by Jade Alters
“Possessive, huh?” Dylan says.
“Yeah or...well…” I grin and cover my mouth. Impulsively, I reach for my second glass of sweet tea and take a big gulp for courage. “Or like, I have a stronger libido than a regular human woman because of my panther…”
I lock eyes with Dylan whose mouth drops open, and I feel the whole room get hot. “Oh,” he whispers. I can feel all their attention on me, and it feels absolutely delectable. And somehow my heightened panther’s instincts are certain that they’re waiting for me to make a move and they’re too gentlemanly to make one themselves.
“Um,” Freddie murmurs. “H-how strong?”
Be confident, I tell myself. I could pretend to be an absolute seductress right now, and I already feel so sexy with how they’re looking at me. I can pretend it’s more than just sex if I want to. Even that, I’m pretty happy with. I turn my head to look at Freddie and realize he’s only inches away. I can hear how short his breath is, and it makes my heart pound.
I lift my hand, and it makes that journey, just a few inches, before landing on his knee. Everyone gasps a little at the fairly innocent gesture. You’d think I’d suddenly started pole dancing.
“Strong,” I whisper. I squeeze his knee and then I feel Dylan’s hand on my knee and when I ever so slightly part my legs beneath my skirt I feel him pulling it up little by little, just enough to bare my knee. The tension in the room is so thick I think I’m going to suffocate on the air itself, but then Freddie leans forward just a little bit and we kiss, softly as Dylan squeezes my thigh.
Jared clears his throat and everything stops. “Hope,” he whispers. I look over at him. He’s sitting on the chaise across from us. His face is red, and I can see that he’s hard in his tight-fitting pants. “Is this… Do you want this?”
I stand up then, squeezing Dylan’s hand as I rise. The great thing about antique furniture is that it’s very sturdy, so when I cross the room and turn Jared so he’s lying back on the chaise and straddle him, I’m not afraid of anything collapsing underneath us.
Jared looks at me with awe, and I press my thumb along his bottom lip. “I want this so badly, I think I’ll die if I don’t get it.”
“Oh thank God,” Jared murmurs, and kisses me with such heat that I moan into his mouth as his hands sneak up under my skirt, gripping my thighs.
Jared’s tongue is hot against mine, his lips soft even as his mouth demands more and more. I press up against him, rocking slightly, and feeling him getting harder beneath me. I’m aware of the others watching us, and it’s turning me on even more. I slide my gaze over to Dylan, willing him to join us, and he gets up quickly and crosses the room. He sits on the chaise behind me and moves my hair aside to kiss the back of my neck and then my shoulder. He pulls down the strap of my tank top, and Jared pulls down the other strap, the top slipping down to my waist, my breasts almost bare beneath the sheer lace of my bra. Dylan’s hands slide around me and cup my breasts, and I moan, rocking up against Jared and helping him off with his shirt.
Max crosses the room, but he seems shy, standing by the chaise and watching with heavy-lidded eyes. He starts palming himself through his pants, his expression pained. I lick my lips, raising my gaze to meet his and reach out to unbuckle his belt and undo his fly
I feel gluttonous as if I’m trying to eat everything on the menu of a restaurant. But I don’t want to stop. I just want to enjoy every sensation as Jared reaches down under my skirt and beneath my panties to finger me. It’s abrupt and I cry out, losing my concentration for a moment and bucking against his hand, falling back into Dylan, who unhooks my bra, my breasts filling his hands.
“God, Hope,” Max mutters, watching me. “We want you so much. I can feel it, how much we all want you. I’ve never wanted anything this much.” My hands shake as I help him, and his cock springs out.
“I want all of you,” I whisper, wrapping my hand around his cock and watching him stumble forward as his mouth drops open. “I want every bit of all of you.” I wrap lips around him and moan because Jared is mouthing at my neck while he fingers my clit. Max is hot and hard in my mouth and I like the way he fills me as Freddie kneels beside us, stroking himself and watching.
