Sinfully Wicked: Magic and Mayhem Universe

by Teresa Gabelman

  Thorne nodded as he cocked an eyebrow. “Guess I misunderstood the part when you called me a piece of shit too?”

  “What? Hey, are you there?” Bruce rattled off quickly. “Thorne? I think our connection is bad. I’m losing you, bud….” The phone went silent.

  A sinister grin formed across Thorne’s lips as he glanced up at Wicked. “How much do you love that furball?”

  “Depends on the day.” Wicked took her phone back with a shake of her head. “Depends on the day.”

  Chapter 8

  Wicked sat with Monica out on the deck while Thorne made some business phone calls. It was a beautiful evening, cool and crisp, but warm enough to sit outside and enjoy.

  “I can’t believe you have a talking cat,” Monica said, wonder still threading through her words. “A funny one at that.”

  “Oh, he’s a hoot.” Wicked grimaced, then chuckled. “He’s more of a pain in my ass.”

  “Familiar?” Monica asked, curling her legs up underneath her.

  “Yeah, some witches have familiars. I got Bruce.” Wicked sighed. “Though I wouldn’t trade him for the world, but don’t tell him that.”

  “Well, I think it’s pretty cool.” Monica smiled, glancing her way. “I’ve never seen my brother happier.”

  Okay, that sent her stomach rolling in a good way. “I bet he’s had a ton of girls. Tell me, what was a young Thorne like?”

  Looking to make sure they were alone, Monica gave her a sneaky grin. “He was a momma’s boy.” She snickered, her eyes lighting up with the memory. “I swear my dad thought he was going to end up wearing dresses one day, but Thorne was known as a ladies’ man. He loved the ladies.”

  A ping of jealousy settled in her chest. “Any serious relationships?”

  “Not that I can recall, at least while I was around,” Monica said after taking a minute to think. “After our parents died, Thorne changed a little toward me. I guess I got a little resentful and became wild, hanging with the wrong group and definitely the wrong guys. But my brother was always there to pick me up, dust me off, and hold me tight.”

  Wicked sighed, realizing more than ever how lucky she was to have someone like Thorne. She just hoped she didn’t fuck it up like she usually did.

  Monica gave Wicked a serious look. “Treat him well, because witch or not, I will kick your ass if you hurt him.” The last part was said with a growl, and Wicked believed her.

  “Noted.” Wicked gave her a nod. “And I know how lucky I am, and I really hope I don’t screw it up,” she admitted her thoughts aloud.

  “Well, it would take a hell of a lot of screwing up on your part.” She snorted. “All he has done is talk about you, and I really don’t think he realizes it. It’s good to see him this happy for once.”

  They sat in silence, each seeming to be lost in thought. Glancing over at Monica, Wicked realized how much they had in common. “I’m sorry this has happened to you.” Wicked leaned her head back, still looking toward Monica. “I’m always here if you need to talk.”

  “Thank you,” Monica quietly replied as she stared up at the sky. After a moment, she sat straight up. “There is something you could do for me.”

  “I already said name the color.” Wicked chuckled.

  “Oh, I’m keeping that for a different time when I’m present to see his face.” Monica grinned. Stretching, she said, “I want a tattoo. I heard you were the best, and I’ve always wanted one.”

  “So you don’t have any now?” Wicked asked. She always tried to make sure whoever wanted a first-time tattoo was making a wise decision and not a spur of the moment mistake.

  “Nope, but I’m ready for my first,” Monica said with a nod.

  “And what do you want?” Wicked wondered if Thorne would be okay with this. Even though his sister was the same age, he seemed to be very protective over her. Not that Monica needed his permission, but the last thing she wanted to do was be in the middle of a pissed off Thorne.

  “Let me think on that one. It’s permanent, so I want to make it mean something to me.” Monica jumped up and gave Wicked a hug. “Thank you for talking with me. I haven’t had a friend in a long time. I hope I can consider you one.”

  Wicked hugged her back. “Always, and remember, I’m in your corner and here if you need me.”

