by Kiki Howell
Praise for Kiki Howell
"There is a fine mixture of passion of the paranormal type as well as the romantic type that should satisfy a broad range of readers. Kiki Howell has found her niche."
— Grady Harp, Amazon Hall of Fame Reviewer about Hidden Salem
"Kiki Howell spins a tale that will bewitch your heart and leave you wanting more."
— Misty Rayburn - Top Shelf Book Reviews about Hidden Salem
Praise for Kiki Howell
"You are taken on an adventure that would appease any adrenaline junky."
— Crystal, Romancing the Book on Hidden Salem
"Kiki Howell spins a wonderful tale of passion, magic, betrayal, and a love that conquers all."
— NY Times Bestselling Author, Hannah Howell about Torn Asunder
Praise for Kiki Howell
"I think this is the most romantic novel I've ever read! True love cannot and should not be stopped because of physical differences between two people."
— 5 Howls by Emi at Bitten by Paranormal Romance about A War in the Willows Trilogy
"Ms. Howell's novella…sang to me. It will to you too."
— Justine, eBook Addict Reviews about The Sorcerer's Songs
Praise for Kiki Howell
"Kiki's use of words and descriptions is indescribable and weaves a kind of magic around the reader."
— Melissa, ParaNormal Romance Reviews about The Healing Spell
Sacred Sex
Second Edition 2018
Copyright ©2013 Kiki Howell
Published by: Naughty Nights Press
http://naughtynightspress.com/
Cover Design by Willsin Rowe
Photography Credit: Jimmy Thomas
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.
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Table of Contents
About
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
A Taste From Whiskey & Witchcraft
Chapter One
About The Author
Where to find more from Kiki Howell
Also by Kiki Howell
About
What would you do to bring the spice back into your relationship?
Would you be willing to use magick to seduce your significant other?
Just a few days before Valentine’s Day, Margaret visits her aunt’s craft consignment shop hoping for a spell or oil, and any advice on how to re-connect with her husband, Michael, who has become distant since losing his job.
Determined to save her marriage, she gets more than she bargained for from Aunt Minny, a practicing witch. Armed with recipes to enhance love, a massage oil love potion, a new Valentine’s Day candle, and a book on Sacred Sex Rituals, Margaret prepares to seduce her husband.
But, his initial reaction is not what she planned for…
Follow Margaret and Michael on a holiday of love journey, a throwback to the kinky pagan sex rituals once practiced long ago on this day before it was named after a saint.
You may want to take notes to enhance your own Valentine's Day this year!
Chapter One
Walking in the door felt like being hugged by an energy field of creativity and friendship. The Heart of the Craft was her aunt Minny’s consignment shop. The play on words amused her to no end. Yes, it was a craft shop, but also her aunt was a practicing Wiccan, so supplies for rituals and spells could be purchased there as well. Of course, some people just thought that those displays in the store were year-round Halloween displays, but sometimes people see what they want to see.
Margaret walked in circles as she came in. Smiling at her aunt, who was helping a customer, she took in all of the Valentine’s crafts up front given the holiday of love was only two days away. The red, white and pink were almost too much for one’s senses to take in, existing together in so many shades.
An artificial Christmas tree by the checkout counter, with red and white lights currently, held small seasonal items. She fingered a crocheted heart with a long drawn out sigh before thinking to look to see if anyone was around. She wouldn’t want her current bad mood, something that really irritated her to be plagued by in the first place, to soil anyone else’s enjoyment of the holiday. Bright, fuzzy pink and red hearts should make people smile, at least on some level.
Aunt Minny finally made it to the front and offered a big hug. Margaret let herself get lost in how huge it felt, despite the woman’s small size. Minny’s real name was actually Elizabeth, but being so petite a woman, from childhood Lizzy had become Minny.
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit today, my dear?” her aunt said, arranging a display of candles decorated with hearts.
“Just wanted out of the house, I guess. Oh, grab me the big candle there. I just love that one. Those metal hearts stuck into the wax are so rustic against the decoupaged candle.”
“Sure. You know I love it.” Minny smiled at the candle, holding it up to the light, looking it over. She always was a stickler for details. Made her a great crafter.
“Yes, I guessed as much, since it made it to the coveted special table.” There was always a round table by the tree that was reserved for the shop items her aunt loved the most that week. It actually had a sign on it, which read, Minny’s Favorites.
