Bewitch Me - A Halloween Collection

by Rede, Lily

  “Hold yourself open for me, baby,” he muttered, and Jane hesitantly spread her folds as Wes pushed her thighs further apart and then slid two fingers into her slit, his cock throbbing as he worked his way into the tight sheath.

  “Sweet.”

  He finger-fucked her slowly, taking his time, letting her get used to the thickness of his fingers as he kept her on edge with his mouth.

  “God, Wes – I need more,” Jane begged.

  “Can you take three fingers?” asked Wes, breathless, and took her shocked whimper and the way she thrust against his chin as assent.

  Carefully, he eased a third finger into her clenching sheath, stretching her, and barely had the third digit buried in her hot pussy when she was shuddering into orgasm. Wes drew her clit back into his mouth and sucked, triggering a second climax on the heels of the first, and Jane screamed his name as her thigh pressed tightly against his cheek. Panting, she slumped, and Wes held her up, resting his cheek against her abdomen, nuzzling her little navel as Jane stroked his hair.

  “I want you inside me,” she whispered, and Wes pressed a soft kiss against the curve of her stomach before rising to his feet.

  “I want that, too, baby.”

  He started unbuttoning her blouse, feeling uncoordinated and dumb as the lacy bra came into view. He fumbled with the last few buttons. Jane chuckled and shrugged the fabric off her shoulders, and then let him unhook the front closure of her bra, her full breasts bouncing into view, the rosy nipples tight and eminently suckable.

  “Cold?” he asked.

  “No,” breathed Jane, “I probably should be.”

  Wes cupped her breasts, stroking the tight nipples.

  “Trust me?”

  Jane only hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. Wes tugged her nipples lightly in approval, and Jane gasped.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Indulge your naughty inner pervert,” he smirked, turning her around.

  JANE GASPED AS WES gripped her waist and she felt her feet leave the ground. They levitated up to the little window, and Jane let out a moan as Wes pressed her tight nipples against the cold metal. Suddenly naked, he settled behind her at the perfect height to rub his cock against her ass.

  “Now, I told you that the magical community has fewer hang-ups about sex than humans do. I would never make you participate if you’re not comfortable with that, but since you seem to enjoy watching…”

  He kissed her shoulder and guided her face to the window.

  “Watch them while I take you, Jane,” he growled.

  Jane was shocked. And aroused. Did she want this?

  Oh, yeah.

  Wes spread her legs and Jane was surprised to find that they stayed where he put them, suspended wide in the air, opening her folds. Her pussy was as hot and greedy for him as though she hadn’t come like a rocket a few minutes ago. Wes snuggled the hot head of his dick against her opening.

  “We need a condom,” said Jane.

  “No, we don’t. You’re protected, baby. Trust me, remember?”

  Jane nodded, pressing her hands against the door as Wes started pushing in, so big and so hot. She bit her lip at the sensation as he slowly filled her.

  “Watch, Jane. Tell me what you see. What you like.”

  Jane tried to focus, nearly impossible as the thick flesh impaled her, so turned on she could barely think. Sex with That Cheating Bastard had been not bad at best. This was on a whole different scale. A Wes Proctor scale. Epic. Off the charts. She noticed he’d stopped moving, halfway in.

  “Wes!”

  She wriggled and he groaned, but grabbed her hips to hold her steady.

  “I want to hear you, Jane. Talk to me.”

  Jane bit her lip and turned her attention to the orgy going on in the kitchen. Her eyes lit on an erotic tableau playing out on a metal prep table.

  “There’s a…woman. Voluptuous. She’s on her knees. Her wrists are tied above her and it looks like her thighs are tied, too. Are those wings?”

  “Pixie,” informed Wes, and he jerked his hips, embedding his cock to the hilt.

  Jane cried out, and he soothed her, his hands drifting up to cup her breasts, warming her nipples with his palms.

  “What’s she doing?” he murmured, his voice a rough growl in her ear.

  “There’s a…a warlock in front of her. He’s licking her breasts. And behind her…a satyr?”

  “Satyrs have incredibly large cocks,” said Wes helpfully, and nipped her earlobe as he started to thrust, slow and deep, as though he had all the time in the world.

  As though he wasn’t driving me out of my freaking mind.

  “He’s taking her,” said Jane, caught up in the visual and the hard press of Wes in and around her, “Oh my God, Wes, he’s huge. He’s taking her ass! How is that possible?”

  Wes laughed, but it was strained, and she felt the power of his thrusts increase, his balls slapping against her with every surge and retreat. It felt incredible, and Jane realized that she could give him this. He was willing to give up the exhibitionist side of his world for her. In exchange, she could fuel his fantasy life from time to time, and her own. Jane let her voice get breathy, her tone seductive.

  “The warlock is standing on the table now. God, look at that cock. It’s almost as big as yours. He’s pressing it against her lips. She’s opening her mouth. Mmm…she’s sucking it. That looks like fun. Maybe we should try that, what do you think?”

  Wes growled behind her, and suddenly, Jane felt the stroke of invisible fingers on her clit, milking in time with each thrust, while his big hands stroked and kneaded her breasts, and then Jane was coming, hurled over the edge. Wes followed her over, filling her up, bathing them both in the hot wash of his seed that overflowed to dampen her thighs. Wes collapsed against her back, panting.

  “Son of a bitch,” he muttered.

  “Wes, my legs,” said Jane.

  Kinky was all well and good, but she was starting to cramp.

  “Oh, yeah,” said Wes, and brought them back down to the ground to lean against the shelves.

