But my coven, and Violet’s cabal … we had an ancient alliance to honor. The first daughter of their Underboss would marry the first son of our High Priestess. And yeah, that first son was this fucking guy right here.
Ancient, traditional, total load of crap. I wanted power though, and money, and influence. I'd get all three of those things if I married Violet Enfer.
"Sounds good," I said, secretly searching out more spellcraft shops on my phone. There were a good two dozen in the immediate vicinity, although I already knew from my grandmother that the only one worth its weight in salt was Passionate Potions. "I've got that thing with the guys tonight," I said, glancing up and giving Vy my best shit-eating grin. "I'mma go home, get showered, that sort of thing. I always feel prettiest when I stink the least."
She frowned at me, her white horns curving up from her lavender-ash hair. I leaned down to kiss her on the lips, and she pursed them at me.
"Just don't get into any trouble with Angelina," she said, turning back to her assistant as I frowned. Angelina was my best friend--my very fucking gay best friend. She used to describe herself as so gay, a carpet salesman would ask me to ply his wares. Vy did not seem to get that.
If anything, it wasn't Angelina she should be worried about … it was the witch with the emerald eyes.
If I had my way though, I'd never lay mine on her again.
"Of all the arrogant, pigheaded buttwaffles," I growled as I stood on our back porch and watched Argent tending the garden. He hated doing it, cursed his entire way through it, but he was the only one in the family that was capable of actually keeping growing things alive. His silver faerie skin glowed in the evening dusk, and gave me butterflies. How in holy witch’s brew did I get lucky enough to snag a fae prince?
Well. That was a long story, and most definitely one for another day.
I had a baby on my hip which was not my usual M.O. Even after four kids, I wasn't really the ‘mommy-mom’ type, like I was the one that got stared at during daycare drop-off for having too short of a skirt, or too many tattoos. That was me, always the weirdo.
"Your son cast a new spell today," Spec said, moving silently up behind me and wrapping his arms around both me and the twin I was snuggling. Did it make me a bad mom that I couldn't tell the two kids apart sometimes? One was a boy and one was a girl, but since I didn’t really pay much attention to gender stereotypes, I dressed them in matching outfits. Only way to tell them apart was when changing a diaper.
"What kind of spell?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder at my oldest son. When he was first born, we weren't sure which of my three husbands was the biological father, but then he bit the family dog and drank her blood, so … it was pretty much confirmed. Definitely Spec’s son. The dog is okay, too, by the way—he just doesn't let the kids pet him anymore.
"He lit the curtains in his room on fire," Spectre said, chuckling low under his breath. I raised both brows, but I wasn't really all that surprised. Fire spells were common for young witches, especially those born with heaps of natural power. And our kids, they were fully loaded.
"Good learning opportunity?" I asked as my daughter (or son, whichever) smacked me in the face and giggled maniacally about it. As soon as the twins were born, it was obvious that Caine was their dad—they came out in wolf form, much to my chagrin. The midwife looked like she was going to lose her shit.
"Good remodeling opportunity," Spectre corrected with a small sigh, watching Argent curse and stab frustratedly at the earth. One of the plants in the row behind him reared up and bit him in the ass. I chuckled, but then realized how close and how quiet Spectre was behind me. When I turned to look at him, I could tell we were about to have a serious moment.
"Are you okay?" he asked me, which I knew was coming.
Immediately, I flicked my eyes to the side and held the baby just a little bit closer.
Was I okay?
My hard-hat exterior, tough-as-nails bitch side wanted to say that hell yeah, I was. If that stupidly muscular, tattooed prick didn't want to join our family or at least get to know us, then I didn't want him in my life.
And yet … the empathetic softie inside of me was crying. She was throwing a full-on tantrum in my heart, flinging herself to the floor and beating her fists on the ground. My first three husbands, as soon as I saw them, it was love at first sight. Swear on the gods above and below, it was instant. Our romances were enchanting, awe-inspiring, destined. And now, after years of waiting and dreaming, I got this? A motorcycle riding prick with a bad attitude … and a gorgeous, chiseled jaw.
