by Kojo Black
“You’re not wearing a bra.” His hoarse voice rumbled in her ears.
“I haven’t worn one in twenty years.”
She didn’t resist when he placed one palm against her left breast and gave her a gentle squeeze. His breath hitched in. She stared at his face as he gazed into her eyes. How long could they keep up this dance? She wanted him in her bed, now, but she waited for him to make the moves.
He fondled her breasts with both hands. “You are, how do you say … so firm, so … perfect.” She lowered her head and saw the tent in his boxers. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. “May I kiss them?”
He asked permission. How sweet. “Of course you may. I thought you’d never ask.”
His lips brushed her nipples, and they hardened in response. He blew on them, making them so hard and sensitive they ached. His hands traveled down from her breasts to her bikini panties and he slid them down her legs. She stood naked before him, admiring the broad expanse of his shoulders. He swept her up in his arms and she laughed in astonishment as he carried her to her bed. The moment she had waited for all these months finally arrived, and her skin tingled at the feel of his arms wrapped around her, drawing rivulets of exquisite joy down her spine. They tossed back the comforter. The scent of amber and myrrh floated in a cloud around them as lightning cracked outside her deck, brightening the bedroom for a moment before going dark. Sierra saw the after-image of Tibor’s intense face as the brightness faded, giving him a devilish countenance. He seemed less than human, more a personification of pure vigor and animal lust as he took her. Thunder crackled around them, and the smell of ozone mingled with the amber and myrrh. She rested a hand on Tibor’s bare chest only to feel a shock of static electricity jolt her out of her dream state. Sparks flew between them, literally and figuratively—little bolts of fairy light amid the darkness. Every grip of his hand to her arm, her breast, or her thigh exalted her, increasing her sensitivity to his touch.
His fingers found her sex and slid in without resistance. There was certainly no need for lube with him. She had been ready for him the moment she saw his beautiful nakedness. Moaning as she arched her back and stretched her legs, she closed her eyes while his fingers minueted inside her. The man knew just where to press and stroke to drive her into an erotic frenzy. Most men’s fingers manhandled her, leaving her sore and unsatisfied, but Tibor’s expert touch drove her into ecstasy. His thumb strummed her clit as he leaned over to kiss her left nipple. Wound so tightly she feared she’d burst, her climax came on more quickly than she expected. To her surprise, her long pent-up lust exploded and she thrashed beneath him, laughing with joy as she rode the crest of her own waves. His fingers didn’t stop or slow down once as her orgasm overtook her. She bucked and thrashed and then curled into a ball in his arms, moaning in ecstasy the entire time.
“You came very quickly.” Tibor said.
“Must be the company.”
“I hope you aren’t through yet.”
“Not a chance.”
“Good,” he said as he pulled away. “Because I have plans.”
She reached for him but he placed his index finger over her lips. He rose from the bed, grabbed the salad bowl, and returned to her side.
“Would you like to play?” he said in a teasing voice.
“Depends. What do you have in mind?”
“How about this?” He scooped a bit of fruit onto the spoon and dropped it onto over her right nipple. He did the same to her left nipple. The confection chilled her, and her nipples hardened at the cold. Tibor lowered his head and nibbled at the dragon fruit and blood orange slices a little at a time, not rushing his attention. He languished against her breasts, licking her right nipple and then her left, until she could have melted in a puddle beneath him. She took in a few deep breaths to overcome the rush of adrenaline that coursed through her body. She wanted to run with him, to free herself from the ordinariness of her days and enjoy the company of this delicious man.
She placed a hand on his shoulder to turn him over so she could give him the pleasure he was giving her, but he held his fingers against her lips again. Thunder crackled overhead as a torrent of rain battered her windows. The storm gave an urgency to their lovemaking, and she eagerly awaited his next move. Giving her a broad grin, he reached for the salad and fingered a lychee. He plopped it on her navel, and then ran it down her belly until it hovered over her pussy. The heat emanating from her sex warmed her entire body. Waves crashed against the rocks beyond her home as if ocean sprites encouraged her to lose herself in Tibor’s embrace. Cymopoleia, the Greek goddess of storms, spoke to her through the pummeling rain, telling her to let Tibor do whatever he wanted and to follow his lead.
