Big Witch Energy

by Kelly Jamieson

  “You weren’t lying when you said you were a shit disturber in your younger years,” Romy murmurs.

  “I’m trying to forget those days,” I mutter. I shoot daggers at my buddy. “Thanks a lot. I guess those enlargement pills are working for you.”

  Garrett frowns. “What?”

  “You’re twice the dick you were last week,” I finish.

  Julie and Romy collapse in laughter. Garrett flicks me a middle finger. “Careful. I can curse you. May every empty parking spot you see in the distance actually contain a motorcycle.”

  “May your next-door neighbor buy a set of bagpipes and practice every night until four in the morning.”

  “May you hit every red light.”

  Trace winces. “Ouch. That one hurts.”

  “I know.”

  “May you spill your drink in your lap so it looks like you peed yourself.”

  “Ha! He actually did that to me!” Garrett points at me. “And he made it happen right before every date I had!”

  “And this is the man I want to have children with,” Julie says with an amused eye roll.

  “We really are more mature now, Romy,” Garrett says. “Don’t be afraid.”

  Her eyes twinkle. “I’m not afraid.”

  I reach for her hand under the table and give it a squeeze. “I might as well have brought the whole gang,” I say. “For how much shit you’re giving me. I thought it would be better without Miles.”

  “It is,” Garrett says.

  I can tell he’s joking. Hopefully Romy can. We all love Miles, odd as he is.

  “Can’t wait to meet him,” Romy says.

  Our dinners arrive, and I make it through our meal without any more tales of my youthful escapades. After we eat, Romy and Julie leave together to use the ladies’ room.

  “That’s how chicks bond,” Garrett says. “They go to the bathroom together.”

  I grin. There may be truth to it.

  “She’s great, man,” Garrett continues. “And you’re nuts about her.”

  I rub my temple. Again, there may be truth to that. “I like her.”

  Garrett smirks. “This is fun.”

  I frown. “What is?”

  “Watching you get all boo’d up.”

  I roll my eyes. “That’s not what this is. I think. I don’t know.”

  Garrett’s still laughing when the women return.

  “What’s so funny?” Julie asks, sliding into the booth.

  “Trace just told me a joke. But it’s totally inappropriate, so I won’t repeat it out of respect for you ladies.”

  Julie snorts. “Sure.”

  Garrett can be a dickwad, but he’s a good friend. I meet his eyes briefly, and he nods.

  Yeah, I’m a little addled about me and Romy. We just met each other’s friends, which is a very couple thing to do. Notwithstanding the embarrassing stories, it went great. She’s great. And I’m an idiot because I can’t shake a foreboding feeling that things could get epically fucked up.

  20

  Romy

  “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

  I stare at the letter in my hands. The Board of Elders has changed the requirements for me to pass my WED exam. They’ve made it harder.

  “This is nuts.” I look up at Trace, who’s at my place. We met after work for dinner and came back here.

  “Let me see.” He reaches for the letter, and I hand it over.

  “Argh.” I shove my hands into my hair and sit on the couch.

  “Huh.” He looks up. “I’ve never seen this.”

  “It’s me. They hate me.”

  “No, they don’t.” He drops the paper on my coffee table. “You could appeal this.”

  “Really?” I straighten.

  “You could. But I think it would be a waste of time.”

  “Oh for the love of dogs. What do I do then?”

  “Keep studying.” He smiles and pulls me closer against him. I shift and snuggle in, peering up at him. “I’ll help you.”

  I drop my forehead against his chest. His big, strong, protective chest. “I’m sick of studying. And I’m sure you’re sick of it too.” I’ve been working so hard, feeling the pressure of the deadline I have.

  “No, I’m not.” He smooths a hand over my hair and down my back. “You’ve been busting your butt. Your cute butt. I’m sorry.”

  I sigh. I’m skeptical of his denial. This has to be a huge pain in the ass for him. Not for the first time I question whether this is worth it. But if I don’t keep studying, I might not get to see Trace as much. Also, I freakin’ hate it when people doubt me. “I’m going to go to the board again. I want to apologize and explain more.” I hesitate to tell Trace about the other women who are coming with me. I appreciate that they’re with me, but I have a feeling Trace might not like it. It’s turning into a bigger thing than I ever anticipated. There’ve been all kinds of posts in the Facebook group about it. So many are enraged about this. “I can ask them to reconsider this.”

