Hot Spell

by Lisabet Sarai

  He leant forwards so she felt his steaming breath near her ear. “Come for me, Sylvie” he murmured. As he spoke, he pinched her clit and plunged a hot, wet finger into her anus. She shot off into the sky, propelled by a rocket of sensation that burned through her body. Even as she tumbled, battered by pleasure, she felt Aidan stroke and soothe—warm and sweet, hot and fierce—ravaging her cunt, her clit, her ass while she convulsed in another near-unbearable crisis.

  He didn’t stop, though, even as her pussy trembled around him. He continued to fuck her, pounding into her flesh with the force of a hurricane. “Again, baby, again,” he growled, corkscrewing his thumb into her ass while slamming his cock against her cervix. “I want you to light up the sky with your pleasure.”

  Oh God! He asked and how could she refuse? She couldn’t have stopped, even if she wanted to. She was coming again, in an earthquake of sensation that rattled her brain in her skull. The roaring in her ears reminded her of the landslide. His cock worked in and out, and now it felt like a part of her. He’d always be here, fucking her, and she’d always be coming, forever clenching his hardness, bathing him in her juices—under his control and loving every instant.

  Another orgasm hit her like a tsunami. She couldn’t think straight anymore. All she knew was pleasure and Aidan—the feel of him inside her, wrapped around her, kindling her into one crisis after another. Aidan was pleasure—pure pleasure and pure love.

  “You”, she gasped, as the tremors faded. She was amazed that she could speak. “Please, Aidan…”

  That was all she could manage, but he understood. He pulled his fingers out of her anus, leaving her gaping and empty, then seized her hips with an iron grip. His fevered hands branded her flesh, marking her as his. She would have sworn he couldn’t go faster or deeper, but she was wrong. His cock tore into her, three or four thrusts to every breath, slicing into her flesh like a super-heated diamond blade.

  It should have been painful but it was anything but. Every time he filled her, she wanted to sing. The burning that followed his every touch had a frequency that resonated with pleasure, if it wasn’t exactly pleasure itself. She welcomed the heat. It made her swell and bloom, opening to new currents of delight. Still he moved faster, raging through her with the force of a hurricane.

  She felt heat beating against her skin, like the sun had come down to earth. Fragrant smoke filled her nostrils—wood smoke. The scent brought memories of campfires, cosy winter nights by the hearth, sleigh rides—all sweet things that made her smile. Aidan drove his cock deep into her cunt, stirring her to another boil. Her limbs crackled with electricity, sparked by his touch and the feel of him, deep, deep inside her belly.

  Something else crackled. Her eyes stung and teared. She opened them to discover that all around the clearing, the forest was ablaze. The grass surrounding them wilted and browned. Flames sped across the ground and jumped from one tall spruce to the next, until each was a new torch lighting the night. The sky was golden-red like the scales of a Chinese dragon. Still Aidan fucked her, sending tendrils of flame winding through her. She burned, the forest burned, and Aidan pulsed inside her.

  He was close. The smoke grew denser. Her skin was cracking from the heat but Sylvie didn’t mind, not at all. This was her destiny, their destiny—to fuck and to love, to come together and to burn together.

  Aidan howled and slammed against her ass. Inside her, she felt his cock swell, larger and larger still, until she thought she’d burst apart from the pressure. Then he jerked and his boiling cum filled her cavity. It poured out, spilling down her thighs, leaving stinging, burned flesh in its wake. “Sylvie!” he yelled and more liquid forced its way into her, searing her soul.

  The grass around them burst into flames. The trees crashed as they were consumed, like local thunder. Lightning tore through the sky, even brighter than the forest fire. Sylvie felt herself melting, consumed from the inside out, as Aidan’s fiery jism ate its way into her vitals. Now we’re truly one, she thought with a secret smile, as pleasure flared and swept her into its heart. Now and forever.

  The world grew brighter and brighter, until she couldn’t keep her eyes open. “Aidan,” she called and felt him grasp her hand, even as flames ran over their joined flesh. He was there as the flames reached crescendo, the fire-whipped wind howling through the charring branches. He was there as she sank into a warm pool of sweet darkness.