  Monica gave her a tight squeeze before leaving, then disappeared inside the house. Wicked eased back on the chair and stared up into the clear night sky. Closing her eyes, she smiled. Monica’s words about never seeing Thorne so happy had her heart soaring. She felt the same way. She was so happy it was scary.

  “Hope you’re dreaming about me.” Thorne’s voice broke the silence.

  Opening one eye, she looked up at him. “Always.”

  He sat, then lay back on one of the sun loungers. Stretching his legs out, Thorne crooked his finger at her. “Come over here.” His lowered voice did crazy things to her body. She felt alert and alive. “We have some making up to do.”

  “We do?” She stood, walking toward him.

  “We had our first fight, sort of.” He grinned at her as he took her hands, drawing her closer. “And making up is always fun.”

  “Isn’t that what we did right after I got here?” she teased as she straddled him.

  “Oh, that was only part one.” Thorne pulled her closer. “We’ve got part two, three, and four to get through yet.”

  Wicked chuckled, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Monica was right. You are a ladies’ man.”

  Thorne’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I think that’s an exaggeration from my sister who likes to try me at times.” He reached up and gently touched her face. “And the only lady I want is right before me. Never doubt that, Wicked.”

  For the first time in her life, she felt certain about something other than her tattooing and Bruce. With all of her heart, she believed Thorne was here for the long haul. “I won’t,” she whispered and felt the wetness behind her eyes.

  “Now, before we get this make-up session, part two going, who is the man that laid hands on you?” Thorne asked, surprising Wicked with how quickly his mood changed.

  “It’s the past, Thorne.” Wicked really didn’t want to talk about it. “And I took care of it. I haven’t seen or heard from him in years, and I know for a fact, I never will.”

  Thorne remained silent for a while, just staring at her as if weighing her words. “Know I will never lay a hand on you in anger.” Despite Thorne’s soft tone, there was a firmness, a promise touching each word.

  “I know that,” Wicked whispered, feeling loved and protected by the man underneath her. It felt foreign, but so right. She glanced around and then arced her hand around them. “Now how about letting me show you how sorry I am?” She reached down, grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head.

  She loved the way his eyes roamed over her body, devouring every inch. She had never felt more like a desirable woman than she did in those moments. “Not that I’m complaining, but we’re a little out in the open.” His voice was low and rough.

  “I have a shield around us. No one can see a thing.” She reached back and unhooked her bra. She could easily make her clothes disappear by using her magic, but she loved watching him watch her. She tossed her bra on her shirt.

  Not wanting to climb off him, she did use her magic to relieve them both of the rest of their clothing. “That’s a handy finger you’ve got.” He grinned, taking her hand. After kissing the finger he was talking about, he sucked it into his mouth. “Can’t wait to see what else it can do.”

  Thorne pulled her closer, his mouth latching on to one hardened nipple before moving to the other, sharing the love to both. Wicked moaned, loving the feel of his mouth on her. She felt his cock growing underneath her and ground herself against him, gaining a low moan from him that turned her insides to jelly.

  Pulling her breast from his mouth, she kissed him as she reached between them, grasping him into her hand. He was hard and ready for her. Wit
h a few strokes of her hand and a groan from him, Wicked positioned herself over him and sank down slowly. She didn’t want to wait; she was ready and needed him with a ferocity that surprised her. This time, she took control as she slowly rose and lowered against him, riding him with a loving, confident pace that was driving her crazy.

  Thorne’s large hands flexed on her hips, but he let her keep the control. She began to pick up speed, searching for more from him. It would never be enough with Thorne. Her body and heart would always search for more, and to her, that was not just okay, but instead, it was pure bliss. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t willing to give her his all, but the feelings she had for this man were more than she’d ever bargained for.

  “Watching you ride me is almost more than I can take,” Thorne gritted out, but his eyes remained on her and well, her breasts. “So if you keep playing with these slow moves, I’m going to have to take control and ride you… hard.”

