books. Hopefully she wouldn’t fry him on the spot. He rounded the corner and spotted her on a large brown chair, her knees up and looking miserable.
“Sarah.”
“What now?” She lifted her head and he could see she’d been upset.
“I’m sorry.” He held out the bottle of champagne. “It isn’t magic but I think it’ll be rather nice.”
“Yeah, well I am beginning to think magic is occasionally overrated.”
“Really? I’m thinking maybe it could be fun. Last night certainly was.”
“Look if you want another booty call like last night, you might have to wait for Halloween. My magic fails, nine times out of ten.”
“How about we just share some champagne and see what happens? See what we have in common beyond a love for Salem, a green thumb and…” He leaned in, slowly, so she could stop him whenever she wanted. “this.” He kissed her. Slowly, thoroughly, until she kissed him back and opened her lips to allow his tongue to stroke hers.
Finally he broke the kiss and they both gasped for breath. “Your bedroom’s magic free?” he asked and reached out with his free hand to stroke her hair. He meant to take it slow, he really did. Maybe it was the remains of the spell, maybe not. But he wanted her so bad he had to ask.
“Yes. But, Barrett. There’s always going to be magic in my life. One day I am going to get better at it. And one day I’m going to want that bottle again.”
“Mmmm. The one over there? Since it’s clearly full again, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.” He knelt and leaned in to kiss her again. When they stopped this time he rubbed his face against hers and whispered in her ear. “What do you think would happen if we used a little of it to give you a really good, in depth massage?”
She shuddered against him. Considering how the liquid had burned passion down his throat he could imagine what it would do to her skin. Maybe he really was a kink. But when she crawled off the chair and into his lap, he really didn’t think she minded.
“Sounds delicious. But right now, I just want you, Barrett McAllister. We can play with the magic later. I am a witch, but I’m still working on wicked.”
If you liked this sexy witch story check out her sister, Bella’s story and read more from the Town of Salem in Witch Me Good by Renee Field.
http://reneefield.blogspot.ca/
Witch Me Good
About the Author
Lilly Cain writes erotic romance set in many worlds. It provides her with an escape that she hopes her readers can enjoy too!
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Other Books by Lilly Cain
Dark Harmony
Building Magic
Alien Revealed
The Naked Truth
Undercover Alliance
No Reservations
No Restraints
Calling Syn
Return To Me
Billion Dollar Baby
Book 1
Simone Holloway
Copyright © 2013 Simone Holloway
First published by Simone Holloway 2013
Chapter One
“Next!”
An older woman stood in front of an open office door flipping through papers. Her glasses dangled on the edge of her nose as she read an application.
“Sal- Sally?” she called.
“Selene.”
“Suh-lean,” she sounded it out while scribbling a note. “You need to work on your handwriting young lady. He’ll see you now.”
Selene took a breath, stood and straightened her skirt. She had decided to wear a black pencil skirt, a white button up top, and high heels. She’d agonized over her outfit before deciding to dress professionally with a slight sexy edge.
She was convinced all of the girls auditioning would try too hard to impress the man in the ad. They would wear clothes too revealing, too obvious; by dressing conservatively she would stand out, so she hoped.
Still not entirely confident in her theory, she unbuttoned the top button of her shirt and let her auburn hair hang free before leaving the house.
Selene first heard about the audition from a friend of a friend. The woman was a call girl for an exclusive escort service called, ‘Belle Amie.’ The clientele were all billionaires who spared no expense to fulfill their sexual desires.
Selene had always found the service curious, but was too shy to ask any questions.
One day, she heard there was a kind of open casting call for a new girl. The catch was that the girl had to be willing to have a baby.
The client promised that the woman selected would be handsomely compensated.
Selene found the proposition intriguing. She was drowning in student loan debt and a mortgage; she worked sixty hours a week and lived pay check to pay check. She needed the money, and in truth, she was lonely.
She had been stuck in a rut for years: no boyfriend, no prospects, only a few lackluster one night stands. She needed a drastic change to break free from the direction her life was headed.
What the hell, she thought, I’ll go in to the audition.
Now, as she faced the open door she began to have doubts. What kind of man would solicit a stranger to have his baby? Surely a man of his means wouldn’t have any trouble finding a woman. What if he was a criminal or mentally disturbed? Selene was talking herself out of the meeting, but for some reason her feet kept moving, carrying her through the office door.
Once inside, the door slammed shut behind her, making her jump.
The office was clean and modern. It was sparsely decorated and at present empty.
Selene fidgeted not sure if she should sit, or stand and wait to be instructed.
A voice called out from an open door leading to what appeared to be a closet.
“Make yourself comfortable. Have a drink if you like. The bar is to your right.”
The voice sounded calm, confident; not the voice of a psycho killer, she thought.
Thinking it was inappropriate to drink on a job interview she started to move towards the couch to sit, but felt oddly compelled to head to the bar instead. She wasn’t a big drinker but she was nervous and this was an unconventional job application.
Might as well go all in, she thought and poured herself a sherry. She swallowed it in one gulp and helped herself to another.
The man came out of the closet buttoning the cuffs of his shirt while she was downing her second drink.
He smiled at her, amused by her obvious nervousness and said, “I’ve always been fond of sherry as well. Have a seat so we can talk.”
Selene was struck first by his eyes, a deep blue that made her think of the Mediterranean sea, a place she had never b
een, but always wanted to go. A sudden determination filled her: she would see it and more; she was going to get the job.
She put her drink down and walked to the couch. The man followed close behind and took a seat in the adjacent chair.
“So,” he said rubbing his hands together, “we should be formally introduced: my name is Ethan.”
“Selene.”
“Selene, it’s lovely to meet you. You’re probably wondering why I would want a baby. It must seem like an utterly bizarre request.”
Selene shrugged.
“Well, the truth is, I own this building it’s my company, but we’ve fallen on hard times. With the economic collapse and… well I won’t bore you with the details. My parents were extremely wealthy. They passed when I was a child.”
“Oh I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” Selene thought she detected a hint of nervousness from him.
He cleared his throat. “As I said they died and left me a substantial amount of money in trust. There is a catch however: the trust states that I cannot collect the money unless I have an heir, a child of my own blood. I need the money to save my company.”
Ethan paused and watched her closely. Selene’s face remained calm though her mind was reeling with questions. “Why did they demand you have children?” She immediately regretted using the word, ‘demand’ after it left her mouth. She thought it came across hostile, like she was insulting his parents choices. And well, she kind of was, it seemed a bit silly to her.
“My parents were… overly concerned with dynasty, it appears. Anyway, I’ve gone over your background: no arrests, excellent grades in school, not so much as a speeding ticket. What am I missing?”