  * * * *

  Wetness on Sylvie’s cheeks—cool and fresh. A gentle rain fell upon her face, drawing the residual heat from her scorched skin. The smell of ashes hung in the air. She opened her eyes. Skeleton trees rose around them, desolate spectres looming stark and silent in a heavy fog. The verdant forest that had so delighted her was gone. Everything was black or grey—even her own flesh. Still, it seemed she was alive.

  Aidan was there. She had known he would be. But he was motionless, his soot-streaked face static, his eyes closed, his lips parted. Was he breathing? His chest did not seem to be moving. Oh God! Had their coupling left her alive but killed him? What a cruel irony!

  She couldn’t bear the thought of life without him, not for an instant. Frantic, she peered into the mist, looking for her clothes. She’d had a jack-knife, tucked into her pocket. That would do the job…

  “Sylvie…”

  The voice was weak, racked with pain. Aidan barely managed to gasp out the single word.

  “Aidan! You’re alive!”

  “Maybe.” He sucked in a deep breath and fell into a ragged fit of coughing. “Guess I must be. But you— you’re alive!” He propped himself up on his elbow to stare at her in disbelief. “I didn’t kill you…”

  “If you had, it would have been worth it—to be so close to you.” She leant down to plant a gentle kiss on his heat-cracked lips. “But it seems we both survived. Unlike the forest…”

  Tears stung her eyes as she surveyed the devastation. The moon had set but dawn was approaching. The pearly grey light revealed nothing but blackened stumps and smoking heaps of rubble.

  “Never mind,” said Aidan, drawing her down until her head lay on his shoulder. He tugged lightly at her hair, working out the tangles. His rain-slicked skin felt uncharacteristically cool. “We’re alive and together. That’s all that matters. The forest will regenerate, eventually. Meanwhile, you and I—do you realise what this means? We don’t have to fight it anymore. We can make love, Sylvie…” Another coughing bout interrupted him. “Though maybe not that often…” He grinned and kissed her, a deep, satisfying kiss that quenched her thirst and rekindled the ache in her sex.

  She let her fingers wander down his chest, drawing wavy lines in the coating of ash. He moulded her breasts, circled her navel, then trailed his fingertips across her belly and along the inside of her thighs. Juice from her pussy mingled with the raindrops. His soot-covered cock grew engorged as he teased her, rearing up from his groin like a fat black sausage. He slipped a finger between her lower lips, circling her eager clit. She shut her eyes, to better appreciate the intense sensations. Meanwhile, something brushed against her buttocks—light, maddening, barely there—dancing across her cheeks and then insinuating itself into her crevice.

  “That tickles!” she protested.

  “What?” Aidan probed deeper into her sex. “This?”

  “No, no—what you’re doing to my ass…”

  “But I’m not doing anything…”

  Another delicate touch, climbing up her hip. Sylvie opened her eyes and gasped in wonder.

  A strand of some vine coiled up from behind her, brilliant green against her sooty skin. As she watched, it slithered across her flesh, sending out new shoots, bursting into clusters of emerald leaves as it travelled along her limbs. It twined around her hips, sending runners into the thicket of her sex, cascading down her belly to encircle the pillar of Aidan’s cock. Moment by moment, the delicate strands crept over their flesh, binding them together in fragile, living chains.

  “What the heck…?” Aidan looked alarmed. />
  “It’s all right,” said Sylvie, wonder in her voice. “They won’t hurt us. Look! It’s happening everywhere.”

  Indeed, the crawlers were sprouting from the soil all over the clearing, turning the blackened ground green once more. The strands wound their way around the charred remains of the trees, spiralling to the tops to explode into verdant foliage.

  The light grew as sunrise neared. The rain stopped. The mist glowed around them, as though they were in the heart of an emerald.

  “The earth. She’s healing herself.” Sylvie felt a deep sense of reverence.

  “No,” Aidan replied, sitting up to survey the marvels around them. “I think it’s you. You’re healing the earth.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Remember what I told you? About Elementals? Not just fire? I believe that you’re an Earth Elemental, Sylvie. You can control the earth and summon growing things.”

  “That’s crazy!” Sylvie shook her head. “It can’t be.”

  “But it would explain so much, my love.” He grasped her hands, sending the usual thrill up her spine. “That’s why our coupling didn’t kill you. You’ve got powers, as I do. Powers you’re not aware of.”

