“After the crap you’ve put me through? Not really.” He squeezed her burning ass, twisting one cheek until she whimpered. “Besides, I did some recon.” The pain relented for a split second before his hand stung her skin once again, each impact followed by an even harder smack. “You own a lot of interesting reading material.”
She squirmed, both to avoid the biting flicks and increase the pressure on her clit. Bound as she was, her efforts were futile. Her breaths growing shallower with each inhale, she panted. “It’s rude… for you… to snoop.”
“Says the witch who left her eReader unlocked and in plain sight. On purpose.” His flesh continued to meet hers with resounding cracks, while his other palm circled with maddening slowness. “Since those books had an obsession with safe-words, here’s yours: ‘I’m very sorry I overreacted. It won’t happen again. Please forgive me.’”
Moaning as liquid heat pooled between her legs, she glowered at the tree. “That’s three sentences, not a word. And hell will freeze over before—”
Spreading her, he circled a fingertip over her clit. Her hands clenched into fists. Sweat beaded over her forehead as her ass throbbed in response to the intensifying swats. If she weren’t bound, the pleasure would have sent her falling on her hands and knees by the time he finally paused.
Before she could recover, he slipped a finger inside her, then slid it in and out. She shuddered at the exquisite friction even as instinct demanded more. His hot breath grazed her nape. His teeth pressed into her flesh. He sucked, marking a path down the slope of her neck. Silver specks seeped into the periphery of her vision. She bit her lower lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of moans and gasps.
“I like how wet you are.” He added a digit, pushed deeper, and spread his fingers. Though slickness eased his penetration, the impalement tested her limits. Before she could object to the discomfort, he spanked her again. She cried out as her ass burned, the hungry throb between her legs urgent and unrelenting.
He pumped harder, and she couldn’t stop her inner muscles from contracting, from squeezing him each time he entered her. Blindsided by the strength of her orgasm, she spasmed, a high-pitched cry escaping her throat. For what felt like forever, a flash of white blotted out reality.
When she registered her surroundings once more, she realized the blows had stopped. Coarse denim rasped over her abused bottom. Metal clinked, followed by a soft whirr. A rigid shaft of pure heat slid between her thighs.
His low voice rumbled against her ear. “Ready for more?”
Author’s Note
Thank you for checking out Snowbound! Unfortunately (for the both of us), this is where it ends. While I adore writing sex scenes, short story structural constraints require Karli and Flint to have a bit of privacy. I’m grateful they allowed me a fleeting glimpse of their interlude, and I wish them both a very naughty happily ever after.
A devout fan of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural, and Charmed, I’ve always wanted to write about normal people with supernatural problems. Considering I got my start with Harry Potter fanfiction (back in those super-embarrassing hormone-crazed teenage years), I’m surprised it took me this long to pen magical tales of my own.
A Witch’s Night Out, my paranormal romance series, materialized in a burst of sparks and fur earlier this summer. Since then, Kate Richards has been helping me file down the rough edges. After some finger-breaking work, we managed to get the first book on (electronic) store shelves in time for Halloween. The subsequent two will be available this winter.
If you’re curious about Karli and Flint’s world, swing by my website to learn more. I love hearing from readers. Your feedback is the best support an author can get.
About Tara
Globetrotter, lover of languages, and romance author, Tara Quan has an addiction for crafting tales with a pinch of spice and a smidgen of kink. Inspired by her travels, she enjoys tossing her kick-ass heroines and alpha males into exotic contemporary locales, supernatural worlds, and post-apocalyptic futures. Her characters, armed with magical powers or conventional weapons, are guaranteed a suspenseful and sensual ride, as well as their own happily ever after.
Tara’s most recent project is A Witch’s Night Out, a series of paranormal stories for Decadent Publishing’s 1-Night Stand line. The first installment, Flirting with Fire, features a clueless warlock, his fed-up cat familiar, and the magic of All Hallows’ Eve. It will be followed this winter by Frosty Relations and Fireworks at Midnight. All three contain explicit sex. None include spanking, but the same cannot be said about her earlier works.