I’m sucking off Max and rocking against Jared when he stops, and with a growl, my panties are gone, his strong hands ripping through the fabric and tearing them away before he takes his cock out. He and Dylan lift me up as if I weigh nothing. Tenderly, they bring me down, and I’m impaled on Jared’s cock, tears filling my eyes at the feeling of fullness, the heat and girth of Jared so painfully good inside me as Max fills my mouth. Jared throws his head back and cries out, thrusting up into me while Max holds the back of my head, fucking into my mouth. My eyes meet Freddie’s and he’s watching in wonder, and I want him too. I want all of them at once and the intensity of want is overwhelming. I suck harder on Max and he mumbles a warning before he cums. I cough a little bit and he tries to pull away, but I shake my head and swallow, catching his cum, drinking down that thick, saltiness. Max all but falls to his knees on the floor and Freddie takes his place and without hesitation, he’s in my mouth next.
Dylan is pinching my nipples, and I suck Freddie off as I bounce on top of Jared, lost and dizzy with all the overwhelming bliss that fills me until Jared swells inside me, making me gasp around Freddie. When Jared comes, I can feel him pulsing within me, and Dylan reaches around to finger my clit at the same time. The combination makes me sob. I feel as if I can’t take any more pleasure. I can’t even tell if I’m coming again or if I just never stopped, but Dylan doesn’t let up until I’m helpless, almost melted. I feel myself turn to jelly even as I keep sucking off Freddie until he comes in my mouth, his palm cradling my face. Dylan’s magic fingers seem to find some hidden place, some spare bit of pleasure not yet discovered. A kind of lightning bolt shoots through me, and I pull away from Freddie, screaming loud enough to wake up all of Florida before I collapse on top of Jared absolutely spent, shaking and exhausted.
Hope
When I get home that evening, I feel both naughty and wonderful. I think I’ve had a good number of decent sexual experiences in my time, but nothing compares to this. You’d think that would mean I’d be full up for a long time, coasting on the ecstasy of that afternoon with the wizards, but it’s only served to make me want more. I just don’t think they want more, and I might have a better chance at something real with the four of them if I was a just a little bit hotter. It sounds bad, I know. But I honestly don’t see how a spell is much different than some extra special make-up, and to my mind, it’s less dangerous than plastic surgery. Spells can be undone. Knives are terrifying.
The boys all send me follow-up texts that are sweet but non-committal, which is fair. They say they truly want to get together again soon, but they’re slammed with work. I can’t decide what that really means. It’s hard enough not to over-analyze every little thing when you like one person, but compound that by four plus my sometimes over-reactive panther nature and it’s a recipe for a bit of paranoia. Still, I’m assuming they’re not truly interested beyond that one magical afternoon. They’re probably trying to make their lines clear by saying they’re busy with work, and that’s alright. I text back that I’m going to be working on my magic and working a lot of hours at Cafe Amour. All of which is true.
After that first night, I lie on my couch and watch something random on my TV, but my head is swimming with everything that happened between me and the wizards. My friend Jacklyne from Cafe Amour texts to ask how I am, and I text back that I just got laid and how which results in a long chain of enthusiastic emojis. I’m not even sure what I’m going to tell Jacklyne about it. Maybe I’ll just reduce the four to one. Jacklyne’s a friend, but I don’t know how she’ll react if I tell her I just had sex with four guys at once. Jacklyne wants to know all the details, so I vaguely promise to get together for drinks soon and spill. I’m not ready to give out details yet. I like having this all to myself. I also know that if I let
slip to Jacklyne that I’m afraid I’m not attractive enough for the “guy” to be in to me, she’s going to lecture me on self-confidence and body image, and I would agree with her while not being able to help myself. I don’t feel like sitting through a lecture and life is short after all.
I find the page I ripped out of the spell book and read it about a dozen times while tuning out the goofy reality show I’ve put on TV. I’ve got all the ingredients now, but I’m still nervous about it. Then I see in smudged ink that I’m also going to need four hand mirrors for this thing. I didn’t even notice that before. Well, I definitely don’t have four hand mirrors, so I’ll have to pick those up after work in the next couple of days.
I’m simultaneously eager and nervous about the spell. I keep telling myself there’s no rush. I can do this thing any day. But I definitely want to do it before I see the wizards again. If they’re busy with work though, I have a little grace period to get it all ready and make sure I do it right. I check my calendar and see that there’s a full moon coming up in a few days time and decide to brew it then. Spells are always done best on full moon nights. That’s why so much shit goes down on a full moon.
