Safe Hex: A Hexy Witch Mystery (Womby's School for Wayward Witches Book 16)

by Sarina Dorie

  “We’ve been working on this for months.”

  “This is your art?” I asked.

  “In a manner of speaking, yes. It’s my artistic rendering and Elric’s magic. A collaboration.”

  They had been working together for months to make this without telling me? It was so sweet and thoughtful. And sexy.

  I smiled at him and squeezed his hand. “I wish I could hug you.”

  “You can. It’s just better if it isn’t prolonged.”

  I threw my arms around him and embraced him, trying to infuse all my love into that brief moment. He planted a kiss on my forehead. I squeezed his ribs tighter, past what I would consider appropriately comfortable for most people, hoping this brought him a mixture of emotional pleasure and the kind of physical discomfort he liked.

  I let go and adjusted the book back on my lap.

  The artistry in the pictures was delicate and subtle, the minimalistic rendering soft enough that it left some details to the imagination, but it wasn’t so hazy I couldn’t figure out who was whom. What the figures were doing—what we were doing—was a little less comprehensible. As far as I could tell, it was something sexual.

  I turned the page sideways, trying to make sense of the jumble of limbs. Elric kneeled behind me as I leaned in a yoga pose over Thatch’s crotch.

  I glanced up at Thatch. His face was impassive, making it impossible to guess what he might be thinking. He lifted my hand and touched my finger to the page. The tingle started in my hand and worked its way up my arm and into my core. The artwork came alive, the scene playing like an animated watercolor. There were thumps and moans, so faint I had to lean closer to hear.

  It was hard to see what was happening in the picture, but I could feel what was happening inside me. My heart sped up, and my pelvis throbbed with anticipation. I glanced at Thatch, feeling guilty, like a child sneaking a cookie. A smile played over his lips.

  He circled an arm around my waist, scooting closer. “Hold the book closer and close your eyes.”

  I trusted him implicitly. He knew me well enough to gift me with something I would like. I hugged the book to my chest and closed my eyes. I wasn’t watching an animation any longer.

  Immediately, I became immersed in the scene. I felt Elric inside me, thrusting. I tasted the salty-sweet of Thatch’s flesh against my mouth, smelled his magic of starlight and lavender. The experience was so unexpected, I dropped the book. The sensations ceased as abruptly as they’d began.

  I opened my eyes to find Thatch’s arm snug around my waist where it had been a moment ago. He leaned forward to pick up the book from a mound of clover at my feet. He dusted the book off on his pants.

  “Sorry,” I said, trying to catch my breath.

  “Too much?” he asked.

  “No, it was fine.” More than fine. I took the book from him again and opened it to another page at random.

  I found another beautiful watercolor. This one was titled “The Sandwich.” There was a caption below, but I was too distracted by the painting to read it. In this one I lay across Thatch’s stomach, facing upward. His hands restrained my wrists above my head. Elric leaned over me, his hands on my breasts. When I touched my finger to the picture, this one didn’t move or make any sounds. Even so, I was aware of the way my body responded to this, the tingle between my thighs, and the clench of muscles.

  I closed my eyes and waited for the sensation to wash over me.

  Thatch’s breath brushed against my ear, warm and inviting. “Not all of the pictures are enchanted yet. Some require the use of your imagination.” He shifted on the seat beside me, drawing me closer so that my back pressed against his chest. He drew an arm around me, pinning my arms in place. His other hand caressed my cleavage, fingers probing below the low collar. My breath hitched in my chest.

  “Do you like this picture? Is this something you would like to try some time?” he murmured into my hair.

  I wanted to lose myself in the desire building inside me, but I focused on his words. “I thought you couldn’t be with me until you were done recovering.”

  “There are ways to mitigate my affinity problems. Self-inflicted pain is one method.” He moved his hand from my cleavage to the book, pointing out the vises on his arms in the drawing, which I had failed to notice. “The other is through magical means. If Elric is there to monitor your magic, that also will help me.”