  “Promise.” Her voice was breathless as she reached up and touched one of her sensitive nipples. She gasped when he swelled inside her. His growl sent spirals of desire through her body.

  One minute she was on top, the next, she was underneath him looking up into his eyes that had turned dark with desire. “I never break my promises.”

  Thorne’s grin after he said those words had a little edge of mischief with combined delicious threat that turned her on even more. He pounded into her, and she didn’t miss a beat. Wicked matched him thrust for thrust. His mouth crashed down on hers, and their teeth clinked together, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was finding release with him. They were frenzied in their need to please each other.

  Just as her body was strung so tightly she thought she might explode; he cursed as his head slammed back. The cords in his neck stood out, and his cock buried deeper inside her. Her eyes took in the whole scene of his pleasure, and that was the moment her body let go, meeting his release with as much intensity as the man above her.

  After a few moments lost in bliss, the world came back in focus and their eyes connected. “I love you,” Thorne vowed, still buried deep inside her.

  “I love you,” she repeated, feeling herself tighten around him, causing him to cock his eyebrow.

  “You trying to kill me?” he asked with a smile. He glanced around them. “Damn, I think we broke my favorite lounging chair.”

  Wicked also looked around, noticing they were, in fact, closer to the floor. “I’ll buy you another one.”

  “No.” Thorne shook his head. “I’ll buy a few more. They are the perfect fit for you riding me.” He slowly moved inside her.

  “Again?” This time she cocked her eyebrow at him. “I thought most men need a break in between.”

  “I’m not most men, Wicked.” He picked up his tempo as he growled down at her then nuzzled her neck. “I can’t get enough of you.”

  Chapter 9

  Wicked watched her last client for the day walk out the door. As soon as they disappeared, she yawned. God, she was so tired lately, and she really didn’t feel well.

  “You look like a shit that Fat Bastard did the other night.” Bruce walked past her, giving her a strange look.

  “Why were you looking at Fat Bastard’s shit?” Wicked rubbed her forehead, wondering why she’d even asked. She had no doubt Bruce would have a long, drawn-out story of why.

  “He said it looked like the statue of Poseidon riding a wave.” Bruce snorted. “Which it didn’t. He’s all excited about the Aquaman movie. He thinks all his shits have to do with the underwater world.”

  Yep, she shouldn’t have asked. “I’m going to lock up and head home.” Wicked thought it best not to respond or engage with the shit talk.

  “Can you whip me up some salmon tonight?” Bruce asked. “I’m starving.

  Her stomach rolled at the thought of food, but she nodded. “Sure.”

  Once they got home, Wicked showered real quick and got into some comfy sweats and a hoodie. She piled her long hair up on her head, scrubbed off her makeup, and headed toward the kitchen. An impatient Bruce sat staring at her. “You think you can get to twirling that finger for some food anytime soon?”

  “How about I twirl you on out of here?” Wicked warned with narrowed eyes as she grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

  “I’d just come right back,” Bruce countered then stretched. “Come on, man. I’m getting all shaky and shit.”

  She quickly twirled her finger, and a plate of salmon appeared in front of Bruce. “Hey, where’s my wine.” Bruce pouted then glanced up at Wicked. “Ah, you look a little green.” He didn’t sound too concerned as he studied her.

  Wicked stared at the salmon as if it were still alive and flopping on the plate. She felt a little green and nauseous. Swallowing the large amount of saliva that invaded her mouth, she finally turned away from his plate and walked out of the room. “I’m going to lie down.”

  Heading to her room, she opened the door, closing it behind her. After setting her water down, she curled up on her bed. She hated getting sick. There was nothing worse than feeling like crap. She had noticed how tired she had been lately, but now feeling nauseous, she knew she was coming down with something, and it sucked. She was a big baby when she was ill.

  Remembering her day with Thorne yesterday kept her mind off the rolling of her stomach. She would fight tooth and nail not to puke. Bruce would always tell her to go ahead and puke, promising she’d feel better. Nope, puking made her feel worse.