The next day, I go to work as usual. I skip a morning run in the woods this time, feeling a little paranoid about escapee werewolves. Otherwise, I have a nice day. I’m still in a dopey, giddy mood after that epic sex session. The only drawback being that everyone seems to know something is different about me. Bobbi asks me if I’ve been using something new on my skin because I’m “glowing” and Jacklyne keeps giving me sly looks. I just smirk and keep it all to myself. Even the most annoying customers don’t get to me today. Nothing can touch my good mood. By the time I leave work, I'm feeling extra optimistic about the spell.
In the days leading up to the full moon, I practice the incantations for the spell and text back and forth with the guys. Dylan seems to be the most prolific texter. He’s also the one who deals with customers face-to-face the most out of the four of them, so the two of us share a lot of stories about crazy customers. I would have thought my stories would be boring to somebody with an exciting job like magical protection, but Dylan seems even more amused by how upset people can get about their slightly overpriced coffee than I am about the guys battling vampires and werewolves.
Finally, the day of truth arrives. It’s the night of the full moon. I’m a little bit on edge all day. Somehow, even the guys can tell I’m a bit off just from my texts, but I don’t tell them a thing. I don’t tell anyone a thing. I’ve got my hand mirrors and all my ingredients, and I’ve practiced the incantations a million times. It’s now or never. All day at work, I’m jittery. But I calm myself down imagining how beautiful I’ll be. Those four hotties won’t know what hit ‘em when they see the new and improved me.
At work that afternoon, I get a text from the guys inviting me to dinner for the next night, my heart thuds in my chest. Hopefully, I’ll be newly beautiful when they see me next. I text our group thread a thumbs up, and when I slip my phone back in my apron pocket, I feel giddy with excitement.
I make myself take my time that night. I figure if I rush things, I’m more likely to make a mistake and anyway, I’m not going to do the spell until around ten o’clock. I treat myself to some Chinese take-out and put on the goofy sci-fi show that Max begged me to watch so I can tell him what I think. For the most part, it’s a nice relaxing night.
At a quarter to ten, I start getting ready. I take all my stuff outside to the backyard. I set my cauldron out on the damp grass along with all my ingredients. I have a lantern to light things, and I make sure I can see everything clearly. First, I start adding the ingredients together. Every little element has to be measured and added carefully. Then, I mix according to the directions and set out the mirrors as directed. They’re all supposed to be facing me from different angles. Then, I sit lotus style in the grass and start the incantations. The passages are in Latin, and I barely know what they mean. I don’t think I need to though. I just need to make sure I say the right words in the right order. The whole thing takes about an hour, and I don’t think I’ve made a mistake. The tricky part is that there are variables even a decent witch can’t necessarily control, like if the wind blows wrong and makes the ingredients stir a little bit the wrong way. There are other things too, unproven sort of theories about how spells go wrong like spirits “stealing your voice” when you speak an incantation. This is, assuming you’re around a bunch of spirits. I hope I’m not. At the height of the incantations, I feel a hot sort of buzzing feeling in my face. It doesn’t hurt, but it feels weird. I figure that’s good. It must mean the spell is working.
When I’m finished, the brew in my cauldron bubbles and explodes a little, but that’s to be expected. And then that’s it. I’m done. There’s nothing more I can do either way.
I really hope this works because it sure cost enough to brew. I grab a hand mirror and hold the lantern close, but I don’t look any different as far as I can tell. I run inside to the bathroom, switch on the light, and look in the mirror. No change at all.
I try to keep hope alive. A lot of spells take a little time to work, they’re not always instantaneous. I’m just nervous because the spell didn’t say whether the change would be instantaneous or not. But if it didn’t work at all, well...that was an impressive waste of money. I suppose it’s not much worse than spending too much money on eye cream or something that doesn’t work. It happens. I might research the spell if there’s still no change in a few days and save up and try it again. Second time’s the charm, right? I do know a couple of shifters who dabble in magic. Maybe one of them can help me out.