  I twisted my head to kiss him. “I would be willing to try it so I could be with you.”

  “Good.”

  He cupped a hand under my breasts outside of my bodice, a thumb kneading in a circular motion as if searching for my nipple. A whimper of desire escaped my lips. My panties felt slick and wet.

  He drew his hand away from my breast and hugged me to him instead. He sighed into my hair. His heart pounded so hard in his chest, I could feel it against my back. A tremor passed through him. I hoped this wasn’t too much pleasure for him. I was probably radiating enough magic that it seeped into him like a poison.

  I twisted again to take in his reaction. I found worry in his eyes. He released me.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. “You really should start at the beginning. It’s arranged sequentially from the more simple and ‘vanilla,’ as Vega would put it, to the more complex scenarios. I imagine you won’t be ready for that kind of . . . kink yet.”

  He had piqued my curiosity. Me being me, and not one to listen to advice, I skipped ahead to the end.

  “Of course you would,” Thatch said.

  Kinky was right. My eyes went wide. It was a dungeon master painting with spankings and bondage. I didn’t think I’d be into gags or nipple clamps. The painting with sex in a coffin was way more Vega’s fantasy than mine. Some of the torture devices and the stocks didn’t look as cushioned and comfortable as the pictures with the fluffy bed that had been in earlier paintings.

  Thatch flipped the pages to the beginning. He slid his finger along a table of contents with titles of artwork and turned to page three. It was a lovely watercolor of me sitting on his lap, his hand on my cheek. Even with the simplified faces and details, the gestures captured the tenderness of the moment.

  “That’s sweet,” I said.

  Thatch touched his finger to the image, and the figures moved like an animated GIF. His avatar smoothed a strand of red hair out of my face before placing his hands under my hips and rocking my pelvis against his. The painted version of me clutched his shoulders and arched my back. It was arousing to watch, but it didn’t have the same kind of magic the other paintings did to draw me into the scene.

  “This must have taken you hours to paint,” I said.

  “Indeed. I was supposed to wait until the book was complete before showing it to you—I was supposed to wait for Elric to be present—but I thought it might be best to do so now so that you would know Elric and I have been discussing ways to compromise. We agree that it’s important to share you in a way that would make you feel more . . . sovereignty over your situation.” Thatch shifted uncomfortably. There was something else there he was afraid of. Maybe he didn’t think I would like it.

  He attempted a smile. “What do you think?”

  “I like the artwork,” I said. I didn’t know how to interpret his nervousness. Maybe it had something to do with the S & M dungeon kink. “I appreciate the sentiment. It’s . . . a thoughtful idea.”

  “Indeed?”

  “And the layout and table of contents was also your idea?”

  “Of course. If anything, I am thorough and organized.” He cleared his throat as if waiting for me to say something more. “What do you think of the position?”

  “It’s nice. Great.” From his furrowed brow, I could see I still wasn’t reacting the way he wanted. “So is this meant to be like a Netflix menu for me to choose something to watch like the magical tableaux? Or is this a menu for participation?”

  “You could use it as a means of arousing yourself should you need it, th
ough our intention was for you to use it as a menu as you would when going to a restaurant to select a meal.”

  “Oh, sure,” I said. “That makes sense.”

  His eyes were worried. “This is a position you’d be willing to try while he watches?”

  “What do you mean, ‘while he watches?’”

  He said nothing, only tapped at the picture.

  I looked down at the animation again, realizing that beyond the curtains of the bed, Elric sat in the chair watching. He was soft and hazy, so it was no surprise I hadn’t noticed him upon my first inspection. I turned the page. Elric sat in the bed in this one, but almost out of the frame. I turned another page.

  It was a like a Where’s Waldo book, but I had to find the naked, masturbating Fae. In the next scene, Thatch was the one watching.

  I stared at the picture. “Wait, so you’re saying any time you and I have sex together, he thinks he’s going to watch?”

  “If he’s going to monitor your magic and mine, he must be present.”