“Put me down for one of these too,” Margaret huffed, pulling a bag of chocolates off the tree, opening it and popping one in her mouth. They were over-sized chocolate representations of the candy conversation hearts everywhere at this time of year. She hadn’t bothered to read what it had to say before chomping on it though. What the goddess did it matter anyway, this year, she thought.
“Something is wrong. Tell Aunt Minny,” the older woman said, pointing at a folding chair inside the squared counter area. Cashier stations were at opposing corners, leaving the other two counters for craft work when the store got slow.
“It is just this holiday. Not in the mood, I guess,” Margaret replied, placing three chocolates into her mouth at once.
“Really? You usually love it… like you love all of them,” Minny said, her hand waving in the air as if images of them all were there behind her head. “By the way, wh
at did your chocolates say?”
“Very funny.”
“I guess. But this is so unlike you. Something must be going on with Michael. You guys have a fight?”
“No. I almost wish. Ever since he lost his job, even though he got a great severance package, he has not been himself. At all! He is just obsessed with finding a new one. He is never home. When he is, he is so quiet. I don’t even know if he even realizes I still share the house with him some days anymore. And just because I have noticed that things with him, and thus us, are different, doesn’t mean I have the first clue how to approach him about it without making him feel even worse than he already does. I will not pretend to understand the mind of a nearing middle-aged man who is suddenly without his job of twenty years. The distance is just giving my brain enough free time, I guess, to start creating those anxieties, those nagging worries which create every possible situation in your mind about what he could be doing, who he might be seeing—”
“Breathe, dear. I get it. Relationships are hard, and with a big change in life, sometimes even harder than that. You know there is no sure-fire cure—you can’t just wiggle your nose and make everything better—but a few magical nudges never hurt. Marriages take work. And when one is hurting, the other must work harder.”
“I knew you would understand. So, then, you have got some kind of spell to recommend? I was hoping you would have some love potion all mixed up to re-kindle an old love. Even the kids have dates for the evening.” She would forever call them kids, but Melissa and Matthew were both teenagers now, pretty consumed with their own lives as kids their age are.
“So, you are saying you have the house to yourself?”
“Yes, for a good chunk of the evening.”
“Well then, I will see you a spell and a potion then raise you some instruction in Sacred Sex.” The woman, despite her nearing-seventy years of age, giggled like a schoolgirl.
“Ack, please, spare me,” Margaret teased, but she was used to her Aunt never ceasing to surprise her. “Seriously? Can’t I just buy the potion and the candle?”
“Now, come on! I know a few things about sex, my dear. I am old, not dead, and I have wonderful memories.”
“You know that the thing about memories is… well, forget it, just spare me the details, will you? Please!”
“Sure, deary! But you know as well as I do that this holiday has little to do with some patron saint and more to do with kinky pagan sex rituals. I have told you the stories of the Eve of Lupercalia.”
“Yes, you have. Many times.” She had been told since she was almost old enough to hear it about the pagan festivals devoted to the goddess of marriage where girls and boys were paired, these arbitrary unions often resulting later in marriage. But the Catholic Church had long ago stepped in and put a stop to things. Centuries later, Chaucer associated the same dates with love, which helped to create the Valentine’s most know today.
“You know what, I will give you a few recipes too with ingredients that carry the best possible energies for love and for making love.” The old lady winked. “Let me get the books, mark a few recipes and spells for you to go through, then I will get you a potion and grab a book on Tantric Sex rituals.”
“Seriously? Sex rituals?”
“Would you rather I torture you by explaining the sex magick myself? You only have two days. I suggest one day, today, for reading and research, Monday for shopping and on Valentine’s Day you get it all together and then work some hot magick on that man of yours.”
As she waited for her aunt to grab everything, Margaret finished off the chocolates while planning out her next few days. She could work in her office today quietly, given it was Sunday, since with her luck he would be home today if she actually needed the house empty. Then, on Monday, she could shop after classes, and on Tuesday prep after classes were over. She was a college professor, and luckily Tuesdays and Thursdays her classes ended early.
Chapter Two
Research and shopping thankfully done by Tuesday, she was more than ready to get on with this Valentine’s Day.