Shadows cast on her ceiling from candlelight writhed and twisted in their erotic dance. She closed her eyes and relaxed her body, waiting for his next move. Cool fruit and sour cream chilled her pussy and thighs as Tibor dabbed more of the salad against her skin. Even though she knew what was coming, the moment his tongue touched her pussy lips she groaned with pleasure. He lapped at her folds, growing more intense with each lick. As he ate her out he moaned with delight, making her giggle. Ticklish, she writhed beneath him, but he held her fast by grasping her arms at her wrists and holding her in place. He worked his magic as he licked and sucked, and her heart raced with excitement. She wanted to get lost in her fever dream, to feel his tongue wrap around her soul, to feel him deep inside her, thrusting until she could take the pressure no longer. Waves crashed in time with the beat of her racing heart, and lightning shined upon his wild face, bringing forth the animal that lurked within. As she gazed into his eyes, an orgasm more powerful than her last shook her body. She gripped him tightly as she came, closing her eyes to take in the full effect of her climax.
She stood on the beach as the Nor’easter bellowed around her. Her legs weren’t wet although waves crashed about her as high as her calves, but she paid no mind to how odd that was. How did she get out here? Where was Tibor? Disoriented, she gazed into the storm. As she took a few steps into the surf, a lilting voice sang in the distance. That voice had lured ships and men to their deaths close to the rocks not far from shore. Norwich’s coastline claimed numerous shipwrecks, all drawn by the power of that seductive voice. It was especially dangerous to be at sea during a storm like this. Most ships waited out a Nor’easter, but this tempest hovered on the edge of mystery and enchantment. Lightning forked across the angry sky, casting a glow upon dark clouds flowing through a mist in the distance. Thunder crashed around her moments later, but she felt serene and safe knee-deep in water that didn’t drench her for some strange reason.
A hazy figure approached her through the mist. Fear tapped at her spine as it drew near. Should she turn around and leave? She turned and saw nothing but water surrounding her without land in sight. When did she drift so far from shore? She feared walking because she didn’t know which way led to land. She could walk further out to sea without knowing it and drown. Her head spun in confusion. Why was the water up to her waist? Her body rocked back and forth as the waves pummeled her. The opaque ocean hid monsters and sea serpents beneath its whitecaps, and Sierra’s heart thumped in terror.
The figure of a woman materialized through the mist two yards away, standing a full three feet taller than Sierra. She floated on the whitecaps as if she were a part of them. Seaweed hair blew about in the wind, braiding and unbraiding as it draped over her sharp shoulders. Scales covered the tops of her sea green arms and her full breasts. To Sierra’s astonishment, the woman had no navel, something that fascinated her in her dream state. This woman was not born. She was a child of the sea, and Sierra recognized her.
“Cymopoleia.” She whispered.
The woman opened her mouth and seawater and snails fell out. Her eyes blinked from side to side, not up and down as humans’ do. She extended one arm, hand outstretched in warning.
“Don’t let him leave
you tonight.” Her voice thundered like the rain, echoing in the mist.
“What?”
“Don’t let him leave you tonight. The ocean is a raging beast that will swallow him whole. It cares not for human emotion, want, or need. It takes what it wants.”
Apprehension crawled up Sierra’s spine. She knew better than to ignore Cymopoleia’s warning. The storm around her seemed more furious than what bellowed around her home. Where was she, and how did she get all the way out here surrounded by waist-deep water?
“Take heed of my words.” Caution colored the goddess’s voice. “Do not let him leave you tonight. That is my gift to you.”