  Sylvie suddenly remembered the landslide—the peace that had come over her and then the peculiar way the earth had simply stopped moving. Had she done that?

  “I’ve watched you, moving through the forest. You’re at home in nature, in a way that I’ve never seen in another woman. You belong in the forest, in the fields, on the mountaintops. I’ll bet that you hate living in the city.”

  “You’re right. It’s torture. I can hardly stand it. But an Elemental? Some kind of god? What would it mean?”

  “For one thing, it means the two of you can be lovers—mates.” The voice was low and musical, like a river laughing over polished stone. Aidan and Sylvie turned to see two figures emerging from the mist.

  One was female, tall and willow-slender, with a complexion like moonlight and silvery hair that fell to below her waist in a shimmering cascade. The other was male, stocky and powerful, with skin like ebony and a wild, wiry, inky cloud haloing his skull. Both were naked. Both shone with an unearthly beauty.

  “I am Ondine,” said the woman, answering Sylvie’s unspoken question. “And this is Marut. We were called by your coupling.”

  “You’re Elementals, too.” Aidan rose, brushing off the twining lianas, and helped Sylvie to her feet. There was no question in his voice.

  “Of water and air,” said Marut, stretching out his arms. A warm wind rustled the new foliage cloaking the burned-out clearing. Sylvie felt a stir of lust, mingling with her wonder. Her guilt didn’t quite manage to suppress her desire.

  “We’ve been waiting for you—to complete the square, the four-way connection. Without all four elements, the world is unbalanced.” Ondine twirled on her toes, her fingers rippling, and the new leaves shed raindrops on them all. She held out her hand to Aidan. “Come, my lord of fire.”

  Her lover took a step forwards. A stab of jealousy made Sylvie reel. His penis was rock hard.

  “Fear not, earth lady.” Marut’s voice rumbled like thunder. He stroked her bare shoulder. Her sex fluttered in some invisible breeze. “No one is going to steal your mate. He is yours, as Ondine is mine.”

  “But nature requires our four-way connection.” Ondine’s laugh was like crystal bells. She gave her other hand to Sylvie, who blushed as her private wetness gathered and overflowed. “Don’t worry, my sweet. Neither you nor your handsome fire starter will find the duty onerous.”

  Sylvie sought Aidan’s eyes. He was gazing at her—not at the exquisite Water Elemental. Though he wasn’t touching her, the heat still flared. I’ll always be with you, his eyes told her. Forever.

  The sun climbed above the peaks, burning off the last traces of fog. The lush new foliage gleamed, moist and fragrant. The other three Elementals waited, watching her, their faces shining with admiration and love. Love.

  Sylvie filled her lungs with the sweet mountain air. Joy swelled in her chest. She reached for Aidan’s hand.

  “Let’s go.”

  Coming Soon from Total-E-Bound Publishing:

  Wild About That Thing

  Lisabet Sarai

  Released 28 th November 2011

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  Ruby could feel it in her bones. It was going to be a good night. Only ten thirty, but most of the tables clustered ‘round the stage were full. Lori had already lugged two extra cases of Heineken—tonight’s beer special—up from the basement, and from the looks of the empties accumulating in front the customers, they were going fast. The bartender caught Ruby’s eye and gave her a thumbs up. Everything under control.

  Up front, the Night Travellers hit a dark groove, wailing through Born Under a Bad Sign. Zeke’s fingers flew over the strings, improvising a high riff, while Jojo’s bass kept the song grounded. “If it wasn’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all,” Zeke growled, torturing his guitar to match the pain in his voice. Damn, but the man sounded black, despite the mop of straw-coloured hair he kept pushing out of his eyes. Born in Mississippi, he must’ve soaked up blues in the water and the air. Certainly he could play with the best. Ruby was lucky to have him and his band, given the pittance she could afford to pay them.

  As if he sensed her attention, Zeke picked her out of the shadows at the back of the club. She felt the warmth of the smile he beamed to her, a smile totally at odds with the desperate mood of the song. You know why Zeke plays here, her inner critic commented. You’re just taking advantage of him.

