A Witch's Fate_A Reverse Harem Romance

by Cheri Winters

  Using the hand that is still in my hair, he pulls me up to my feet, pulls me against him, and starts to kiss me deeply. The light, fine hair on his chest feels strange as it is slick with his sweat, as he presses it into the mess he left on my chest. He reaches his free hand around to take a firm handful of my bottom, kneading it, interjecting one of his thighs between mine to open them up.

  I can’t help but grind myself against his firm and muscular thigh. I resign myself to taking my pleasure that way, when I realize that he is still rock hard and standing tall. I break the kiss to look at him while I take it in my hand.

  Nathan smiles and says, “You certainly did not think that was all, did you?”

  “I had no idea,” I say.

  “It pleases me greatly that you chose to submit to my will that way. Let me reward you,” he says. For the first time since I told him to take me, he takes his hand out of my hair. He runs it down my back, dragging his nails hard across my skin until that hand starts to squeeze and knead my cheeks. For my part, I keep stroking him, savoring the anticipation of having that glorious part of him up inside of me.

  He takes his right hand off of my backside, and spins me around, so my back is up against him. He licks his fingers, and bends his knees a bit so he can reach down between my legs. For as forceful as he has been up until now, his fingers are surprisingly gentle as he parts my lower lips and seeks out the warm wetness inside of me. I feel his fingers dance and he brings his head down, to put his ear next to my mouth. I am barely aware that he is carefully listening to my breath and my voice as he explores.

  He finds a certain spot inside of me that makes my breath catch, and I shudder as I inhale. My knees go weak and he shifts to hold me while he rubs his fingers rapidly on that spot until mighty waves of pleasure burst through me. I think I may even black out for a moment at the height of the orgasm, because the next thing I know, I am facing him, and he’s picking me up. I instinctively wrap my arms and legs around him, because I need some solid anchor in the world while I come down from that climax.

  It doesn’t take me long to realize that he still isn’t finished with me, when I feel him lower me down until he is right on the verge of entering me. I’m not ready yet, so I tighten my grip on him and lift myself up a bit. He seems content for now to simply hold onto me while I take a break to come back fully to the real world. The whole time, I don’t feel even the slightest tremor in his legs while he supports the weight of both of us, no sign that his hold on me is flagging. The simple physical endurance he has, not to mention the fact that his body was still ready to go for another round immediately after his first orgasm makes my head swim again. How would one live with a lover like him? Two days in a relationship with him, and I don’t think I’d be able to ever walk straight again!

  I am still aching unbelievably inside for him, though. The fingers were amazing, but most definitely not what I really want from him tonight. I loosen my hold on him and he lets me slowly slide down his body. I take a deep breath in, and as I feel our most intimate parts touch, I let it out slowly, anticipating some discomfort. Fortunately, despite his size, I am so eager to have him in me, so well prepared, physically, by his attentions, that my body accepts him easily. He still fills me entirely, more than I ever thought possible, and I am glad that he waits until I am able to relax around him before he starts moving.

  Much like when I had him in my mouth, it takes me a little bit to figure out how to move my body. It seems like it should be easier than it is to coordinate the thighs wrapped around his waist and the arms thrown over his shoulders and over his neck, but the intense sensations shivering up my body seem to throw all of my parts out of synch with each other. He helps greatly by using his own core and his hands, now gripping my upper thighs, to set an easy rhythm for us.

  Eventually I get all of my limbs and his working together, and am able to abandon myself to the moment. I climax twice this way, thankful that the night is still somewhat cool, because between the workout I’m getting, and powerful furnace that is Nathan, I need some relief. By this time, I am nearly spent, between the physical exertion and three bone-shaking orgasms. Between our sweat and the gentle scrub his chest scruff rubbing against me, the result of his earlier spill across my breasts has long since washed away.

  “Do you have one more in you?” he whispers in my ear.

  “You’ll have to carry me to the house,” I say.

  Nathan lowers himself to his knees then leans forward, gently lowering me to the ground. The cool earth feels so good on my skin as it starts to slowly draw some of the excess heat out of me. He doesn’t lower his body onto mine, which also helps me cool some, and I find that I have more than enough energy to let him bring me up and over the peak one more time. I spread my arms out wide while he settles himself into a comfortable position to finish up. As when he was in my mouth, he takes up a pace that is slow, but authoritative and firm. His own pleasure starts building steadily as he goes, I can track his trek up to the apex of his own pleasure, and it is easy for me to follow him up. When he makes that final thrust into me, and I hear that entrancing sound come out of his mouth again and I feel his hot seed pour into and overflow my body, it pushes me over the edge as well. His orgasm is way more powerful than the one I have, but I have also had three righteous ones myself. So having this last one be quieter is perfect. It helps bring me down from the intense and flaming high I was on, and I get to watch and experience the pleasure my body is giving to him. It feels much more intimate that way.

  As he finally finishes, he relaxes, but still leaves a few inches of space between our chests so the soft breeze can send more cooling air across me. It takes a while, but eventually I start to feel cold as my sweat dries. I pull him close to me, now needing his heat again.

  “Thank you,” he tells me, as he settles his weight onto me. “I would have been greatly saddened to have never shared that with you.”

