Cantrips: Volume #1: Minor Magics Crafted to Amuse and Entertain

by Joey W. Hill

  It happened too fast. She came to an abrupt stop, shuddering hard. “I can’t…I’m going to come…help…”

  The hook and plug were removed, and she was lifted, right onto the dais. She’d reached it, and hadn’t even realized it. His hand was on her neck, pushing her down to her elbows like before. She wanted to spread her legs for him, make it clear she’d give him anything she wanted, no matter how crazy that would have sounded a few hours ago. But he left the hobbles on. Her elbows were folded beneath her like a bird, such that she needed his hands on her hips to steady her. The press of something much bigger than that plug reined her back—just slightly—from that precipitous edge.

  “The condom is lubed up thick, Celeste. Push against me, and I’ll take care of the rest. It’ll hurt, but it will be the kind of pain you’ll love. Trust me. You’ve got it in you. You want the bad girl punished, so you can let the rest go.”

  She pushed against him, gasping, afraid, needy, her body shaking with all of it. Incredible arousal, nerves, pleasure, fear of pain, fear of the emotions he’d unlocked in her, but it didn’t matter. It was a tornado of response, and she could only ride it. There was no control anymore.

  Now she understood what she’d glimpsed earlier. He’d given her the key with his words. It wasn’t about him controlling her. It was about finding someone to trust enough to let this part of her go, experience pleasure, pain, joy and sorrow as they were meant to be felt…

  She pushed against him, hard, and he slid in, at least partly. Holy fuck. Maybe he was the size of that baseball bat dildo he’d had. At least that was how it felt. That heated oil was still doing its thing, however, making her impossibly willing to lift her hips with the pressure of his strong hands, adjust back and forth, back and forth, taking him a little deeper, a little deeper…

  She pressed her head hard to the mat, her mouth open on a long, drawn out cry, gasping for air. He dropped over top of her then, and she knew he was as far as he was going to go for the moment. She couldn’t take all of him, but what she had she’d serve well. She clenched around him, knowing he liked that, and was rewarded by a warm breath on her shoulder, his hand closing over hers on the mat as the other stayed in a hard grip on her hip.

  “Good girl. You just hang on for the ride.”

  That brief, intimate touch, and then he’d straightened behind her, both hands back on the wheel, so to speak. Easy slide out, then back in, and she lifted up to him, strangling on another sound of guttural pleasure.

  “Beautiful. You’re so good and tight. I’ll bet that pussy of yours is just dripping.” His fingers left her hip to explore and she jerked, taking him another inch deeper. “There we go. You’re a fighter, Celeste. Let that passion out. Take what you want. Don’t be afraid to open up because of what some asshole took from you long ago.”

  Her breath shuddered out, her throat closing up tight, but something else exploded in her heart, a painful jailbreak from her hard-edged façade, shields that were just a way to keep herself from what she really wanted, really desired.

  She would have shoved herself to the hilt against him right then, pushing against the mat, but his hands gripped her hips tight and held her. His dark chuckle made her pussy cream. She wiggled, wanting to get close enough to rub herself on him, mark him.

  “There she is, the fighter. But I won’t let you hurt yourself. We do it together.”

  Putting his fingers back on her wet pussy, he began to flex those capable digits, smearing the cream and the heated oil together, swirling, dipping into her cunt, teasing and making her jerk, lift, adjust, adjust, and then he was there, pelvis flush against her ass, so she could rub her wet pussy against his balls. He had the slacks down to his thighs, and she wished she could see him, though she knew that wasn’t going to happen. This wasn’t about the baring of his soul, but of hers. He was leaving her no choice but to accept those terms.

  “Now, then.” He dropped down over her again, arms on either side of hers, holding her under his body, his thighs firm against the inside of hers. “I fuck you the way I want. If you ask me nicely. Can you ask me nicely, Celeste?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. His hands were too widely spaced for her hobbled hands to reach one and close around his wrist the way she wanted, but she could turn her head toward his biceps and press her lips there, giving him the edge of her teeth through the dress shirt. “Yes, sir. Fuck me the way you want. Please.”