Fuuuuuck.
"You can tell me," Spec said, and I felt his aura sweeping over me. Oftentimes, when a vampire rolled someone, the sensation was overwhelmingly unpleasant, a violation that could break a person's spirit. But between lovers, it was like a caress. "Say whatever you need to say, and then I'm wiping away the pain for the rest of the night."
Spec carefully moved some red hair off my forehead, the cool brush of his fingertips making me shiver. I felt suddenly like I very much needed to put the baby down. Having hard nipples and wet panties with a drooling werewolf child in my arms … not cool.
As if he could smell my arousal … oh, wait, he could smell my arousal, Caine swooped in and took the kid from my arms, pressing a hot kiss to my mouth before he stepped away again. What was meant to be a simple peck quickly turned feral, and I felt his growl rumble up from his chest and into my body.
"We don't need an inked-up, motorcycle riding prick in this family, suge," Caine growled in his honey-and-molasses Southern accent, biting my lip and yanking on it with his teeth as he stepped back. When he let go, I almost swooned and fell right into his arms.
No wonder we had four kids already.
"Why?" I asked, all breathy and swaying. "Because we already have one?"
"Damn straight," Caine said, his gold eyes flashing bright. He was once a member of a werewolf pack known as Citrine Sunrise, but they'd had the good grace to realize his witch side was just as strong as his wolf, and they'd released him into my care. So far as the werewolf community was concerned, I was Caine’s alpha female, and he was my alpha male.
"Go put your daughter to bed," I told him as he smirked and gave Spectre a very triumphant male glance over my shoulder. My husbands liked to team up on me, see how horny and pissed-off they could get me before I stormed off and took care of my needs myself. They always managed to stop just short of me locking myself in the bathroom. Dickheads. Caine took off, bouncing the baby in his arms as she reached up to tug at his shaggy blonde hair; I turned back to Spectre with a smirk. "Now where we were?"
"I was about to put you on one of those Adirondack chairs and fuck you,” Spec explained with a shrug, reaching up to run inked fingers through his dark purple hair. Paired with his lavender eyes, pale skin, and the white hoops pierced through his eyebrow and the center of his lip, he was very much the bad boy rockstar that I’d always wanted.
I was one seriously lucky witch.
Did I mention that I also had tats? Yep, I was a mom with ink. Nothing wrong with that: I was only thirty-two, I wasn't dead yet. I still wanted to wear short-shorts, and shirts with offensive slogans on them … and I still wanted to be fucked in a lawn chair by my vampire husband.
The smile that lit my face was so wide and bright, it could probably be seen from space.
Spectre slid his palms down my bare arms, making me shiver. As I studied him, I took note of his neck tats peeking up above the collar of his black shirt. Because a vampire's body treated normal tattoos like any other wound, and tried to heal them, he'd had to be tattooed in blood with a special wooden needle made of mountain-ash wood. Looking at him now, I could remember in carnal detail the first time I worshiped every single mark on his body.
"If you two are going to do it," Argent said, making me jump as he appeared on my right side. His charcoal gray eyes were half-lidded, and he looked at the two of us like he very much wanted to play
along. "Then I'm going in the house and starting dinner. Maybe I can get the vegetables cut before you're done."
"Are you implying that I don't last long?" Spec purred, giving Argent a cold look, his lavender eyes catching the dying light of evening. Our yard backed up to a nature preserve, so there were no neighbors to peep over the fence and watch our interaction, just the gentle sound of birds and the early hoot of a hungry owl. "Because I can recall a record fifteen second fuck that—"
"She wanted that fifteen second fuck," Argent said, throwing out a silver arm in my direction. I often described his skin as the color of moonlight. Some people looked at me like I was nuts, but anyone with an imagination knew what I was talking about. Argent quite literally glowed, his fae blood reacting to the witch blood in his DNA, turning him into a walking lantern. It took actual effort on his part to dim the glow, something he didn't bother doing when we were home alone as a family. He equated it to taking off your bra after work. Something a lady with, uh, larger breasts such as myself could relate to. Shit, I wasn’t wearing one now, and my nipples were quite obvious through the fabric of my black tank.