To learn more about Tara’s books and social media haunts, visit her website: www.taraquan.com
Carnival of the Damned by Jolynn Raymond
Seventeen-year-old Loiza Connelly slipped down the servant’s staircase shoes in hand, and out the kitchen door unseen. She rounded the corner of the manor and paused to put on her shoes, before racing across the clearing towards the woods. The full moon lay heavy atop a thin string of clouds, looking as if they were trying to help the laden orb to its rightful place in the sky for the night. As she ran, the sound of glee spilled from her lips as she lifted up her petticoats so her legs could carry her faster towards the concealing forest. The carnival and the mysterious fortune teller awaited her return.
Loiza’s family had visited the traveling cavalcade during the day. Taking in all of the fantastical sights as the bright sun shone down, listening to the hawkers try to sell their wares and the ringmaster shout about the cursed and freakish oddities in his collection. They had gone in, her papa not denying her when she turned her pleading eyes his way, telling him she simply had to see for herself, and that she most definitely was not frightened one bit.
Her mama had sniffed at the idea of strolling through and gazing upon the freaks inside, saying Loiza should start acting like a lady and refrain, but her papa had said he’d take her, and so they’d gone in to discover the wonder’s the tent beheld. There was a two-headed cow, a boy who had scales like a snake, and twin men joined at their backs. There was a sword swallower and a man who threw knives with perfect precision at a woman bound and spinning on a target yards away. There was a tattooed man and a bearded girl who Loiza pitied. All of them captured Loiza’s interest, and some made her heart lay heavy in her chest with pity, but the last woman inside the tent of oddities was an exotic woman draped in yards of shimmering fabric, a concubine from Persia the sign before her read. She caught Loiza’s gaze through the narrow slit between her veils. She whispered at Loiza when her father walked away towards the exit.
“Go to the fortune teller Loiza. He has much you need to know.”
Loiza stared at the woman in shock. How had she known her name? Had her papa said it? Loiza didn’t think so. “The fortune teller?”
The concubine’s eyes shifted alerting Loiza that her father had realized his daughter was not by his side and was returning to get her. The mysterious woman simply gave a curt nod and then closed her eyes.
“Come Loiza. Your mama is waiting for us.”
“She told me to go see the fortune teller, papa. Can I please go?” Loiza’s family was descended from a magical Gypsy clan and so were very aware that magic existed. They also knew there were many charlatans among them who preyed on the unsuspecting, duping them into seeking their fortunes as a way to separate them from their coins.
“Loiza, magic isn’t to dabble in and there’s no good to come from seeing your future.”
“But papa, she knew my name.”
“Most likely she heard me speaking to you.” Nicabar Arcos looked at the woman who was trying to manipulate his young daughter, scowling when she refused to open her eyes. He sensed a dangerous energy coming from her, and wanted to get Loiza as far away from her as possible.
“Papa…”
“No!” Nicabar took Loiza by the arm and led her from the tent, refusing to discuss the matter further. Thinking it done, Loiza’s father was back to
his jovial self a few minutes later as her led his wife and daughter through the fair, taking in the sights and wonders, and filling up on all kinds of treats to eat, the exotic woman and the fortune teller gone from his mind. Unbeknownst to him, as they were jostled about while entering the tent for the dog and pony show, a child slipped a folded note into Loiza’s hand. Knowing better than to react, Loiza tucked it into her pocket, hoping the pounding of her anxious heart wouldn’t give her secret away.
So now here she was, following a deer path through the woods that surrounded her family’s estate, following the directions on the note that summoned her back to the carnival for a clandestine meeting with the fortune teller. Most girl’s would have been frightened, but Loiza was sure footed and full of excitement. Every path and trail was mapped upon her head and heart, having spent hours among the trees and woodland creatures as she grew up. Her family were Gypsy witches, and trips into the woods for berries, herbs, and other ingredients for tonics and potions had been a regular adventure since she was old enough to accompany her mama.