  “You bet your ass I will.” He lifted his hips, just a slight amount, then went back in, making her shudder.

  “God…” she breathed, as he did it again. And again.

  In no time, the strokes started to get longer, deeper, more powerful. It hurt, holy hell it hurt, but it seemed to catch that oil on fire. She was begging to come, and he just kept on going, pummeling her ass, somehow holding it out of reach by only touching her now and again to keep her hot and bothered, to keep the pleasure balancing the pain. She’d dug her fingers into the mat and was biting his arm. Tears were rolling down her face, and her mind centered on only one thing. Fuck me… Fuck me into oblivion…yes…

  His upper body rippled against her, all that fine muscle tensing. “Yes…please, sir. Come.”

  He did, working himself even harder against her, his arm banding around her waist to hold her fast. With his strength, she was sure he would have broken her bones otherwise. She reveled in his harsh grunts against her ear, the sound of him taking his pleasure with her ass, in her subjugation to him. In this moment, she knew she’d given him pleasure and was all his.

  It was a startling, darkly pleasurable revelation. The desire to be possessed by another like this, the willingness to give her soul as well as her body to him. An elixir from the Heavens that would be worth it to find, not only from a man willing to give his body to her as Ben just had, but his heart as well.

  “Your turn, bad girl.” His fingers returned to her clit and started to manipulate. What he’d held out of reach from her came rushing back like a freight train. He stayed still inside her, still hard and pulsing, and gave her the ruthless command. “Squeeze down on me, like before. Your pussy, too. Clench it like my cock is there. Keep doing it.”

  She came in a matter of seconds, screaming in a high, thin pitch she’d never heard from herself, having never reached that height before. It was even more intense this second time, more dense somehow. She didn’t care if it unbalanced her, she reached out with both hobbled hands to grab one of his thick wrists and hold on for dear life. She was screaming “No” and “help” and “please”, all the while never wanting it to end, as much a contradiction as the sensations of pain and pleasure together.

  When at last the universe stopped spinning, she was still gasping, like she’d finished a marathon and stopped too soon. She was dizzy, aching, disoriented. She was holding onto his wrist like she might fall off a cliff if she let go, her body contorted, shoulder pressed to the mat.

  “Here, there. Easy, girl.” He was pulling out of her, and she whimpered. “Just like the probe. A little at a time. It will come out on its own. The muscles are still spasming. Jesus, it feels good. I could fuck you all night.”

  “I wouldn’t survive it. You’d be faced with a murder charge. Valerie does know where I am.” Her words were slurred like she was drunk. “Help. Feels…weird.”

  “It will. Just give everything time to return to normal.”

  Her fingers clenched over his wrist. “Don’t want that.”

  He stilled, then he was around her again, his hand sliding under her cheek against the mat. He used it and his other arm to turn her into a more ergonomic position, bringing her back up onto hands and knees, though he kept his one hand on her face so she could continue to rest her cheek in his palm. Like a bird. So trusting, so safe.

  Even more remarkably, he leaned in and pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, brushing her cheek. “That’s your choice, Celeste. To walk out of here different from how you walked in. Only you can take that choice away from yourself.”r />
  It loosened things low in her belly. When he removed the blindfold with a quiet, “Keep your eyes forward for now,” he went back to working himself carefully out of her backside. She tried to hold onto him with those muscles, her pussy rippling, more warm fluid from her climax trickling down her inner thighs.

  “Still a bad girl.” He gave a soft snort. All the way out now, he moved his hands down to her sides, her thighs, holding her still as he backed off enough to give her even more pleasure. She made a soft noise as he licked the come away, his tongue teasing slick flesh. “You should let a lover enjoy your cunt more often. It’s hungry for a man to fill it.”

  A comment that would have earned a scathing retort from her a few hours earlier, but now she understood what was behind it. He wasn’t mocking her.