Sierra awakened with a start, relieved to feel her cheek against her pillow. She patted her body to find it dry. Bed sheets cocooned her, damp only in her sweat and Tibor’s. She smelled his rugged scent beneath the tang of salt and surf.
“That must have been some dream.” Tibor said as he scratched her back.
“I fell asleep?” She curled into his fingers, relishing the feel of his nails across her skin.
“You passed out. You had the orgasm to end all orgasms and then you collapsed.”
“I’m sorry. I had no idea I fell asleep.”
“I took it as a complement. I must have had quite an effect on you for you to sleep so soundly. Did you know you snore?”
She sat up, thinking about what the goddess of storms had said to her. Sierra often honored and prayed to Cymopoleia, especially lately since it often rained, but she had never encountered the goddess before. Why this time of all times?
Lightning lit up her bedroom. The storm thundered around her. She looked at her clock to see numbers flash.
“The power’s back on.” She said. “We can turn on the lights.”
“I rather like watching you by candlelight. It’s more romantic.”
So he liked romance? It wasn’t all about fucking for him, something she had hoped was the case before he entered her home. The man danced with her, so he definitely enjoyed a magical aura to his relationships. He seemed to hail from another era, with the way he dressed, his manner of speech, and his dreamy way of enjoying their date.
“I had a strange dream.” Sierra said.
“A nightmare?” Tibor asked. “Want to tell me about it?”
“No, it’s okay. It wasn’t a nightmare. Just bizarre. I was standing in the middle of the ocean. I don’t remember much beyond that.” She didn’t want to discuss it with him. Telling him about it would make it seem too real.
“As long as you’re okay. I don’t want you to feel uneasy for any reason.”
“I don’t feel uneasy at all, especially with you around.” She kicked away the swaddling sheets and scooted backwards until she sat with her back against her headboard. “Enough about bad dreams. I want to know more about you. You’re from Budapest?” She asked.
“Yes. My family has lived there for generations.”
“So how did you end up in Massachusetts?”
“I work for an engineering company that sent me here for six months. I’m working at the American branch. It’s much different from Hungary.”
“I can imagine.” Her heart sank. Only six months? She’d already wasted two of those months dancing around him at the local Stop ‘n’ Shop. She needed to make the most of his remaining time in Norwich. “How do you like it here?”
“I love it. I bought a resident parking sticker so I may visit your beaches when it warms up.”
“It’s been very warm for this time of year. Have you been to the beach yet?”
“Yes, twice, but not to this beach. It’s beautiful here, even in the middle of a thunderstorm and a power outage.”
“Get use to the power outages. They happen a lot here during storms. We also get flooding and the occasional tornado.”
“I hope your lovely home doesn’t flood.”
“No, thank God. I’m elevated enough that the flood waters tend to go further away to the roads a couple of miles down the coast.”
“You mean Atlantic Road? I drove that way to get here. It’s the shortest route and it’s quite scenic.”
A flash of lightning illuminated her bedroom. Thunder rumbled outside, battering the clouds and crackling against the sky. Rain fell in steady sheets against her windows.
“I wish I could go to your beach now, but the weather won’t allow it,” he said.
“My deck is enclosed. We can sit out there if you like. Storms at sea are impressive.”
He rose naked from the bed and walked to the door to the deck. Candlelight enhanced his beautiful form, casting shadows against his flexing muscles. He was right—turning on the lights would cast too harsh a glare on their magical and romantic evening together. Candlelight set the right alluring mood.
He turned towards her and gave her a warm smile. “You can get the deck ready. I’ll get our champagne.”
In moments they stood on the deck and champagne bubbled in Sierra’s glasses. Thick pillar candles burned on every table, giving the room an enchanting glow. Tibor stood in front of her bookcase, holding a thick, leather-bound tome. He leafed through some pages. He held her family’s Book Of Shadows, spells her mother and grandmother had written. She swallowed hard, fearing his reaction to her truth. How much should she tell him? Although she knew little about him, she trusted him and wanted him to accept her for who she was.