"I do like quickies," I admitted, pushing the two men apart, one palm on either chest, "but can we discuss my sexual preferences at a later time? I want to get nailed on this chair, kiss my babies goodnight, and then start researching who the hell our asshole of a soulmate is."
"He can kiss the pavement for all I care," Argent said, scowling and squeezing past us with a bunch of fresh carrots clutched in his palm. From the beginning, Argent had never been into adding extra men into our family. I'd started dating him first, but ended up in a twisted love triangle with him and Caine. Spec … had come later, and Argent had been pissed as hell about it all. "I hope he dies in a motorcycle accident and gets reborn—then maybe we'll have a palatable soulmate."
Argent moved into the house and slammed the French doors closed behind him, making the glass panes shake. If he'd broken my custom stained glass window inserts (they had stacks of old books and black roses on them), there'd have been hell to pay.
"What was his name?" Spectre asked me, drawing my attention back around. I glanced from the French doors back to his face, trying to blink myself out of my thoughts. "This guy you met today."
"I have no idea," I said, reaching up to brush some hair from my forehead. Autumn had arrived in Washington in full force, but despite the chilly air and swirling leaves, I was soaked in sweat. "All I know is that he rides a late model Harley with a custom paint job, is sporting some seriously dope ink, and was in desperate need of an erectile dysfunction spell."
"Mm," Spec said, stepping close enough that I could feel that he was in no need of an E.D. spell. "I think you neglected to tell me that bit earlier. I suppose if he can't get it up, Argent will feel less threatened by him." Spectre leaned down and put his lips against my neck, licking that special spot that always made me go weak at the knees when he bit me. "Now, where were we in our chair fucking experiment?"
"Always best to see if they can hold up to normal wear and tear," I whispered as Spec grazed me with his teeth. "You know, before the warranty is up and all."
"Exactly," he whispered, and then he bit me.
Pleasure arced through me, from my shoulders down to my fingers and toes. I curled my fists in his shirt as he walked us back until my calves hit the edge of the chair. I crumpled into it, dragging him down with me as he moved his bloodied mouth from my neck to my lips, claiming me with a single kiss.
With Spec on top of me, I could smell not only his wet dirt witch scent, but that sweet, crisp apple smell that marked him as a vampire. Apparently, it was an evolutionary adaptation, to make such a dangerous predator smell so damn good.
We kissed like frantic teenagers, my fingers digging into the silky strands of his hair. It was like we couldn't get enough of each other—and I hoped we never would. His mouth tasted like my own blood, and his heart beat so frantically that I could feel it against my own chest.
"Shirts off," I murmured, wondering if this was breaking our ten minute rule. If any of the kids were up, and we had shit to do, we could have quickies so long as they were ten minutes or less and we didn't take our clothes off.
Also, we never, ever followed that rule, soooo …
Spec sat up, tearing his shirt off and chucking it aside. He helped me out of mine next, palming one of my breasts in his inked hand and bringing my nipple to his lips. He bit the flesh around it before sucking on the sensitive pink nub, swirling his tongue in a circle and soothing away any residual pain from the bite.
I reached between us, unbuttoning and unzipping my denim short-shorts, so Spectre could work them down my hips. He kissed his way along my collar bone, between my breasts, down my belly. And he didn't stop either. What I expected to be just a quickie turned into something so much better.
"I love when you go commando under these fucking things," he murmured, sliding his palms down my bare sides, over all of that ink I'd acquired over the years. Spells were woven into every line, every shadow, every highlight. I could bring down an army with the power inked into my flesh.
Spectre worshiped my tattoos, running his tongue down a broomstick decorated with charms, moving his lips to a witch's hat, grazing his teeth across the portrait of my familiar. I writhed in his arms, naked under a silver sky. It was darkening at the edges, but for now, I could still see the black fingers of leafless trees reaching up toward the moon.