The forest thickened but the fat lazy moon shed its buttery yellow light through the branches overhead. Loiza found the trail she needed and soon came out on the edge of a clearing where the far off lights of the carnival could be seen on the other side. She raced forward once again, her destination in reach, sprinting through the meadow, until she was standing behind one of the brightly colored tents, heart slamming in her chest, gasping for breath, overjoyed and yet suddenly wary of what she would encounter.
“This way girl. He’s been expecting you.” Loiza whirled around at the sound of the child’s voice, startled, but then put at ease to see a boy much younger than her.
“You’ve been watching for me?”
“He knew when you would arrive. Come.”
The child took her hand and Loiza went willingly, sensing no danger, only adventure. The boy led her between tents, the scents of animals, hay, and seasoned meats floating in the air. They passed a caravan that held the smell of spices and oils as familiar as the potion kitchen at home, and then stopped before a dark blue tent with a quarter moon and stars on the side.
Loiza took in her surroundings, noting with a hint of trepidation that they were at the far end of the tents. The one before her was shrouded in shadows, and seemed too far removed from the voices and people of the carnival it claimed kinship with. Before she could question her judgment in coming here alone, the child dropped her hand and gave her a push forward. The flap of the tent gave way easily, and Loiza found herself standing before a man who was the epitome of a fortune teller. His eyes were black and hooded, divulging no expression. His clothes brightly colored silks and satins, a beard covered his chin, long and soft below the thin line of his colorless lips. His ears held golden rings as did his hands, and before him on as small table cloaked in red silk, were a crystal sphere and a multitude of candles that were near gutted.
“Sit girl.”
Loiza hesitated, partly from nervousness, partly from the battle to rein in her excitement. It wouldn’t do to wear her heart on her sleeve in front of this man. These people already seemed to know too much about her.
“Sit or run back to your papa.”
Loiza straightened her back and glared down at the man. “I’ll sit, but I’ll not swallow all of your tales without doubt. I’m not new to magic.”
“I know who you are girl. The question is do you know me?”
Loiza toed the dirt beneath one shoe, thinking of an answer that would make her look less like a silly child for showing her bravado. “You are a seer of the future. Your name doesn’t matter; I’ve come for your sight, not to make your formal acquaintance.”
“Full of sass are you? We will see how well that sass serves you when you’ve heard my tale. Now sit.” Loiza did, pulling two coins from her pocket and placing them on the table. “Put that away. I don’t want you money.”
Loiza hesitated then scooped the coins back up. If he didn’t want money it cast a different light on their meeting. She felt a tingle run down her spine as she looked into the black depths of his eyes. “Just tell me then. I need to get back home before I get caught.”
“Look” The man held his hands over the sides of the gazing crystal. A shroud of mist filled the inner depths as his hands trembled, and then images flashed one after another too quickly to ascertain in the candlelight. His eyes closed and Loiza leaned forward, seeking to make sense of the images. She whispered in surprise as she began to recognize things in the balls depths.
Her family, images of the relatives long past, caravans and clans, faces from books burned into her memory. So many pictures flickering through her family’s past and then ones that were newer. She saw herself in the glass, dancing with a man she didn’t know, and then here among the carnival folk. The handsome stranger again with her in so many places, some familiar and some not. Depictions of a life not yet led came to her, appearing through the swirling mist, entrancing Loiza, holding her wide-eyed gaze until she was so enthralled her face was mere inches from the glass ball and her hands were gripping the edge of the table.
Suddenly they vanished as a breeze blew in through the open tent flap and blew out the candles on the table, breaking Loiza’s contact with her future, leaving her and the man in semi darkness, lit only by a hanging oil lamp hung from a peg near the back of the tent.