“Interesting book. Is this a book of spells?” he asked.
This was as good a time as any to tell him about her family’s legacy. Nervous, she shifted from one foot to the other, hoping as she spoke that he would not grab his clothes and flee for her front door. “Yes, that’s a spell book. I inherited that book from my mother. She got it from my grandmother.” Although she feared he would scoff at her family’s legacy or—worse—reject her, she admitted the truth. “I practice ocean magic. My mother and grandmother taught me. We’re a family of witches.”
He paused, and she waited for the worst. “You’re a witch? I’ve never met a witch before.”
“I own a small Wiccan shop downtown and a second one in Salem.”
“Salem, where the women and one man accused of witchcraft were hanged?”
“Yes. Well, the women were hanged. Giles Corey was pressed to death. They were innocent, but now the city is full of witches. Its nickname is Witch City. There are occult shops all over the place there.” She smiled. “The irony is not lost on me.”
He put the book back into the bookcase. Although two Adirondack chairs stood directly behind her, he sat on the large wooden swing and then patted the seat next to him. She took the hint and raced to his side to sit down. He wrapped his arm around her as both of them sat naked taking in the storm that roared around them. Lightning flashed far out at sea, forks slamming the ocean’s surface.
“You can imagine I’m skeptical,” he said.
“I understand. It might be a bit hard to take in. I don’t cast curses or anything like that, though.”
“I figured if you did, you’d have good reason,” he said. “Do you cast spells?”
“Yes.”
He grinned. “Love spells?”
She grinned back. “Yes.”
“Did you cast one on me?”
“No.” It was the truth. “I did cast a few spells to make our evening memorable, though.”
“So that’s why your sheets smells so good. The perfume is a spell?”
“Yes. You smelled amber. Amber is associated with romance. There’s also myrrh but that’s a seasonal fragrance I like.”
“Your spell worked. This evening certainly has been magical.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “I approve.”
A sigh of relief burst from her lips. She leaned into his body, making herself comfortable. “I hoped you would.”
“So tell me about ocean magic.”
She fought for words, but they wouldn’t come. Then, she realized the best way to explain her gifts to him. “Rather than tell you, I’d like to show you.”
She stood and walked to the windows facing the ocean. Rain pelted the glass. “Don’t be alarmed by what you see. Ocean magic can be powerful. It’s a bit overwhelming the first time you see it.”
“I’m ready for anything,” he said. “I’d like to see what you have to offer. I’m fascinated.”
Good. He’s attentive. Now to hope this display doesn’t scare him to death. “Watch the ocean.” Lowering her head, she took a few deep breaths to clear her mind. As she arched her back she shook out her arms to relax them in preparation for what she was about to do. She reached out and placed her hands against the window. The coolness of the glass chilled her palms. Since Cymopoleia saw fit to speak to her in her dream, she chose to address the goddess. She muttered under her breath. “Oh, dearest Cymopoleia, goddess of storms, would you please be so kind as to come for a visit? Please show us your power, if you so wish.”
The air thickened around her, and a few candles blew out. Lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the roiling surface of the ocean. The water emitted a pale glow like seaglass catching sunlight several hundred yards out to sea, and soon grew in intensity as the light pulsed amid the waves. Churning as if caught in a mad boil, the water erupted as strange shapes rose from the depths. Sierra watched Tibor’s reflection in the glass as he rose from the swing. Her arms ached with the pressure of holding onto the window.
A mast rose from the deep, and then a second and third followed. Tattered sails bustled in the maelstrom as a ship grew out of the dark water. The galleon rocked on the angry sea, glowing the color of seafoam. Sparks jumped in a Saint Vitus Dance along the masts. The sound of wood creaking mixed with the roar of the wind. It was only fitting that Cymopoleia would reveal a ship she sank herself.
Tibor stood beside her, gaping at the spectacle. She turned briefly to see a look of astonishment and a little fear cross his rugged face.