  As he took off the hobbles, bending over her, the door opened. She saw a female club attendant with towels, lotions and other things she was sure were intended to help her put herself back together. When Ben knelt beside Celeste, a balancing arm still around her waist, her gaze lifted to his face for the first time since he’d walked her across the room to this epic finale.

  The green eyes showed the simmering remains of the lust he’d expended, his expression attentive. In one sweeping glance, she knew he’d evaluated her condition and would give the attendant instructions to make sure she was cared for properly. He didn’t leave unfinished details. But he wouldn’t be doing the aftercare himself, and not because he was lazy.

  She wanted to touch his face, but remembered how he’d reacted to that earlier. Despite the intimate pose, she could feel more emotional distance between them now that it was over. Even though the knowledge of what she’d revealed about herself was in his expression, and she felt that was safe with him, she realized he hadn’t offered her more. This wasn’t part of that.

  “She’ll be really, really lucky.” If she has way more reckless courage than I have. Than most women have.

  “Who?” He raised a brow.

  “Whoever you finally trust to give your heart.”

  “I can say the same for the Master who convinces you to belong to him.”

  “Oh…well.” She was going to say this was a unique experience, that it was Ben’s particular skill that had taken her down this path, that she really wasn’t into any of it…that she might be just as distrustful and suspicious of men tomorrow, no matter how fervently she wished she could hold onto the magic of this room. Instead, she decided she was going to have to think long and hard about all of this before she figured it out. “About the tape. I think…”

  “That’s yours to do with as you wish. We’ll talk in a bit. Let Lainie put you back together. She’ll make things hurt less. You follow her direction the way you’d follow mine. No lip. Or I’ll be back.”

  He gave her a direct look, a warning pinch of thumb and forefinger on her chin, and she couldn’t help the tears that filled her eyes, an odd contrast to the smile that trembled across her lips, the sassy tilt to her brow. “Yes, O Lord and Master.”

  He smiled back, a gesture that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but was still an obvious appreciation of her spirit. “I’ll give a thousand dollars to your favorite charity if you call me that in front of Matt and the others.”

  “One time?”

  He pursed his lips. “Too much to hope you’d do it all the time. Yeah. One time.”

  “Deal.”

  §

  He was right about Lainie’s skills. She used all sorts of lotions, oils and soft towels to bring Celeste back to a semblance of reality, a pleasurable grounding that included a brief hot tub experience, a full massage by a male staff member with hands straight from the gods, and then two other female attendants helped her dress, do her hair, and make her look better than she had when she’d come in. She had to hand it to Ben—he didn’t overlook a single thing. Torture a girl, give her a couple mindboggling orgasms, then the spa experience of her life. If all five men were like this, no wonder women couldn’t keep a brain cell intact around them. It wasn’t their fault. Who could resist sorcery like this?

  Her body was relaxed, her mind spinning in slow, thoughtful circles. He’d given her every chance to re-don her armor. Clothes, hair, makeup all in place. He could have taken the tape from her at a weak moment, but he’d dismissed that option, making it clear it was entirely up to her, out of his hands. When Lainie brought Celeste her purse from the locker area, the tape case was on top of it. “Thank you for visiting the club, ma’am.”

  Nodding, Celeste made her way back to the main club level. She wouldn’t have been surprised to find Ben gone—wasn’t sure if she hoped for that, given her uncertain state of mind—but there they all were. Still sitting at the VIP table. Her lower belly quaked. She had come a hundred eighty degrees from the beginning of the night, and she had a lot to digest to decide how it changed things. Not just in her attitude toward them, which was really the least of it. Ben had changed her attitude about herself, what she wanted.

  She could just leave, but in some way, she realized that would be running from what she’d learned about herself in that room. Clinging to what she’d been before, and she’d told Ben she didn’t want that. That she wanted to be different. She was a kickass reporter, and she didn’t run from the truth. Particularly the truth about herself. Just as Valerie had said.