“Who was he?”
“Ramos Almassy.” Loiza stared at him expectantly and then scrunched her face into a frown.
“That doesn’t tell me anything. I mean who is he to me?”
“Your future.”
“Where will we meet?” Her heart was hammering in her chest. The man had been so dark and mysterious, powerful and handsome.
“That is up to you. Your destinies are fated but he exists only in another place. He is the past and the future of my people. Ageless and forever trapped in a world that comes to meet with this one only once every seven years. Only we can take you to him.”
“That’s impossible.”
“A girl from a magical family is telling me her magical mate is too impossible to exist? Run along then. You have no need to know more.”
Loiza was about to argue, conceding that magic did indeed make things possible, when the wind began to pick up outside and clouds covered the moon which had risen to its highest point in the sky. Shadows fell beyond the tent flap and thunder sounded off in the distance. The sides of the canvas tent began to suck in and out as if they were inside a giant bellows.
“Time to go now. Off with you. We thought the time was right and you were ready, but you are still too much of a child.”
“No I’m not, I’m a woman.”
“A woman would seek out her true love. You…” The wind whipped away his words and it came through the flap and whirled around inside the tent. Loiza stood, her skirts lashing one way and then the other, mystified at the strength of the storm that had arisen. The tent poles creaked and the canvas flap cracked in a gust behind her, making her jump and turn. When she looked back, she was alone in an empty tent. The fortune teller and his trappings gone.
Confused, battling the wind and the flapping canvas, Loiza left the meager shelter. The rain hadn’t come yet but she could smell the ozone in the air that heralded a fierce storm. She would be lucky to make it home before the rains came. She shielded her eyes from the strands of hair that were whipping about in a fury and looked around her to gain her bearing but froze in astonishment. The carnival and all who inhabited it were gone.
A peal of thunder that shook the heavens snapped her out of her stupor and Loiza began to run. Her world was turning upside-down and she wanted nothing more than to be safe in her bed. The bravado that comes with youth had fled, and the sense of the young woman she had become gave wings to her feet as she sought safety.
Trying to retrace her steps, turned around because the landmarks from the carnival had disappeared, Loiza felt tears fill her eyes as she gazed
at the sky, hoping for help from the stars and finding none. The clear night was gone.
Making herself calm down, she searched the horizon for a clump of trees that were familiar and caught sight of the right direction in a flash of lightning. It was all she had needed. Loiza raced across the trampled grass which gave testament to the carnival that had in fact been there, and ran for the meadow she had to cross before entering the woods and the paths that would take her home.
Fleeing as if the devil was on her heels, she tripped on a protruding stone and tumbled to the ground, skirts billowing over her head as she landed hard. She cried out and rose to her hands and knees, flailing at the petticoats that stole her sight. When she managed to tame them and right herself up on her knees, a hand came into view, startling her so badly that she let out a shriek of pure terror.
“Come now, up with you. You’ve nothing to fear from me.”
“I… who? Where did you come from?”
“You mean what am I doing here in a meadow late at night? I might ask you the same thing Loiza.” A bolt of lightning split the sky and two strong hands picked her up under her arms, setting her on her feet so they both could find shelter in the woods as fat raindrops began to fall. Refusing to let go of her hand, Ramos held fast as they ran for the relative safety of the forest, not stopping until they were under a canopy of dense oaks, sheltered by twisting branches so thick they blocked all the rain.
Loiza sought a better look at the man who had appeared out of nowhere, but the world was dark as pitch. He still held her hand and she made no move to pull it away, wonder chasing away common sense. Though she could hardly see him where they now sat, the flash of lighting had revealed the face of the man in the crystal ball. Her future mate.
They sat stone still as the wind howled and the rain beat upon the leaves overhead, and then as suddenly as the storm screamed into the night, it fled, leaving behind a silence that was broken only by their breaths which were not yet quiet from their flight.
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