Wicked Wishes

by Joanna Wylde, Stephanie Burke, Marly Chance

  He looked up to see Hate standing there, a wicked smile on his face.

  "What do you want?" Craven had no time for foolishness. He just wanted to be left alone.

  "In the middle of an orgy? Yeah right. This weekly tradition of yours has gotten quite popular. Word has spread and folks as far away as America are dropping in to participate."

  Craven snorted when he realized he had spoken his thoughts out loud, but turned his attention back to the shifting forms in the room.

  "It has gotten quite big, hasn't it?"

  "And that should make you quite proud, Craven."

  Hate tossed long locks of his hair behind his shoulders, exposing his naked body in all of its glory, before turning to face the man again.

  "But you are not happy."

  "Is there some point to this visit, Hate?"

  "Well, there is some point. I heard what happened, and let me tell you, I was pleased as punch."

  "For my pain?"

  "Because you were beginning to love the Human. Love bet me that you would never feel anything for someone other than yourself. I told him that you would love the Human, for she was pure of spirit. That would appeal to your jaded soul. He lost; I won. And now he owes me a few favors."

  "So that was the bet." Craven could not even work up enough emotion to care that his contemporaries were betting on his life, like it was a game of bones.

  "Care to make it double or nothing?"

  "What are you talking about, Hate?"

  Craven finally pulled his attention away from the crowd and focused in on the redhead.

  "Simple, prove that Nola still has feelings for you. Prove that once your body is awakened to passion, it can never go dormant again."

  "But Nola has no memory of me. How can she remember what was stripped away?"

  "Oberon never said that you couldn't meet her again, just that you couldn't work your magic on her. If she was truly as passionate as everyone was led to believe—and we all heard her screams—then like will recognize like. She will be attracted to you by virtue of your, um, spirit."

  "Spirit?"

  "Oh, come on, Craven. You exude lust like most people wear perfume. Of course she will be able to feel it with no magic from you. You nearly choke us with your aura, and that is when you are depressed and sulking as you are now."

  That earned him a glare that was returned in equal measure.

  "Now, what are you going to do? You wanted the woman; you took punishment after you broke your promise to her. We all know that you sent her home. Oberon only took her memory. So what are you going to do?"

  Craven sat for a moment, looked at all the sensual things that surrounded him, and still felt nothing. Only one thing could make him feel again. And that was Nola.

  "I'm going to go and crash a wedding."

  "Good show," Hate crowed as Craven stood and disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

  "Fairies in love are almost as easy as Humans," he giggled, then went to find his brother. There were a few things he wanted done on earth, purely for entertainment.

  He wanted Adrian Paul to pose nude for erotic book covers. He wanted a few annoying boy bands to hate each other enough to break up, especially the Back Ally ones and the ones that were supposed to be human temperature but left him cold. He wanted Metallica to get back together—that band rocked. He wanted a melding of heavy metal, rap, and classical to become very popular: he wanted to piss off the conservatives: and he wanted Jerry Springer to start showing the fights again. The fights were some of his best work.

  Besides, after all that Love did to change things, the old boy deserved to suffer.

  With a smile on his lips, he dove into the orgy headfirst and was soon sucking and fucking with the best of them.

  Chapter Twenty

  Nola stood before the Holy Man, eyes crossed in boredom, as he seemed to drone on and on.

  What was taking so long, anyway? Just say a few words and get this disaster started, she thought as she stiffened a yawn.

  She looked over at her groom and…

  Could a man get more middle-of-the-road?

  Even dressed in his wedding finery, he still looked about as exciting as watching grass grow. No, at least there was growth there. He looked exciting as watching paint dry.

  Ooey, sticky paint. Drying in a thick coating, pushing out all of the air, suffocating in its intensity. That is, until someone splashed a little paint remover on it and made the paint disappear.

  She looked over at her groom again and sighed.

  Nope, he was still there.

  Maybe some big monster, like the kind that liked to plague Tokyo, would come and smash the house, carrying away Gregor as he sat there calmly waiting to be eaten.