  “But I don’t need him if we do something to ensure that you experience . . . pain. I can monitor myself and ensure I don’t weaken you. Right?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I don’t want to always be with Elric.” My voice rose in agitation. “I want to be with you. I married you.”

  “It isn’t so simple.” He took my face in his hands. “I can’t magically do what he can. Nor can I physically.”

  “You don’t need to do what he can. I just need you to love me.” I untied his cravat and unwound the strip of white fabric. I kissed him roughly, hoping it was enough to satisfy his need for pain.

  Thatch placed his hands over mine and stopped me from throwing the fabric aside. “Someone will stumble upon us. If not Elric, someone else.”

  “The children are away on a field trip. Elric is with Vega right now, satisfying her lust for you.” Probably Elric had a Thatch face on, which was all kinds of weird. I waved a hand at the book. “I say we try page three, only without an audience. I’ll control my magic, and I’ll make sure you experience pain.”

  “Without a Fae audience,” he repeated. His eyes drifted to somewhere else, far away.

  I wondered if he was thinking of the time we’d been captured by the Raven Queen, and she’d forced us to have sex while she’d watched with her minions. That had been almost two years ago. It had disturbed him, perhaps more than it disturbed me. I had thought he’d gotten over it.

  A lump hardened in my throat. I thought I had gotten over it. But as I remembered the circle of Fae crowding in, my memory of the incident wavered. I had been blindfolded—Thatch’s attempt to spare me from seeing the Fae onlookers. Yet I remembered leering faces ogling us. I recalled creatures with spindly bodies and birdlike beaks, part human and part otherworldly creature. The Raven Queen had run her tongue along shark spikes of teeth in anticipation.

  I had projected my awareness outside my body to see them. Yet there were details I remembered that were different. We’d been in the Raven Queen’s garden courtyard of poisonous plants. Yet I remembered a forest of dead trees behind her as she leered at us.

  I shivered. “I don’t want an audience,” I repeated. “I just want you.”

  “You always make my life harder than it should be.” Thatch smiled, his eyes sad. “It would be so much easier if I had the willpower to say no to you.” He drew me into his arms and kissed me.

  The cushions of moss were as soft as the bed of our chamber. I hiked up my chemise and dress so I could sit on his lap without getting the pastel fabric dirty or stained with green. He unbuttoned the top fastenings of his shirt. We started off with position number three but ended up on the ground in what Thatch said were positions two and one. Thatch leaned over me, kissing my face as he thrust inside me, gentle and slow. It was sweet and tender like our first time together. I was already aroused. The only difference was that I was the one asking him the questions: Was I pulling his hair hard enough? When I dug my fingers into his ribs, did it draw enough pain?

  Even with this added element, it didn’t take long for the magic inside me to flutter and spiral.

  “Keep your magic contained,” Thatch said. “I can’t help you with it. If you lose control, I will be forced to stop.”

  I prayed he meant it. I didn’t want to hurt him.

  I noticed the shimmer in the ferns next to us, the way they were flattened. We might have damaged them rolling onto the ground. The air smelled like nature and powerful magic, not Celestor magic of starlight or Thatch’s scent of dusty books, oil paint, and the bitter almond of cyanide. I stared at the spot, trying to see what was there.

  “What is it?” Thatch asked. He glanced over his shoulder. His eyes were drooping with fatigue.

  I closed my eyes, losing myself in the wave of pleasure that washed over me.

  “Are you monitoring your affinity?” Thatch asked.

  I focused, dividing my attention between the rising tide shuddering through my body and the Red affinity wanting to break lose. I hardened the shell of armor just under the skin to keep containing my magic, and I spread the electrical magic to the boundaries of my body so that it wasn’t all concentrated in one place. My skin tingled, but the magic remained within.

  Thatch’s breathing became more labored. His complexion should have been flushed, but instead he resembled pale alabaster. His hands were cold against the fever of my flesh. I dug my fingers against his freshest tattoo.

