Sex and the Psychic Witch

by Annette Blair

  “Did you see how fast the bankers walked after she started?”

  King rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s really a problem.”

  “I know,” Harmony said, “but we can’t talk about her here. I’ve been researching ghosts, and she’s as likely to roam the grounds as the house. Do you have any bicycles so we can get away for a while and talk privately?”

  “Any preferences? We have all kinds.”

  “You choose. I’ll go change into some play clothes.”

  “That dress sure in hell makes me want to play.”

  “Stop using negative words. It sure in heaven makes you want to play, which surprises me, because I thought you’d be ticked off when I showed up wearing it.”

  “Oh I was, until I saw how you handled the bankers. They had already refused me, you know.”

  “And I nearly changed their minds? See.” She raised her chin. “I’m almost good for something.”

  “You’re aces, Orgasmatron. You set a world record last night. I had to put liniment on my hand this morning.” He flexed it and winced.

  “If you had actually slept with me . . . you’d need liniment on your pecker.” She ran toward the door he’d nearly kept her from entering the other day, and, now, just being near her made him wonder why he’d tried to keep her out.

  “Get the bikes,” she said, “and something to snack on. I’ll be right back.”

  “I could snack on you,” he called, and the gardeners applauded.

  What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never made such an inappropriate statement out loud in his life.

  He blamed Harmony for unstarching him, but he might as well accept the inevitable. She had him by the balls, and, for now, he liked it that way. He went to get the bikes.

  Bicycles and bananas. That’s what he had waiting for her when she came back. She wore short shorts and a black hoodie, and she threw a hoodie his way.

  “What the hell are those?” she asked, eyeing the bicycles.

  “Mine is an 1869 English Velocipede, or a boneshaker as they were not so fondly called. And yours is an 1889 Lady’s Rover. The amazing selling point on yours was that the central bar had been removed to allow for your long, cumbersome skirts.”

  “Get a life. What’s with the bananas? You got a monkey on the island?”

  “You said to bring a snack.”

  She shrugged and got on her bike. “I guess fruit’s better than cookies. Not. Hey, my bike has tires, and yours doesn’t.”

  “No kidding,” he said, peddling his ass off behind her.

  “Peddle fast,” she said, “because the louder Gussie wails, the lower our odds are of getting away.”

  The wail caught up with them at the bottom of the hill, and so did the sound of Curt shouting their names.

  Before clearing a wooded area, King grabbed a tree branch and dragged it behind his bike to erase their tracks. His military school pranks had finally paid off.

  Harmony led the way, because King liked watching her backside as she pedaled in those spandex shorts.

  Tough, riding a bike with a boner.

  “What’s this?” Harmony asked when she saw the fence blocking the entrance to the old cave.

  “I honestly don’t know. As a kid, I was always told it was dangerous and forbidden, and to stay away.”

  “I find it hard to believe that you obeyed.”

  “I never lucked out with disobedience in this particular spot. Probably the only forbidden place on the island I missed, though.”

  “It’s a great island. I adore the peach roses by the front doors, the trellised wisteria, the stone walls covered with ivy, the wildflower woods.” She shrugged. “I guess I love the whole place.”

  That threw him, because deep down, he felt the same way.

  “Shall we see what’s in here?” She pulled the rotting fence from the entry with one tug. They walked their bikes inside and slid the fence back in place. To hide the bikes, they walked them deep into the cave, choosing the brighter tunnels as they went. When the ground got rocky, they grabbed the bananas, abandoned the bikes, and went on.

  Harmony was curious, maybe a little too curious.

  “I think we’ve gone a bit too far,” King said, “and taken a few too many turns. We need to find our way back, don’t forget.”

  “I know the way. I’m wondering why it keeps getting lighter in here. Watch, we’ll come out somewhere else on the island. Yikes!”

  Whoosh. She disappeared into the earth, as if she’d taken an express elevator to hell.

  “Harmony!” King took a cautious step to the side, so he could rescue her, not follow, and whoosh, he

  took a slippery slide on his sore ass, until he came to a hard stop in a bright, icy, underground . . .

  palace?

  “Isn’t this gorgeous?” Harmony marveled at the stalagmites and stalactites. “Talk about your phallic symbols. Oh look, that one’s bent. Do you think this is the center of the earth?”

  “That was some tumble,” King said. “Did you land on your head?”

  She grinned. “It was energizing, like taking an icy water slide straight to—”

  “Never-Get-Out Land?”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  KING put an arm around her to keep her warm, but her shiver ran straight through him. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, “but we can’t leave the same way we came.”

  “It’s so beautiful; it’s worth falling down an icy rabbit hole for. Like a cathedral, but more spiritual, don’t you think? Mother Earth at her finest. The colors of the chemicals in the limestone deposits are amazing, but look at that.”

  She went to a tall, jagged, concave surface on one wall. “Good Goddess, these jags are amethyst crystals. Did you ever see anything so gorgeous?”

  King took a handful off the floor. “Look, broken crystals. Some of them are good-sized.”