  Never happen, she sighed to herself.

  Maybe the earth would…

  Hold the phone, who was that?

  Sitting—rather, lounging—in the first row was a man like none she had ever seen before. She wondered who brought him. And where was his leash?

  He was dressed all in black, uncompromising silk, from the Nehru collar to the cuff in his baggy pants. His hair was raven's wing black and blended with his clothes. His eyes were the strangest shade of turquoise, and were glued to her face.

  He winked at her.

  Wow, she thought. This is getting interesting.

  The man moved, laid one arm across the back of the empty chair next to him, which caused his tunic to part and expose the silver of one shining nipple bar. Woof.

  "Our vows?" a voice intruded in on her thoughts.

  "Huh?" She turned dazed eyes to Gregor.

  "Our vows, sweetheart. I know our marriage is making you…blah, blah, blah."

  His words transformed into gibberish. She turned and watched as the strange man tossed his hair over his shoulder and smiled at her. When he noticed her attention was fully on him again, he tapped his front tooth with a long black fingernail. Eroticism was his cologne, and he wore it well.

  "Nola. Nola?"

  She blinked and turned to Gregor.

  "What?" she asked her voice weak from longing as she turned from the man in black.

  "I asked you if you would be my bride."

  "Um, can I think about that for a minute?" she asked, then slapped her hands over her mouth as she realized what she said.

  The whole wedding assembly gasped and murmurs began to fill the room.

  "What?" The usually complacent Gregor actually managed a small flush of embarrassment.

  "Um, what I meant was… Oh I don't…"

  Then the man in black stood, as if ready to leave.

  But before he turned to walk back down the aisle she just crossed, he looked at her, as if to say 'make a decision now'.

  She looked at him, then back at Gregor.

  Decision made.

  Tossing back her veil, she called out, "Hey. You. Boyo." She was already leaving the platform as her words reached his ears.

  "Me?" he asked quietly, a smirk attractively lifting his full lips.

  "Yeah, you. You leaving?"

  "Yes. I hope you have an exciting…" he looked back at Gregor. "Peaceful…um, adequate life."

  "I didn't ask you all of that. But I what to know if you have a car."

  "Motor bike. Why?"

  "I need a lift."

  He smiled again and nodded once.

  "Sorry, Mum," she called out as she raced down the aisle, leaving Gregor slacked-mouthed with shock, probably the first real emotion he'd shown in years. "I'll call you when I get there."

  "Nola," her mother screamed before fainting in her father's arms. Her father sighed and caught her falling body, and shook his head at his daughter, as if to say today's youth make no sense.

  Turning, she grabbed the stranger's hand as she raced down the hall and out the back door.

  I don't even know your name," she giggled. "But there is something about you."

  "I am Craven," he laughed as he led her outside and to a huge black Harley.

 
; "I hope so," she giggled. She fought with the heavy folds of her marriage robe as she mounted on the back of the bike.

  "I am also the Master of Carnality, Lord of Painful Pleasures, Prince of…"

  "I always liked royalty," she purred as he climbed on the bike and she wrapped herself around him.

  "Where to?" he asked.

  "Your place," she decided. "After you make my fantasies come true, I want to learn a lot more about you."

  "Works for me."

  And they were off.

  Epilogue

  Craven lay back in his bed, sighing with pleasure as a rumpled, damp, and definitely orgasmic Nola gyrated above him.

  Her wedding finery was lost somewhere in a tangle of black silk, her expensive silk robes a colorful accent to the stark color.

  She had shed her clothing along with her inhibitions as soon as she had walked through the door of the remote thatched-roof cabin.

  He gasped, tossing his head back as she bent low, tugging his nipple bar between her teeth, and making his chest throb with a pleasurable pain.

  His hands fisted in her hair, holding her closer to the sensation, silently demanding more of the same treatment.

  Nola was only too happy to comply.