  “Same,” is the only word I can manage to get out, as I’m still breathing hard from what he had just done to me. I realize it is hard to think of what just happened as love making. It was certainly intimate and attentive, there was genuine emotion shared between us, but it was so different. Nathan, once I gave myself to him, possessed me. I chuckle a little bit as I think of it that way. I was just possessed by a demon. But it was still very much an act of mutual pleasure and affection, even though he took control and took whatever pleasure he wanted from my body. I let myself feel my emotions as they happen, while Nathan lays on top of me. I have no regrets at having given my body to him for his use, and in fact, think that this lesson in another way that sex can be had will serve me well in the future.

  I take a couple breaths to steady myself, and ask Nathan, “You still respect me after all of that, right?”

  “I would never have done any of that if I did not respect you,” he says. “I will always cherish the memory of what you just gave me.”

  “Am I a bad person for having done it?”

  “Because soon you will share your body with Carl? No. Not at all.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Carl Wilson

  When I get home, Grandma’s car is right in front of my house. I am tempted to just keep on driving, but I know I won’t be able to escape her. Plus, she’s the type of woman where it’s to just step up and take your lumps if you’ve crossed her, because she’s not going to forget, and she’s going to give you extra for having tried to run.

  I pull my car into the garage, and meet her at the door. She’s way to proper to tear into me outside at this time of night, so I unlock the door.

  “Before you jump all over me,” I say, “You have been spying on me for weeks. So I got out from under you for a bit. So what?”

  “I specifically told you to not go looking for Ivy and Ben. You’ll put her in grave danger.”

  “I can’t just sit around waiting for terrible things to happen to her,” I say. “You know that.”

  “That hunter is coming up short on f
inding them. You are leading her right to them. If I could track you, she certainly has been.”

  “Maybe everybody needs to just stop tracking me!” I want to shout that, but I can’t seem to rouse up the energy. “And while I’m on the subject of things that are pissing me off, what did you do to me? Where is the wolf?”

  “It’s suppressed for a few days. It’s better that way.”

  “Emily!” I say. I think it’s the first time in years that I have used her name. “I really need you to stop tampering with my life. I love you and Ivy, but I’ve lost her, and you’re pushing me away. There’s nothing that ties me to this town. Nothing. Maybe the best thing for me to do is forget about your family entirely and go back down south or something.”

  “No, Carl. You are needed here. Ivy needs you.”

  “Ivy threw me out of her life.”

  “She did, but she still needs you. When she gets back into town, she’ll understand a lot more than she did when she left, and she’ll know what she had with you.”

  “And you know this because you can see the future. So there’s something else pushing me around. You, vampires, some vague tomorrow. Does nothing in the world want me to just live my life and be who I am?”

  “Ivy does. Ivy wants you to be who you are. Just don’t go back out there again, so you don’t get her killed. Wait for her to come to you.”

  “I won’t go back out there,” I say.

  “Why?” Emily asks. “What did you see?”

  “More of Ivy than I ever thought I would, that’s for sure.” I sigh. “It’s probably a good thing you did whatever it is you did. If you hadn’t put the wolf to bed for a while, it would have come out when I saw her and Ben together.”

  “I know you don’t want to hear this, Carl, but sometimes you do need to trust others. I know this has been hard on you.”

  “Next time, tell me why you want me to do or not do things. This secret keeping has been killing me.”

  “Carl. You don’t want that. Nobody is happy when they know what is going to happen.”

  “Well maybe you need to stop carrying all of that misery alone.”

  “Grab a couple of beers,” she says.

  “I’ll grab you one, but I want something stronger,” I say, opening one of my kitchen cabinets, and reaching behind a dozen cans to grab the bottle of tequila laying on its side, hidden behind them.

  “I’ll take some of that, too,” she says, sitting down at my kitchen table. I go for a couple of glasses, but she tells me to skip them.

  I put the bottle on the table and sit. She pulls out the stopper and takes a good sip. “Boy. You need to learn to drink.”

  “It’s what an underage guy can get easily,” I say, taking the bottle from her and putting a mouthful down. She does have a point, though. Cheap tequila is not pleasant.

  “You want to be your own man, chart your own course. I get it. Let me tell you how walking this route for a little longer lets you do that.”

  “Make it good,” I say.

  “It took me some time to put all of the pieces together, but you, Ben, Nathan, and Ivy are going to put the war between the vampires and the werewolves to bed. Maybe not forever, but for a very long time.”

  “How?” I ask.

  “There is a reason you three men have all been drawn here to Stokers Mill, and to friendship with Ivy specifically. All three of you men have been taken in by her when our peers rejected you. You and Nathan have been here long enough that Ivy’s affection for you has gotten other people to see you differently and to warm to you. If Ben had come into town a year ago, the same would have happened to him.”

  “So we’re all going to show the zombie clans and the packs that Ben and I can live together and even be in a love triangle over a girl, and they’ll all slap their foreheads, and say, ‘Wow! We can all be best of buds, we don’t have to fight!’”

  “No,” Emily says. She offers me the bottle. “Take a good belt. This is about to get strange,” she says.