  His eyebrows fly up. “Okay.”

  “I can do it.”

  “I know you can.”

  “Thank you for your confidence. And for helping me.” I lift my head. “I couldn’t do this without you.”

  His eyes soften. “Sure, you could. There are others who could tutor you. And you’re learning lots from Joe too.”

  “I know I wasn’t very receptive at first, but you stuck it out.”

  “Only because you have a cute ass.”

  “Ah!”

  He laughs. “So hey… if you’re feeling down… I can feel you up.” His hand drops to my butt and squeezes.

  I respond instantly, my belly doing a flip. “Mmm… that might help.”

  “By the way, your boobs are perfect too.”

  I huff out a laugh. “Thank you.”

  “I’ve heard that when your girl has a rough day, you should give her a rough night.” He kisses my jaw.

  “I like it rough,” I whisper, my head falling back.

  He sucks the skin of my throat into his mouth. “Yeah? I can be rough with you…” He kisses my neck. “In so many sweet ways.”

  “That sounds perfect…”

  Grabbing my ass in both hands, he stands, lifting me with him. I wrap my legs around his waist as he strides to the bedroom. He comes down onto the bed with me, his weight pressing me into the mattress, and kisses me. His mouth is hard, demanding, hot… His tongue sweeps inside my mouth, and I slide mine along it and suck on it.

  He breaks the kiss. “Witch,” he rasps.

  I start to smile, but he kisses me again, rougher, then yanks my shirt open. Buttons pop and he drags the cup of my lace bra down to grip my breast. Straddling me, he shifts down and bites the curve of my flesh, not hard but sending erotic heat spiraling through me. He nips and licks all around my tit, then sucks hard on the nipple.

  A groan rises in my throat.

  He yanks my shirt from the waistband of my skirt and unbuttons it while he sucks one nipple, then the other, shoves it back off my shoulders and down, trapping my upper arms. Then he flips me over onto my belly. My hair falls in my face, and I gasp as he wrestles down the back zip of my skirt and pushes it down my legs. He grips my ass again in a hard squeeze, throwing a leg back over me.

  Lust slams through me.

  He bends and kisses my butt cheek, grazing it with his teeth, then sliding his tongue over it.

  “Oh God.” I pant as heat builds hotter inside me.

  “Such a pretty ass.” He gives me a little swat. “So round and perfect.”

  He climbs up on me again, fisting his hand in my hair and tugging my head up. I gasp again as he wraps an arm around my throat, giving me his weight. I’m helpless but also powerful, needy and consumed by desire, but also giving because I know what he needs—control. Acceptance. And most importantly, trust. I trust him.

  He rolls to his side, bringing me with him, my ass pressed to his groin where his cock bulges behind the fly of his jeans
. One arm still under my shoulders, his other hand slides into my panties and squeezes my pussy. “There. Hot. Wet.”

  I’m aching and throbbing, and the heavy touch is what I need. “Yes… yes.”

  His fingertips find my clit and pinch and rub it vigorously. He kisses me, wet, sloppy, crude kisses while I gulp for air. I’m full of sensation, sharp and biting, soft and sleek. I’m hungry and wild and bold.

  I’m so close to coming when he moves away. He turns me onto my back and moves between my legs, opens his zipper, and pulls out his cock. It’s swollen, the crown smooth and shiny with pre-cum. He gives himself a rough stroke. “You want this?”

  “Yes.” I’m trembling, so excited I almost can’t bear it. “Please. Give it to me. Give it to me hard.”

  “Oh yeah.” His jeans sag around his lean hips, and he curls his fingers beneath the string of my thong and yanks. The panties rip and heat flashes through my veins. His sexual power enthralls me, captivating me.

  He pushes my legs up and back until my pussy is in the air. On his knees, he leans down and shoves his face into my wet folds. His tongue prods; his lips suck on tender flesh. Desire pools right there, between my legs, my pussy throbbing.