  With him buried almost painfully deep within her, she rotated her hips and clutched handfuls of his flowing hair as she again tugged at the silver bar that pierced his nipple. Then she clamped her inner walls around his thrusting cock, making him moan in delight at her cleverness while making the sensation within her sheath multiply almost unbearably.

  His hands released their hold on her head and shifted to her hips. Holding her writhing form fast, he abruptly thrust upwards, impaling her, and making her eyes roll back in her head as she felt her orgasm approach.

  "Craven!" she gasped. "So good! Don't stop. Never fucking stop!"

  In response, Craven tightened his hold on her and rolled them off to the side, until he was on top. He was large enough to complete this maneuver without having to pull out.

  Once in position between her wide-spread thighs, he gripped her ankles and pulled them over his shoulders.

  "Is…this…what…you…want?" He punctuated each word with a pounding thrust that left her gasping for breath and pleading for mercy—for him to stop, for him to do it all again.

  "Ohh," she gasped from between gritted teeth as she felt her body stiffen in preparation to launch her into heights unknown.

  Her neck arched, throwing her head back and her mouth opened to emit one solid shrike as her muscles began to wring the seed from his body.

  "Shit!" Craven gritted out as her unexpected release triggered his own.

  Uncontrollably, his body slammed into hers, his hips worked like pistons as he lost control of his larger motor skills.

  Unintelligible grunts and moans escaped his lips as he thrust into her one final time, going as deep as, well, humanly possible as his cock erupted, sending spurt after spurt of his essence deep within her womb.

  Finally with a sigh, his body relaxed against her trembling one, muscles exhausted and fatigued after this strenuous session of love play.

  "This is not like me," Nola muttered as Craven rolled off to the side, pulling her to snuggle in close as his softening cock slipped from her sheath with an audible pop.

  "Maybe I am what you always wished for," he offered as he began to lazily run his fingers through her damp hair.

  She tilted her head up for a moment, and then nodded as if some question was settled in her head.

  "Well besides running from weddings at the last minute, I am going to be a doctor."

  "Well," he replied in the same amused vein, "I make wishes come true."

  "And you live in a thatch cottage?"

  "It's a night job."

  "And during the day?"

  "During the day, I am here to fulfill your every desire."

  He leaned down and kissed her on her cute stubborn little nose.

  "Really," she snorted.

  "Well, I am royalty," he responded, lifting one eyebrow.

  "And you crashed my wedding too…?"

  "Protect you from the evil prince. He would have stolen your soul."

  "Uh huh."

  She rolled her eyes at the stranger—who was not a stranger—in her bed.

  "Nola, do you believe in fairy tales?"

  "Like the hero rescues the maiden and happily ever after? Are you a writer?"

  "No…I am a fairy."

  Nola froze for a moment, looked down at his cock, still slippery from their most recent activities, and snorted in laughter.

  "Could have fooled me. I mean, I am missing some of the same equipment you have."

  While she was still chuckling over her own little joke, Craven snapped his fingers and the room began to spin.

  "Tell me Nola," he whispered as the flower bower began to bloom around her. "What is your wildest, most wicked wish? I guarantee I can make your wishes come true."

  A Wish Away

  ©Marly Chance, 2002

  Chapter One

  "So, I'm basically invisible, neutered, lacking all sexual vibes. Polly, it's infuriating." Tiffany leaned back in her chair and shook her head. "I've been in the friend zone for so long that he's never gonna see me any differently."

  Polly looked at her friend and nodded sympathetically. "See, that's the problem. He thinks the two of you are best buddies."

  Tiffany sighed. "We are best buddies, dammit. I've known him for six years. You know, that's a long time to suppress lust."

  Polly laughed. "Well, you weren't exactly suppressing all lust. You've dated. You've been through relationships with Thomas the Total Twit and Jake the Jerk. And he's had his share of blonde bimbos, too." Polly made a face and stuffed a crispytate in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

  Tiffany grabbed another crispytate, but paused before it reached her mouth. "Yeah, but we're both single now." she said indignantly. "Do you think he just doesn't find me attractive? I mean, I'm ordinary, I know that. I'm no blonde bimbo, but I'm not a troll. I have my good points."