  A fighter. But that fight doesn’t have to be with myself. At least not tonight. She had no illusions that her doubts, fears and insecurities from her less-than-ideal childhood would vanish from one night of over-the-top sex. But Ben had opened a door she didn’t think could be unlocked, and shown her a path she hadn’t known was there. It would take time to determine if she wanted to step over the threshold. It was her choice. Always her choice.

  Straightening her back, she walked to the VIP section. She was prepared to say whatever was necessary to gain entrance, but the attendant merely nodded to her, removed the velvet rope barricade and gestured up the steps. “Mr. O’Callahan said he’d be pleased if you’d join them for a drink.” The man’s lips twitched. “He said he will require the proper password when you get there.”

  Celeste suppressed a snort. Yeah, trust him not to forget that little detail. She made her way up the stairs. It had gotten late, so except for a couple of tables, the K&A men pretty much had the upstairs to themselves. With every step she felt like bolting. Yes, she was an accomplished reporter. She was also a woman who’d just had the most earth-shattering carnal episode of her life, and was approaching the man—and men—who were behind it.

  It startled her, but also made her smile, when they all rose as she approached the table. That gentlemanly courtesy she’d sneered at earlier now gave her butterflies…the good kind. It helped settle things a little, as did the mischief in Ben’s eyes as he met hers. The smug bastard. She almost meant it affectionately. She cleared her throat.

  “Thanks for the full spa treatment… O Lord and Master.”

  He grinned, that devastating expression that made him utterly irresistible. “You haven’t smuggled in a gun, have you? Peter’s pretty sure that’s how I’ll meet my end, by a woman shooting me.”

  “How very insightful of him.” She glanced over to see Peter flash a smile. The K&A operations manager was also a National Guard captain who’d done a couple tours in the Middle East. He looked like a military man, with his bulging biceps, steady gray eyes and short cropped hair. But what she noticed even more than that was that his smile wasn’t smug. None of the men looked that way. Their expressions weren’t supercilious or I-told-you-so at all. She detected something far more unbalancing. Simple kindness, even somewhat protective, as if they’d expected her to feel a bit off balance and wanted to make her feel at ease. It didn’t feel wrong, like they were undermining her own strength—just ready to supplement it if needed.

  “You can keep using that title if you like,” Ben suggested. “It sounds good on your lips.” His gaze lingered there, bringing her the immediate recollection of her kneeling, her
mouth stretched by his cock.

  “Once was the deal. Ask again, and I will find a gun.” Clearing her throat, she pivoted toward Matt Kensington. The CEO was giving her that same attentive look as the others, but there was always a different quality to it with him, something that made it clear he was the leader of the group. “You took a pretty big risk.”

  “Public opinion is a false god, Ms. De Mille. The only thing that matters is honoring the truth. I’ve seen that quality in your writing. I hope your editor has the good sense to let you nurture it.” He nodded to the tape in her hand. “That is yours to do with as you will, with no influence by me or mine. And you may be assured that what’s on it is something that won’t be discussed outside this circle. Not now, not ever. We don’t impugn a woman’s reputation, though I think I speak for all of us in saying whatever’s on that tape is something any man of worth would admire and want to have for his own.”

  “You guys really are medieval.” It took her a moment to find the words, but when she did, she noted the creasing around his eyes, a near smile, showing he wasn’t offended. Of course, she’d expected him to take it as a compliment. The surprise was that she meant it as one. She extended a hand. “In the future, if I use the name I gave you…I’ll mean it differently. Or, if you prefer, I won’t use it again.”

  Matt took her hand, closing strong fingers over it. He had dark brown eyes and dark hair, the beauty of his Italian mother mixed with the powerful ruggedness of his Texan oil rancher father. When he shook his head, his brown eyes glinted with a tender humor. “My wife is quite fond of it. As well as the other women of our family. They enjoy teasing us with it.”

  “Though my girl Dana actually prefers ‘Outdated Neanderthals,’” Peter offered. “If you want to switch it up sometime.”

  She chuckled. “Someday I’m going to ask for an interview with your wives.”