A part of her worried about rejection. Her husband had seemed so distant, such a stranger almost, since losing his job. She hoped it was money worries or his concerns over finding work, maybe some masculine thing she wouldn’t understand, rather than his losing interest in her. Not minimizing what he was going through by saying something wrong had been what had kept her mouth shut this long. Yet, she was determined not to fall into the rut of long-term complacency. When couples grew apart, crazy things could happen. She trusted him, always had. Life just had a way of pummeling people sometimes, especially when they tried to face the bad alone, until they were but frail representations of themselves. Bad decisions could be made. No, she refused to just let her marriage go. She would fight for them and for him. If only she knew how to help him.
She was not going to look back over the years of her marriage someday only to be surprised it ended. She was much more proactive than that. He was going to know that she cared, if nothing else. He was going to agree to her help, her support, at the least. She would not get to be like a lady in a movie whose mother told her once it seemed her marriage was over that it was not the worst thing in the world to find that you love your husband. She knew that now, and damn it, she was going to do something about it.
In the morning, she had made mention to Michael of the kids being gone and making him dinner as she gave him coffee and a kiss. He’d returned with only a grunt for a response. So she needed to enhance her mood to add that spiritual touch to the ritual of preparing the food. First order of business, then, was taking some time to meditate and center herself. Lighting the hearth candle, she envisioned them enjoying the meal together. In her mind there was a stolen kiss as a dish was set on the table. The idea of feeding him steamed asparagus with lemon for increased hormone production and literal zest made her smile as well.
Getting to the actual work, she first cured the crab. She concentrated on having power over the negative in her marriage as she cracked the shells open. Grounding the bacon, she took her aunt’s advice and used pro-offered action. She blessed the nutrients in the meats to provide energy for their sexual ritual.
Dessert she hoped would come in bed, making use of the passion fruit salad with a sauce made with orange for love, ginger for energy, and honey for sweetness. Of course, she had gotten whipped cream just in case things went where she planned them to.
Once everything was done, she set it on serving plates and left them on warm in the oven. She sat down, willing him to get home before the food became ruined. It seemed time passed at the same pace that a chocolate heart melted in the freezer,. Finally, she heard the door creak as it opened and his keys hit the table beside the front door. Clicking the oven off, she scurried to move the platters of food onto the table. Her heart beat faster with each of his footsteps as she could hear him remove his shoes and hang his jacket. Moments later, he stood in the entry to the kitchen, looking like he would rather be anywhere else. Even in old jeans and stained sweatshirt, he looked sexy. Damn!
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” she chirped as brightly as she could manage.
“Yeah. You too. What’s this?”
“Dinner, as promised. Crab and asparagus with bread and a salad.”
“Crab? Bit extravagant for a one income family, isn’t it?”
“I still work. We are not destitute. I thought a splurge was in order in honor of the day, in honor of us. That is, if you still want there to be an us!” Her voice had pitched, tears filling her eyes as she willed them not to fall down her cheeks. She didn’t know where the anger, which had rose with heat up through her back, had come from so quickly. One minute she had been hopeful and anxious, the next she was like a volcano of negative emotions.
“What do you mean, if I still want there to be an us?” he said, with his usual bored tone taken up barely a notch.
This infuriated her to no end. Every muscle in her body tensed, her shoulders to th
e point of muscle spasms. Her blood must literally be boiling from the flush she felt over her chest and face.
To hell with the food being wasted; she spoke her mind with her hands clenched. “Are you serious. You walk around here like a zombie, barely paying anyone in this house any attention. I know you have lost your job and all, but you still have a family. And you are hurting them each day you walk by us with barely a grunt of acknowledgment. Okay, maybe you have a little more for the kids, but not for me! I have every right to ask if you still want there to be an us, if you still love me!”
He stood there, not even blinking. His face was scrunched up, but he made no move to speak or reach out to her or anything else. With the heat now a fiery inferno on her neck and a slight tremor working its way down her spine, she spun on her heel to run from the room.
His hand on her arm shocked her enough to make her squeal. He yanked her around to face him again. The tears forming in his eyes made the ones in hers overflow.
“I never thought you would have to ask me that!” His voice rose in anger, startling her because she had expected softness. “We are supposed to be there for each other in good times and bad. For me, this is a bad time! I need you to understand as much as you can what losing a job means to a man. I am battling demons here, whether ones formed by male pride or not. I need you to stand by me right now, not demand things of me. Shit! Fuck! I’m mad at me, not you! I just need you to try to understand.”