  “I collect crystals. These are powerful.” Harmony put loose crystals in her pockets. “Amethysts have a vibrational frequency that protects its wearers from external negative energy. Can you think of anything better to carry around in the castle? Oh, and the crystals you find are more powerful than the ones you buy.”

  King touched the wall of crystals and closed his eyes. “I feel the power.”

  “Mock all you want. I know what I’m talking about. These will help slow Gussie down. They should also come in handy when we figure out how to send her on her way.”

  “We can do that?”

  “We came biking to talk about getting rid of her. Maybe the Goddess sent us down here for a reason.”

  “So we could freeze our asses off?”

  “It’s bright over at that end, but it’s also cloudy, or steamy.” Harmony shivered.

  King unzipped his hoodie. “You can’t tell at first glance, but I think there’s an underground pool over there.”

  She accepted his hoodie, held it together in the front like a cape, and collected amethysts for his pockets.

  “Is the steam rising from the water because it’s like a hot bath? Or is that a mirage? Think we could warm up and swim toward the light? Does this feel like a near-death experience? Suppose we died. Who picks priceless gems off the ground on earth?” She shivered again. “If we are on earth, are we stealing?”

  He put an arm around her. “We’re alive, and I own the island. They’re my amethysts. Take all you want.”

  “Whew. Good. Let’s go for a swim and get warm.”

  “Don’t plan on the water being too warm .” He went to the pool. “Steam simply means the water’s warmer than the air. Now take off your clothes.”

  “I beg your pardon, but I’m too blooming cold already, thanks, especially if that isn’t a hot spa.”

  “I can’t believe you’re being prudish, after last night.”

  “I’m not. I just don’t feature being rescued naked.”

  “If we can’t get out by following the light, we’
ll be glad to have dry clothes to put on when we get back.”

  Harmony perked up. “And if there is a way out, we can come back for our clothes before we take it, right?”

  “Whatever you say.” First, he wanted her naked in the hopefully warm water. He was primed thinking about it. Hell, finding their way out could wait. He wanted to find his way inside in the worst way, especially now that he knew how hot she was. He’d bet he could have her willing and begging in two seconds.

  “Begging? You blooming wish. I can’t believe you want to play before we look for an escape route.”

  “Did I say that out loud?”

  She gave him two silent eye blinks. “Sure you did.”

  King thought she looked the way she had when he asked her what she was doing at the castle . . . before she came up with the vintage clothing story . . . that turned out to be true.

  “Don’t you remember saying it out loud? How could I have answered you, if you didn’t?”

  “Good point. Really? I said that out loud?”

  “Um-hmm.”

  “You can’t tell what I’m thinking? Never mind. Of course you can’t. Let’s swim. Warm water sex sure beats freezing to death and getting calcium slimed.”

  “You’re one horny package of testosterone, Hurricane Boy.”

  “Look who’s talking, Orgasmatron. Like you don’t have a major case of bungee-jumping hormones.”

  “Are you suggesting that we interconnect our hyperactive hormones to warm up and indulge our come-hither pheromones at the same time?”

  “Pheromones! That’s what this is.” King sighed in relief, so much relief, he knew she’d caught on.

  “Sex for sport,” she said, “and I’m on your team, right?”

  Again with the mind reading? But nah; he hadn’t thought about that since he tried to throw her out the first day . . . after which she happened to mention being a cheerleading team player looking for the big O .

  Weird. “You know, don’t you, that even if we don’t get out of here on our own, someone will eventually find us, right?”

  “Because Gussie’s wailing will drive them crazy if they don’t?”

  “Precisely. And she’s worse now that she knows you. I never heard her wail as loud as she does when you leave the castle.”

  “I’m sure they’ll find us eventually. But I’m freezing now.”

  “Let’s warm up in the water, shall we? Wait,” he said as she was about to ditch his hoodie. “Let’s take it slow, undress each other.”

  “In different circumstances, I could learn to appreciate your unwavering sexual focus, but I’m freezing here. I don’t know, Paxton, for somebody with a steel rod shoved up his—”

  “Will you quit that? The rod’s gone, already. You extracted it the day you told me it was there. Haven’t you figured that out yet? Great guns! I never thought of you as a slow learner.”

  “I’m not the only slow learner here. It took you two blooming passes last night to find the spot I most wanted you to touch.”

  “That’s called foreplay, sunshine. Get used to it. I’m the ranking commander when it comes to taking it slow.”

  “Jelly legs,” she warned, falling against him.

  “Jelly legs?” He encircled her with both arms, pulled her close, and she rested her cheek against his chest.

  “Yep,” she said looking up. “It’s a sexual response of the female skeletal system. When a man does or says something that shoots straight to our . . . our—”

  “Hormones?”

  “Yeah, those. The bones in our legs turn to jelly.”

  King didn’t want to let go of her to take her clothes off—how twisted was he? If that wasn’t insane, he didn’t know what was. Oh, yeah, now he remembered. His magnetic attraction to hot little miss sexy pants with attitude. But when he unzipped her hoodie and found the bold black message on her white tee, Orgasm Donor, he embraced insanity.

  As a matter of fact, his willing recipient of her as-yet-to-be-donated orgasm sat up and begged. Who’s insane now? Not me. “That shirt says you had an ulterior motive for dragging me out here.”