  “You taste amazing,” he growls. With hard hands, he parts me, then pushes two fingers inside me, plunging them in and out. He groans and returns his mouth there, fingers finding my clit again.

  I grip the duvet cover, my head tossing, sensations crashing inside me, smashing and slamming.

  He straightens, his T-shirt now gone, then grabs me and flips me yet again, now onto my front. My bra is gone. He pushes me down to the mattress with a big hand on my back, blazes a string of kisses up the middle of my back, nips at my shoulder, then growls, “Turn over.”

  I roll, looking up at him. His eyes flash as he strokes my hair back, then cups my throat. “Gorgeous. Such a gorgeous girl.”

  My eyelids flutter, and the moment of tenderness passes as he falls upon my breasts again, pulling a nipple into his mouth and tugging on it, then the other. He cups them, holds them to his mouth, and uses his teeth until I’m throbbing and writhing.

  Now his jeans are gone and he’s completely naked. He crawls until he’s over my chest and his cock is right at my mouth. He takes it in hand and rubs it over my lips. His eyes meet mine, and despite his aggression I see the question there.

  In answer, I open my mouth and slide my tongue over the tight tip of his cock.

  “Fuck yeah.” Knees beside my head, he pushes into my mouth.

  I love the feel of it, the thickness, the texture of his skin. He tastes salty and tangy, and I suck hungrily. Bouncing his knees on the mattress, he thrusts in and out, not deep enough to choke me but enough that he bumps the back of my throat. My eyes water and he slides out.

  “Okay, sweet thing?” He smooths hair off my damp forehead.

  “Yes. I love it.”

  He lifts his cock and rubs his balls over my lips. I open for them too, licking then sucking one inside.

  “Oh Jesus. Yes. Romy…”

  I bend my legs, squeezing my thighs together at the growing ache there.

  He fucks my mouth again, his hands on his groin, watching himself slide in and out of my mouth, his lips parted, eyes glittering. He’s like a god poised above me, his body sculpted. A thin trail of hair travels down to the thicker patch of dark curls above his cock, and I reach out to touch him there, fingertips brushing through the hair.

  “Fuck. I need to fuck you.” He pulls out and lurches back, grabbing my calves to jerk my legs apart. I let my knees fall open as he grasps his thick shaft and rubs it over me.

  “Condom,” I gasp.

  He closes his eyes. “Shit. Yeah. Sorry.” Instantly he’s sheathed and pushing inside me, stretching me, filling me. “Yeah.” The word comes out on a low groan. “Fuck yeah. You feel so good, Romy.”

  “You feel good too.”

  He leans over me and grasps my face in two hands, staring into my eyes. “Squeeze me… like that.”

  I work my inner muscles and he hisses.

  His mouth lands on mine, brutal, raw kisses, his tongue plunging into my mouth as his cock drives into me. Then he pushes back onto his knees, watching my face. I cup my breasts and his face tightens, then I reach for my clit. “I need to come.”

  “Yeah. Do it.” He moves faster, harder, the mattress now frenzied.

  My finger rubs in tight circles, my breath catches in my chest as flames lick over me, pleasure coiling, intensifying into bright, sharp, violent bliss.

  And he comes too, holding my thighs, his head going back, his face strained, his muscles taut. We’re both gasping for air.

  His chest heaves and he opens his eyes. They blaze down at me. “Holy fuck.”

  “Well, I don’t know if there was anything holy about it.”

  He chokes on a laugh. “Jesus. You make me laugh.”

  I smile and reach for his hair as he leans over me.

  “Feel better?” He kisses my mouth, this time soft and sweet.

  “Oh yeah.” I sigh. “Sometimes all you need is a fantastic fuck.”

  Laughing, he falls to his side next to me, pulling my leg over his hip so we’re still joined. “Can’t argue with that.”

  Joe and I have lunch on Wednesday at the usual restaurant we go to.

  “I’m sorry about the interview,” I tell him.

  “Don’t apologize,” he says, same as Trace. “It’ll be fine.”