  I pull a big mouthful off the bottle, and set it down. The alcohol burns harsh going down, enough to water my eyes and double me over. When I can sit up straight again, I say, “Ok. I’m ready.”

  But it turns out I wasn’t. By the time she finishes her story, full of demons and a mother that bore twins, a zombie and a wolf, and they fought, and they made more like themselves that fought, and that was three millennia back. And then she keeps going on, to the present day. She had received a prophecy from her own great grandmother, and everything points to Ivy being the subject of it, but the prophecy was unclear. But then Ben arrived, and she was able to pick up his senses of the future from him, and there was something about Nathan knowing something about me, and that made everything super clear to her somehow.

  “So, Ben has changed Ivy by being with her, and now she’s turning away from Ben to be with me, and that is going to fix everything? First, that is completely ridiculous, and second…” There’s enough hard liquor in me that I lose my train of thought briefly. “Second. Where does Nathan fit into all of this?”

  “By now, you should know,” she says.

  I tap the side of the tequila bottle. “I don’t know anything for sure right now.”

  “Well,” she says. “By the time you sober up, I’m sure it’ll be clear. Come here.” She stands up and opens her arms wide. I have always been glad that the wolf seriously dislikes booze. It makes me a maudlin drunk instead of an angry or unpredictable one. “Good night, Carl.”

  “Good night, Grandma.”

  Morning comes with sunlight coming in through a curtain I did not shut the night before, and a really unpleasant hangover. I forgot to drink my fill of water before collapsing into bed, and now my mouth feels like it’s full of old socks and my head is pounding.

  But clarity comes with it as well. I am able to reconstruct most of the story Grandma told me the night before, and realize Nathan’s place in the whole story. He’s a demon, that’s what I was never able to put my finger on before. Now that I know, it is glaringly obvious, but pack lore has it that major demons, the kind that can pass as pinkies, stopped concerning themselves with human affairs long ago, which means I had no reason to suspect he was anything of the sort. Kind of like having a friend who was born in the Soviet Union or Rhodesia or some other country that doesn’t even exist anymore. Unless you have a specific reason to ask, ‘Hey. Where were you born?’, you don’t, you just assume they were probably born in the same town they were living in when you met.

  I think back to something else Grandma told me last night. When she mentioned that she had picked up on Ben’s sensing, fear dropped on my like a ton of bricks. Hearing Grandma say that she fully believed in Ben’s sense reminded me of his warning to me, of a Negre killing me in the process of finding out where Ivy was.

  “Don’t beat yourself up too bad over that one,” she says. “You did your part to prevent that exact future from coming to pass. The lies to your friends, the amount of time you did spend very pointedly sticking to school and your job, the fact that you held off on searching for them as long as you had. It bought Ben and Ivy enough time to change their situation, and gave others enough time to disrupt the hunter. That’s the tricky and funny thing about fate. You can’t change the future, but you can change the present enough to create different futures.”

  That actually made more sense last night while I was more than half blitzed on bad tequila than it does now. I feel a lot better, with her reassurance that my actions over the past few days aren’t going to get Ivy killed. I also promise myself that I need to stay away from that highway entirely, so I don’t change the present again to make futures where Ivy dies by my actions more likely again. Deep inside of me, the wolf is rumbling awake after its deep slumber of the past few days. I don’t know if it’s awake enough to help, but I throw some clothes on, pound a quart of water, and take a walk around my property.

  There’s a positive reek of skunk coming from downhill. I noticed it last night, but h
ad other things on my mind when I got home. Any other day, I wouldn’t think twice about something like that, but if you want to hide your scent, there are a few things that will do it quite well, and the acrid miasma of skunk is a good, but somewhat obvious choice.

  I take a walk out to my back fence, where the stink is coming from, taking a good look around. I find no dead skunk out there, no track predator tracks and no place I can identify as a kill in the epicenter of the odor. Whatever caused it is strong enough that even with the wolf out, I’d never be able to catch any other scent underneath it. If this is evidence of the hunter watching my house, she is either not very good at what she does – very unlikely from what I know of her, or like Grandma says, she was seriously disrupted.

  I go back to the house. My phone is still in my cellar, outside my cage. I know that is how Grandma has been keeping an eye on my movements. The hunter apparently is willing to embrace technology as well as her more arcane abilities. I go into the garage, jack up the right side of my car, and grab a flashlight and my creeper. It doesn’t take me long to find a GPS tracker tucked into the underbody.

  I decide to leave it in place for now, because I have an idea. I retrieve my phone and open up the app that Ivy and I shared. It will show both of our travels over the past few weeks. I notice that in all that time, Ivy’s phone has been sitting in her house, where mine has been busy, but mostly in a predictable pattern. Home, school, work, my circuitous route out to meet Grandma at the truck stop right after Ivy disappeared, a couple of runs to Denver with Kate and Nathan. There are two major deviations from that pattern - the two stops I made near the cabin Ben and Ivy are hiding out in are unfortunately very conspicuous by their singularity. What would make them stand out even more to whoever put that GPS tracker on my car is the fact that the runs to Denver were both in Kate’s car. The two trips to the cabin specifically were in mine.