  When she closed her eyes, her mind played over the events of last night. After being out on the deck, they had headed to Thorne’s bedroom and talked most of the night. Each had taken turns asking questions and talking about their past. She hadn’t brought up the fact she was ready to move in with him. Instead, she was waiting for him to ask her one more time. That way she could surprise him with a definite yes.

  As her stomach settled, she dozed on and off until her bedroom door opened. “I’m fine, Bruce.” She threw her arm over her eyes. “I just need to rest.”

  “And that’s why I’m here.” Thorne’s voice filled her tiny room. “To make sure you do just that.”

  Wicked moved her arm, her eyes focusing on Thorne who stood like a knight in shining armor at the end of her bed. “What are you doing here? I thought you had to go to Cincinnati for the night.”

  “I changed my plans when Bruce called me telling me you were sick.” Thorne walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. He gently placed his hand on her forehead then her cheek. “You don’t feel feverish.”

  She melted a little at his care and the immediate comfort he provided. “He shouldn’t have done that. I’m fine. Just a bug or something.” Wicked frowned, though, not liking that Thorne changed his plans for her. “Please don’t change your business plans because of me.”

  “I would walk through hell for you.” Thorne cupped her chin, his thumb softly rubbing her jawline. “Canceling a business meeting I didn’t want to go to in the first place is no big deal. Now, why don’t you let me make you some soup? Chicken noodle maybe, or tomato.”

  The mention of food, period, made her queasy. Once again, saliva rushed into her mouth, the picture of Bruce’s salmon crossing her mind. Swallowing hard, she shook her head. This time her stomach really revolted. She scrambled off the bed with her hand to her mouth as she raced to the bathroom. Thorne was right behind her.

  Making it to the toilet, she lifted the lid and emptied the contents of her stomach, which wasn’t much. She heaved over and over again, and weakness swept through her. Her legs buckled as she sank to her knees still hovering over the toilet.

  Hearing the faucet running, she tried to glance that way, but another heave hit her hard. A cold washcloth landed on her forehead at the same time Thorne took her weight. The heaving finally slowed to the point where she felt safe to straighten up. Taking the wet cloth from his hand, Wicked ran it over her face and mouth. Leaning against Thorne, she was a little embarrassed that this hot-ass man just wa
tched her not so gracefully vomit, but she felt so shitty she honestly didn’t care at this point.

  “Sexy, huh?” Wicked’s voice croaked as she tried to stand.

  “Honestly, if anyone can make heaving into a toilet sexy, it’s you, Wicked,” Thorne said. His tone sounded so honest that Wicked turned to look at him over her shoulder. A teasing glint filled his eyes. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded as he helped her to the sink where she grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste. Vigorously, she brushed the sour taste out of her mouth, then grabbed the mouthwash and swished it around. “Goddess, I hate to puke.” Wicked did one more dose of mouthwash, then spit it out. As she washed her hands, she glanced at herself. Holy crap, she looked like… well, crap.

  “Not high on my list of fun things either.” Thorne picked her up and carried her back to her room. Bruce sat in the middle of the bed.

  “You good?” he asked Wicked, moving as Thorne laid her down. “That sounded fucking nasty as hell.”

  “I love you too, Bruce,” she said sarcastically. “I’m fine.”

  “Maybe we should call Zelda,” Bruce said as he leaned over, staring into her face.

  “No.” Wicked opened her eyes to see she was face-to-face with Bruce. “Dude, come on. I’m good. Just got a little virus. I just need rest and no mention of food.”

  “So I guess another piece of—”

  “Don’t even say it.” Wicked glared at him in warning. “Or I swear to the Goddess, I will skin you alive.”

  “But I’m hungry, and that was so good.” Bruce jumped out of the way as Wicked swatted at him.

  “Bruce,” Thorne warned with a shake of his head. “I’ll fix you something in a bit. Go on out and let Wicked rest.”

  Wicked glanced at Thorne to thank him, but the words stopped in her throat at the way he was staring at her.

  “Okay, well, hurry up,” Bruce huffed. “That little piece of—”