  “Yeah, and your dick’s really upset about that.” She cupped him.

  “We’re supposed to talk about how to handle Gussie,” he said, gritting his teeth.

  “We will . . . eventually . . . afterward.”

  “As long as I wasn’t lured into a sexual trap for no good reason.”

  “Hah. If I had suggested a sexual trap, you would have raced me here.”

  “Okay, you got me. I’m a sucker for a sexy lady in need of a good—”

  “Orgasm recipient?”

  His eye crinkles cut deep. “First,” he said, sliding her shorts down her legs and kissing her lemon lace panties, a sight to feed any man’s lurid imagination, “let’s get these clothes off you.”

  “Hey, I’m calling for some equal opportunity freezing here. I go bare-assed, you go bare-assed!” She unzipped his slacks and removed them along with his control, sliding them down his legs, her cheek grazing his boner, her peppermint hair tickling his thighs, making him ready to . . . “No fair, you’re instigating preforeplay foreplay, and I’m the commander, here. Stop taking the lead.”

  Ignoring him, Harmony parted her lips and put the slightest pressure on his boner with her nibbling mouth, nothing between his blow pop and her lips but a pair of black silk briefs.

  She looked up. “You really want me to stop?”

  “Hell no! Lose the briefs.”

  “In a minute.” She slid her hands up the backs of his thighs, beneath his briefs to cup a bun in each hand, and even as she gently stroked his bandaged butt cheek, his big boy danced while she watched in fascination, up close and personal. Then she palmed her way around toward his happy place, and he about came when she cupped his balls in one hand and grasped his dick with the other.

  “Does your man brain wanna come out and play?”

  Like he wanted to take his next breath. He’d admit it; his man brain was doing his thinking for him.

  She removed her hands from beneath his briefs, and he groaned; then she pulled them down and caught them on his dick.

  “Long, thick, and ready to rumble,” Harmony said, assessing him from all angles and seeming to like what she saw. “I can finally say it with all honesty. You da King! Hail to da King!”

  His dick caught the chill in the air, almost embarrassing him by trying to go into hibernation. “Great guns, it’s cold.” He pulled off his shoes and socks and dipped a foot in the water. “Our prayers have been answered. It’s a hot spring! I’m going in first to make sure there’s nothing hiding beneath the surface.”

  “Yikes. Like snakes?”

  “Like a calcified bottom with hard pointy tops that hurt. If there were snakes, they’d be boiled.”

  “Oh good.” She took off her cork-heeled shoes and stood shivering at the edge: a blonde goddess in lemon lace, and all his . . . to play with . . . for a while . . . He needed to remember that she was only his to slake his lust with and to help slake hers. How did he get so lucky? He devoured the sight of her while he lowered himself into the water to scout around.

  “It’s safe,” he said, surfacing a few minutes later. “Come on in, but slide in slow and easy. That’s my girl, and tread water, because there are stalagmites down there.”

  “How can that be?”

  “They formed before the hot spring trickled its way in here.”

  She floated beside him, sighing in appreciation. “This is heaven.”

  He curled an arm around her, so they skimmed the surface together, his boner returning to a formidable size as she teased it with her knees, on and off, almost by accident.

  “If you think this is heaven,” he whispered in her ear. “Join me for the real thing.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  HARMONY shivered in anticipation as King guided them to a corner of the hot spring, hooked his elbows on the calcified
edge of nature’s spa, and drew her between his legs. Her anchor. Her target. No, she must be the target, because King wielded the dart. Big, thick and long, his dart.

  She wound her arms around his neck, her legs around his hips, and before she could put him where she wanted him, he stole her focus by kissing her. Oh, yeah. Foreplay. She forgot. This was new to her, this spicy male musk permeating her senses; hot, talented lips grazing her ear, melting her, slow nibbling at her nape, fine-tuning her sensual receptors and causing a slow rise in her heartbeat.

  He tasted of salt and sweat. Man and sex. More like romance than lust, but more than romance. She could fall for this man. This was more than sex for sport, this prelude to enduring pleasure, except that

  King’s version became a pleasure all its own. Ultimate foreplay.

  He held her hips away from his, controlled her movement in the hot, licking spring, so only the tip of his shaft touched her, stroked her, wherever, however he wanted, depending on how he moved her. She flowered and opened to await his pleasure. She ran as hot as the spring, and yet he continued skimming her surfaces until her every nerve ending stood at attention, and the slightest abrasion, like his whiskers at the crown of her breasts, made her want him more. How much higher could she rise before she climaxed without him?

  He looked up from his attention to her saluting nipple. “Do you have any idea how beautiful and luscious you are? Can you know what you do to me? I can’t believe I tried to turn you away.” He lifted her hand.

  “I don’t care where you got the ring,” he said, stroking it. “It made me see you in a different light.” He laved her nipple, scattering shock waves, like mini orgasms, that she could hardly bear, yet rode with wonder. “Last night was probably the best sex I’ve ever had, and I didn’t even have you,” he admitted.

  She kissed him then, because she didn’t want him to see her tears. The best sex. Less than lust.