  Polly studied her friend seriously for a moment. "Well, I find you attractive. I'd have sex with you if I was into the whole girl/girl thing." Tiffany's short dark hair and her gamin face with those sparkling blue eyes had snared men more often than the oblivious Tiffany realized. In spite of the joking tone of the conversation, Polly wondered why Tiffany never seemed to understand that her quiet loveliness had an appeal all its own to men. She winked and nodded. "Yep, I'd do you if I was a guy for sure. I think he's blind—must be all that overexposure to a single hair color. He's gone blonde blind and doesn't recognize attractiveness in brunettes, anymore. You think? We could be onto a real scientific find here."

  Tiffany laughed. "Blonde blind? Well, it's a thought. Beats me just being invisible. Hell, I'm getting desperate. Maybe I should just strip. You know, leave the room when he's over for supper tonight and walk back in stark naked. He is male. Stark naked trumps hair color any day of the week."

  Polly took a sip from her drink. "Hmmm…true. He's gorgeous. No lack of testosterone there. It might do the trick. Just jump him." She thought about it for a minute. "Yeah. You know, this plan has merit. He's bound to see you differently if you flash him."

  Tiffany shook her head and tried to stop laughing. "Polly, I was joking. I can't flash him. I can't walk out naked. Rejection would be bad enough. Naked rejection would be too horrible to contemplate. I'd have to move. Preferably off-planet. And change my name. Then I'd spend years in mind-maintenance fixing my damaged psyche."

  Polly laughed. "Hey, I never said it was without a certain risk factor. But I'm betting it would work. "

  Tiffany sobered a little. Sipping her drink, she tried to figure it all out. It was ridiculous really. She had a good life. She did a good job as an accountant. She paid her taxes and her bills on time. She had great friends. She was happy. But she wanted more. She wanted passion. She wanted some excitement. She wanted…Zak.

&n
bsp; It was impossible to pinpoint the exact moment her attraction to him had deepened. The first day she met him she'd been attracted. He was gorgeous. He was six foot three inches and had an incredible body. He had been moving into her apartment complex in the building across from hers. She had been walking through the parking lot just as he had been carrying boxes toward his place. The large transpo vehicle was parked out front and he had emerged from the back of it with his arms loaded.

  She had given him one brief glance of appreciation before turning to go into her place. Then she heard a loud crash. Turning around, she saw that he had dropped the top box. She heard a muttered curse that sounded foreign. She walked over and asked, "Hi, I'm Tiffany Simmons. Can I help?"

  He had put the remaining boxes down and was bent toward the smaller box on the ground. At the sound of her voice, he jerked upward in surprise and spun around as if expecting a fight. His hands had been clenched.

  She remembered clearly how her heart had pounded and her mouth had gone dry. Up close, he had taken her breath away. His dark brown hair was pulled back in a stubby ponytail at his neck. He had silver gray eyes that seemed to look all the way into her soul for a minute. His broad shoulders and big chest looked mouth-watering in that dark blue shirt he had been wearing. His pants were faded and hugged the muscular contours of his body. She had been mesmerized.

  He had stared at her intently for a moment, and then grinned. He said, "Thanks for the offer, Tiffany. I'm your clumsy new neighbor, Zak Lextin. I think I can manage these boxes but I would love something cold to drink. My transfer unit isn't programmed yet."

  Her heart had gone into overdrive instantly. So, she brought him a cold drink and it had been the beginning of a friendship that had lasted six years. In the beginning, she had hoped for more. Looking back on it, she could be honest with herself and admit that particular point. But at the time, she had pretended that friendship was all she wanted.

  With an inward grimace she admitted with brutal honesty that she had settled into the comfortable routine of friendship. This happened primarily because he had never given any indication that he wanted more. Her subtle attempts to catch his attention had been met with oblivious, friendly good humor. Oh, they would joke about sex with each other occasionally, but there was always an underlying understanding that it was a joke.