  He gets what he wants, she argued with the internal voice that sounded so very much like her mother’s. I treat him fine. Of course, she got as much out of their relationship as he did. Zeke was a strong man with powerful desires. He could set her on fire. It wasn’t her fault that he was so sentimental. You wouldn’t expect it from a rough and tumble guy like Zeke Chambers—ten years a New York cabbie, a guy who’d seen every horror the city could dish out.

  Her phone vibrated in her jeans pocket, interrupting her train of thought.

  “Hey, hon. What’s up? You should be in bed.”

  “I’m going, Mama. I just want to finish this chapter…”

  “Isaiah Jones, it’s nearly eleven and tomorrow’s a school night! You shut your light off right now!”

  “Okay, okay, Mama! But don’t forget about your meeting tomorrow with Ms Rodriguez.”

  “Oh, right.” Ruby sighed. Isaiah’s grades were good but he was so small that he tended to get bullied. She needed to put a stop to that, somehow. “Thanks, hon. Three thirty, right?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “I’ll be there, don’t worry. Then we’ll walk back home together. Maybe stop for a banana split.”

  “Yum!”

  “But only if you go to bed right now, you understand? I don’t want to have to come upstairs and make you!”

  “Of course. Good night, Mama.”

  “’Night, sweetie. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.” Ruby fought against the wave of guilt that threatened to swamp her. Sure, it would be better if she could awaken with her son, make him breakfast and see him off to school like a “normal” mom. But the club kept her up until three a.m. most nights.

  Isaiah understood. She’d tried staying up until after he’d left, but he had seen how wiped out that made her. He insisted she needed her sleep. At thirteen, he didn’t have any problem dressing and feeding himself—heck, he’d been doing it for the past two years, ever since she’d opened the Crossroads Blues Bar. He knew the club was her dream—the dream that had kept her alive after his bastard father took off with his leggy hygienist.

  And the bar was finally starting to take off. Just last week, Time Out had published a feature about Crossroads. “A bit of Chicago or the Delta transplanted to Fourteenth Street,” the reviewer had raved. That glowing memory almost balanced the effects of the letter she’d received this afternoon.
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  The crowd erupted into claps and whistles as the Travellers finished their number. “Thank you kindly, ladies and gentlemen.” A decade in New York hadn’t erased the softness of the South from Zeke’s speech. “Welcome to our first open mic night here at the Crossroads. Hope you brought your axe, your sax or your harp—if you didn’t, well, hell, you can borrow ours! Everybody gets the blues sometimes. This is the place to let it all out!”

  Fresh applause greeted Zeke’s invitation. He stood up there on the platform—his hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans jacket, his axe hanging around his neck—and grinned like the country boy he used to be. At six-foot-one, with the solid build of a halfback, Zeke was an imposing figure. He’d broken up more than one drunken brawl for her over the past two years and he had a temper that could be scary. To Ruby and Isaiah, though, he’d been nothing but kind. Whatever success the Crossroads could claim was largely due to him.

  “To kick things off tonight, I want to invite a very special lady to join us here on stage. She’s been through some hard times, friends, and she knows the blues. It’s in her blood, passed on from her daddy, Jimmy ‘The Harp’ Jones. When she sings, she spills her soul. Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for Ruby Jones, the lovely owner of the Crossroads Blues Bar!”

  Applause filled the club. Zeke’s invitation hadn’t been a surprise. They’d discussed having her warm up the crowd, and of course, she’d been performing since she was a kid. Nevertheless, his effusive introduction made her feel self-conscious. Ruby wished she’d worn something a bit more glamorous than her usual jeans and tailored shirt.

  She picked her way between the tables, headed for the stage. Zeke held out a big hand. When she grasped it, he swung her onto the platform, and quite neatly, into his arms. The crowd roared.

  Zeke brushed his lips across hers. His distinctive scent engulfed her—clean sweat, Jim Beam and Ivory Soap. It was like turning on a movie—she instantly remembered the last time he’d been inside her. His blond stubble grazed her cheek. She saw him in her mind’s eye—body suspended above hers on powerful arms as he buried his cock in her pussy, fucking her with a smooth, steady rhythm while he scanned her face, focussed on her pleasure. She felt again the way he stretched and filled her. The seam of her jeans teased her suddenly swollen clit. She wondered if Zeke could smell her growing dampness. Hell, what about the rest of the band?