  “I’m not so sure.” But I straighten my shoulders and flash a smile. “But I’m working on it.”

  “I still can’t believe they increased the requirements for your WED.”

  “I know. To be honest, it pisses me off. That’s not fair. Everyone should be treated the same.”

  Joe gives me a thoughtful look. “Yeah. I agree.”

  “Trace said I could appeal it, but I likely wouldn’t win. Maybe I should do it just on principle.” I pause. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know. It could make things worse.”

  “Somebody has to take a stand. Nothing will ever change if nobody speaks up.”

  “I didn’t realize the coven was so resistant to change,” he says slowly. “I feel I haven’t been paying enough attention.”

  Just like Felise and Magan.

  “Well, it’s not your fault.”

  “No, I know. But I should be more engaged with what’s happening. Anyway.” He smiles. “How’s work going?”

  “Eh.” I scrunch my face up. “Okay.”

  “That doesn’t sound great.”

  I tell him some of the problems I’ve been encountering and how I haven’t felt supported by my boss. “I just haven’t been getting a lot of satisfaction from things lately,” I finish.

  “Hmm. I’ve actually had an idea I wanted to talk to you about at some point.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I saw the work you did for the girls. For the Charming Chalice. They tell me their online sales have really picked up and a lot of customers are coming in and mentioning the website. I’d like to hire you to work at Dream Homes.”

  My jaw nearly smacks the white tablecloth. “What?”

  “To work on our website. Redesign it and make it more functional. And basically all our branding.”

  I stare at him. “I’d love to do that. But I don’t have time. What with all this studying and my regular job and my Etsy job and my volunteer work at the gallery… I don’t think I can fit it in.”

  “I’m talking about this being a full-time job. You could quit your job at Summit Insurance.”

  My head jerks back. “Whoa.”

  “Yeah. We can afford to pay you good money. We have benefits. I know your plate is pretty full right now, so we could be flexible to give you more time to study.” His eyes search my face, and the concerned-dad look in them makes my heart soften.

  “That would be a really big move,” I say slowly.

  “It would. But it could be a good move.”
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br />   I nod, but my face must look doubtful.

  “What do you like about your job?”

  I consider that. “I enjoy solving problems. Coming up with solutions that help people accomplish their goals. At Summit, it’s other departments.”

  “You would have that at Dream Homes. And you’d have more time for your Etsy shop.”

  That’s the way to persuade me. I love the design work I do. And I do want to paint more. “Can I think about it?”

  “Of course. No rush.”

  “Thank you.”

  Wow. That is definitely something to think about.

  When I started this crazy journey to find my family, I was dissatisfied with my life. I wanted more. Needed more. I took a big leap outside my comfort zone and found my family and more than I ever bargained for. Now the idea of leaving my job both excites me and scares the crap out of me. I’ve come a long way, and maybe I should rely on my instincts, which I’ve learned are pretty damn good. But my cautious background is still waving at me not to take another reckless jump.

  I haven’t told Trace I love him yet. I want to, but I’m terrified he won’t say it back. I know he cares about me. We’ve been having so much fun together—going to a wine festival, the beach, biking, walking with Cheddar, and just hanging (and banging) at my place or his. I’ve even helped him with the work he’s doing on his house. I know nothing about construction or renovations, but I can paint and hold things in place while he uses his, ahem, big tools. Watching him work is like porn, honestly. He’s so strong and competent; it turns me on. He doesn’t complain when I attack him.

  I did some research into love spells. There isn’t a hard rule against them, but they are considered questionably ethical. I struggle with my conscience a little, worried that without some magical help, Trace will never allow himself to have a relationship with me.

  But I can’t do it. If Trace doesn’t love me because of me, I’m not going to do something unethical to make him. I’m worth more than that.

  On the weekend, we go to an art festival in Old Town. The street is closed down with tents set up for eating and drinking and music. Other tents display art from various vendors. We check out all kinds of paintings, sculptures, and photographs, eat hot dogs and corn on the cob, and drink beer. At seven thirty we gather with the crowd to listen to the band, dancing along to the music.