That night, I have strange dreams. I’m running in the woods again, and the panther is chasing me. Only this time there’s a thick fog, and I can’t see where I’m going. I’m trying to get to Jared’s mansion, to safety, to the guys. But I can’t see even a foot in front of me. Soon I’m lost and worse, I’m stuck in human form and I can’t shift. I’m just running and running, forever lost and forever being chased. It’s a mild kind of nightmare, but it makes me toss and turn all night. When I wake up, I don’t feel rested. I’m stiff and achy and practically drenched in sweat. I also feel strange, and I wonder if the spell has worked overnight. Millie is whining and I drag myself out of bed to let her outside and then trudge into the bathroom and flick on the light.
When I see myself in the mirror, I gasp and clap my hands to my face.
I’ve changed alright, but I am not beautiful. The spell has given me thick, jagged scars that crisscross my face. It looks as though someone dragged my face through broken glass a while back, and I was just left to heal naturally. I never thought I was beautiful, but this is awful. My right cheek is so thick with scars, the skin is mottled. My mouth, eyes, and nose look the same, but the rest… I stare at myself, my mouth hanging open. I have no idea what I did wrong with the spell, but it could not have turned out much worse.
A cold, empty feeling passes through me, and I burst into tears.
I might be vain. Sure. I don’t care. I screwed up my own face and now it’s scarred forever. It might be my fault, but for the moment, I’m going to bask in self-pity. So much for attracting those hotties, they’ll never look at me twice now. Neither will anyone else. I’m utterly hideous.
I keep staring into the mirror like it might all disappear at any second. But it’s not going to. At least, it’s not going to disappear unless I find a way to reverse the spell right the hell now, and I have no idea how to do that. I don’t even know who I’d ask about something like that other than the guys, and that’s way too humiliating. I’m not about to ask the four hottest men I’ve ever met and just slept with if they can reverse the spell I just tried to use to make myself hotter for them. Big yikes on that one.
I can’t help but think of that wizard in the woods who was about to kill that panther. It’s a completely crazy idea, but whatever he was doing was clearly working. I could feel the strength of magic just standing th
ere, and I’m sure he knows a lot about spells. I wonder if I could possibly ask him…
“You’re out of your mind,” I tell myself in the mirror.
Yes, clearly. Also, where would I even find him?
But that scarred and awful face is still staring at me in the mirror. I suppose, given enough time I would get used to it. I know that what’s underneath matters most and all that, but on the other hand...I was pretty used to my face and as much as I wanted to make it a little prettier, it still was my face. This face is marred and twisted. This doesn’t look like me anymore.
Abruptly, I burst into tears, and I can’t stop. I’m supposed to be getting ready for work, but the thought of going to Cafe Amour is horrifying. How on earth will I explain this to my co-workers who don’t know anything about magic? The scars look like they’ve been around for a while. It looks like the aftermath of horrible injuries I would have gotten months ago. How would I face customers? I don’t even know what someone’s reaction might be when they see me.
I’m crying so hard, I have to sit down. I slide to the tile floor in my bathroom, and I cry until I can’t cry anymore. It goes on for half an hour. I feel so stupid and vain and awful. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I can never face the guys again. I don’t know how I can ever face anyone again.
When I can manage to stagger to my feet, I grab my phone from the nightstand and leave a mumbling possibly incoherent voicemail for Bobbi explaining that I have a bad flu and don’t know when I’ll be in. I can’t imagine what he’ll think of me. I had a good week but just before that I called out. My work record overall is very strong, but it can’t look great to suddenly be acting like a flake.
My eyes are swollen and sore from crying so much. I toss my phone on my bed and strip off my clothes, turning away from the mirror. At least the rest of my body is okay. I step into the shower and turn it up as hot as I can stand and I feel a little better. But when I lather up my facial cleanser and reach up to wash my face, I’m reminded of those thick, jagged scars again. I actually forgot about them for a second there. But this is real. This is my face now. I take forever in the shower. It’s not just my looks either. I just feel like the biggest fool in the world. This also means that I screwed up the spell, and I have no idea how. I guess I really do need to go to magic school and work on honing what little skills I have.