I bit my lower lip, lifting my arms up to latch onto the back of the chair. I needed it, for moral support. Spec was teasing me, kissing his way over the red hair between my thighs, flicking his tongue mercilessly across my clit, and then making a run for it with his mouth by moving to less sensitive areas.
Swear on the goddess Hecate's full, ripe breasts: I was about to freaking murder him.
"Spec," I whined, as he breathed hot warm air across my inner thigh and made me squirm. There was a little tattoo there, just for him—an imprint of a beautiful mouth. I'd had Spectre kiss a piece of tracing paper with black lipstick on, so the tattoo artist could get an imprint. "Come—" I started, but I couldn't get another witching word out.
Spectre bit me in the thigh, plunging his sharp teeth into my femoral artery, sucking blood up through the wound as he swished his tongue against the bite. I grabbed onto his head with my right hand, digging my fingers into his scalp and pushing him against me. He drank deeper, harder, more, until I was swooning.
"Get up here," I growled out, and I swear I heard Bast laugh from the bushes behind me.
"That's my girl," she purred, slinking off with the rustling of foliage. Half-witches weren't often born with familiars which, of course, meant none of my husbands had one … so my poor pussy didn't get much tail herself. Get it? Pussy? Tail? I'm so damn punny.
Spectre sat up, running his tongue across the shimmery ruby red on his lower lip. He lifted up over me as I dropped my hands to his leather pants, tearing the button off so vigorously that it popped right up and hit me in the eye.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" I groaned as Spec held back a laugh.
"Oh, Graceley," he said, his voice stuck in this strange half-limbo between a sultry purr and a chuckle. "Are you okay?" I moved my hand away from my eye, blinked out some of the blurriness, and nodded. It was getting dark out, so I snapped my fingers and all two dozen jack-o’-lanterns on the porch railing lit up in an instant. There, that was better: now I knew Spec was still getting a kick out of my clumsiness. He was seriously going to have to pay for that.
"I'm still horny, and you're not getting out of this," I murmured as he laughed again, tousling up my red hair before he kissed me, and I helped him free his erection from his pants. I teased him with my hand for a moment, sliding my thumb over the tip and tickling him with my fingers. The head of his shaft was moist with pre-cum, so I used it to give him a few, slick pumps.
Spectre growled at me, this low, awful sound that was so unlike the noises Caine m
ade, almost as if it they were otherworldly. I never thought I'd befriend a vampire, let alone fuck, marry, and breed with one. Now that I'd gotten a taste though, I couldn't imagine living without one.
Or maybe just … not without him.
"I love you, Spec," I whispered as he nuzzled my neck. He paused for a moment and then lifted up to look me in the eyes, lavender staring into green.
"I love you, too, Grace." And then he thrust hard and deep, filling me. My back arched off the wooden chair as he began to thrust, dropping his mouth to my neck and biting hard. He drank from me, and fucked me at the same time. It pleased me to no end to be both food and sex for him.
I loved it.
We rocked that poor chair so hard that I must attest to how well-built the damn thing was. Excellent. Totally writing a review on Amazon later.
Spectre cupped my breast with one hand, held me close with the other, and fucked me into the chair so hard that I knew I'd have splinters later. I didn't care. I wrapped my legs around him and cradled him close, my muscles clamping around his shaft until he came inside of me with a groan and a series of small bites to my throat.
He moved his hand between us, used the liquid from our lovemaking to slick up my clit, and worked me until I came, too.
And then, as I was panting, wrapped in the dying light of evening, and the hot warmth of my lover's arms … the chair fucking broke and we fell onto the deck.
Okay, yep.
Definitely time to write a review: Not Good for Quickies with the Hubby while the Babies Sleep! Three stars, for sure.
But at least the sex … the sex was five.
I hit ten stores—ten fucking stores—and I couldn't find a single one that had what I needed. Not only was that seriously fucking annoying, but I also had to explain to every single shopkeep asshole what I was looking for. And of course, they nailed it after I mentioned the crystallized petals. “Oh, you got a broken dick then?” Please.
The Family Spells: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance Page 2