  “Are you all right?” I asked. “Is this depleting you?”

  “Focus,” he said.

  I couldn’t focus. I pinched him and raked my nails against his skin. Where I did, a flush of warmth spread across his flesh. He needed pain.

  He moved faster, but not harder. I wanted to tell him I wasn’t afraid this would be like with the time with the Raven Queen. I wasn’t afraid he would hurt me. But I didn’t want to speak and say the wrong thing that would ruin the moment for him.

  I crested higher, the orgasm so close, but just beyond my grasp. I moaned, wanting it so badly.

  Thatch paused. “Did you come?”

  Why did he have to stop? I didn’t want him to stop. He always knew when I had come. He used his magic to sense it. The only time he paused was to tease me, to torture me, and make me beg for him. But he wasn’t smiling with wicked delight in his eyes. He was earnest. He couldn’t tell anymore. He didn’t have the same awareness or magic he’d once possessed.

  Before I could speak, the shimmer of magic out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. Elric lay there in the foliage beside us, grinning. “That was beautiful. Was it good for you?”

  Of course he would arrive now.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Son of a Fae

  Thatch flinched, and his spine went rigid. He glared over his shoulder at Elric. It appeared he had been spying on us. Our privacy had only been an illusion.

  “Don’t stop on account of me. You might as well finish. She was so close.” Elric’s tone was cloying, a little too saccharine to be real.

  “You’re going to punish us?” I asked.

  “Punish you? Why would I do that?” His eyes narrowed. “This is quite amusing. Please continue.”

  Thatch positioned himself so that his shoulder blocked Elric from my view. He resumed, but his movements were stiff and mechanical. I couldn’t stop thinking about what Elric would do now that he’d revealed himself. Thatch’s face turned red. The white lines of his tattoos showed up against the flush of his arms. There was one on his chest I hadn’t noticed before, less intricate than the Celtic knotwork that had once decorated the canvas of his skin.

  Thatch panted, his breath more labored than what was normal during our lovemaking. I pressed my fingers harder into his arms. Maybe Elric was sabotaging Thatch out of spite.

  Thatch moved faster, harder. The sensation was uncomfortable at first and then . . . nothing. I couldn’t even feel him inside me. Thatch grunt
ed, but I could tell he hadn’t come. His growl was frustration, not joy.

  Thatch rolled off me, momentarily revealing his limp biscuit before rolling onto his side, placing himself between Elric and me. He held me in his arms and hugged me to his chest.

  He kissed my forehead. “I’m sorry.”

  I kissed him back. “No. It’s fine. Don’t apologize.” I lifted my head to see past his shoulder, glaring at Elric. “You did that, didn’t you?”

  “Me? Why do you have to blame me when he’s perfectly capable of losing an erection on his own.”

  Thatch frowned. “He didn’t do anything. It was me.”

  No, it was Elric. He could have at least remained invisible for a minute longer. It was bad enough he’d watched us. It was worse he’d chosen to reveal himself when he had.

  Thatch kissed me, and some of my anger deflated. He adjusted my petticoats and dress to more modestly cover my legs. I appreciated how thoughtful he was.

  Elric’s voice came from behind me now. “That was quite artful. I especially like how you combined three different positions all in one lovemaking session.”

  I flinched out of surprise that he was so close. Apparently, he’d magicked himself into a different position. He rested his head against my shoulder. His hand smoothed up my arm. “One advantage to observing like this is how much more I can appreciate your beauty, Clarissa. I can study what pleases you, witness what techniques you enjoy, and monitor your magic. It truly was . . . educational.”

  I tried to shrink away.

  “You’re behaving like a creepy pervert.” Thatch cleared his throat. “Love, one.”

  I waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. I didn’t understand. “One what?” I glanced over my shoulder.

  Elric’s smile was pleasant, almost masking the anger in his gaze.

  “I thought you were with Vega,” I said. “It hardly seems fair you would leave her like this and come here.”