  Jane snuggled against him, sated and exhausted and content for the first time in a long while. Now that they were post-coital, Jane started to notice the chill.

  “I don’t suppose you can zap us back to your place?” she asked, and Wes chuckled.

  “Zapping with humans can be a little tricky, and you’ve got me a little worn out, baby.”

  “Then I should probably put some clothes on,” said Jane, but made no move to get up, her hands learning the hard ridges of muscle and reaching lower to pet his cock and squeeze the tight muscles of his ass.

  WES LOVED IT.

  But his little mortal was developing goosebumps, and the thought of clothes irritated him.

  He focused for a minute, and with a POP, a comfortable mattress complete with thick down bedding appeared on the ground between the shelves.

  “Nice,” said Jane and hopped up to investigate, burrowing under the covers with a sigh of bliss.

  Wes joined her, pleased when she snuggled close again, her chilly little body warming up quickly. He yawned.

  “We’re doing everything backwards, you know,” he said, and yawned again, “we’re supposed to save the really kinky stuff until later.”

  “Does it matter?” asked Jane, half asleep.

  “Sure. Dating, then sex, then crazy sex, then you move in with me, then we get married, more sex, a few witchlings. There’s like a whole list. I’ll show you.”

  Jane roused herself, propping her arms on his chest to look down into his face.

  “And do I get a say in any of this?”

  “Baby, without you, there is no list. Where else am I going to find someone so talented, hot, and smart? How else am I going to learn how to make a cheese soufflé that will wow the neighbors?”

  He waiting for her to slap him down or dismiss the compliments, but Jane only kissed him, her eyes soft.

  “Aw. You say the sweetes
t things. Don’t let me forget, I need to call Esme in the morning.”

  Progress.

  Wes rolled her under him, relishing the give of her soft curves.

  “We’ll take it slow. I want you to be happy with me and my kind, Jane.”

  He sucked in a breath as his cock found the soft heat between her thighs.

  “Hold on, big boy. I need a nap,” said Jane, giggling.

  “You’ll barely notice me, I promise.”

  “Oh, there’s an incentive.”

  Jane tugged him down next to her, snuggling into his arms again. Wes relaxed. He could wait a little while. They had plenty of time. The sounds of the orgy outside were muffled now, and Wes knew the lust spell was wearing off. Soon the ballroom would be empty save for the cleaning crew and they could make their escape, but it was toasty and comfortable in their little fridge. Might as well wait it out.

  “Think I’m falling in love with you, Jane,” he murmured, “Don’t freak.”

  “’Kay,” she replied, totally out of it, “Me too.”

  Wes just grinned. He’d be sure to remind her in the morning.

  With a soft kiss, he followed her into dreamland.

  THE END

  PASSION AND PUMPKINS

  CASS WEBSTER SHUT THE door on the last of her sisters with a decisive click and sternly ordered the house to behave itself. Naturally, the stately Victorian, still on an architectural high from having four powerful witchy whirlwinds over for brunch, completely ignored her. Doors and cupboards flapped, drawers opened and closed, and the lights flickered out a rhythm that might have been a samba.

  Feeling headachy and tight with pent-up magic, Cass sank into her favorite overstuffed chair and rubbed her temples.

  A week of peace and quiet, at last.

  It had taken every last ounce of stubbornness to convince the girls that joining them for the annual Halloween clan reunion in Ireland was a bad idea. Her powers were still too new, too uncontrollable, and all Cass wanted was to make bats out of construction paper with her third-graders, lounge on the porch swing with a mug of hot cider and a good book, and daydream about a certain sexy, green-eyed neighbor down the block.

  Thinking about the reunion, Cass shuddered. The clan was huge – a crazy and powerful blend of witches and warlocks, half-fairies, elves, goblins, and so forth, who all descended on a crumbling Irish castle for a week of revelry away from oblivious mortals along with their spouses, friends, and significant whatevers. It was loud, bawdy, and they couldn’t get through the week without at least one orgy or someone being set on fire or turned into a butter churn or something equally problematic. Cass loved her extended family, but a small dose went a long way.

  Brooding, Cass took a deep breath and attempted to conjure up a cup of tea.

  SNAP!

  A teabag and a frying pan plopped into her lap and she sighed.

  I suppose that’s progress.

  Cass had grown up without powers, which was a great source of humiliation for the shy little girl and the family at large. Her sisters alternately tormented her and stood up for her – seemingly a full mortal, she made an easy target. Cass wrinkled her nose, remembering nasty hexes and humiliating transformations. The goat incident had been the worst. Her father was baffled and upset, but her mother just patted her knee and reassured her – it would all work itself out eventually. Cass grew up not fitting in anywhere, having to hide her family’s secret from the world, but not being able to relate to the thrill of great power at her fingertips. And so she did her best to carve out a perfectly normal life for herself. She loved being a teacher, she loved her little New England village, and aside from the occasional family magical disaster, life was blessedly ordinary.

  Until the incident.

  Two weeks ago, on a frigid morning, Cass had been making breakfast and listening to the sound of Tom Owens chopping firewood in his backyard a few houses down. One moment she was dreamily thinking about the hard muscles of his shoulders under a thin t-shirt as he hefted the axe, about how those gorgeous rough hands would feel on the sensitive flesh between her thighs, and the next moment – POP! – she was standing ten feet behind him, in her pajamas, holding a tea kettle. Completely shocked, she’d rushed home before he could spot her and called her family in an absolute panic.

  They were thrilled. Beyond thrilled. Her mother couldn’t stop crying, and her father gruffly informed her that he always knew she had it in her. Her sisters had been celebrating ever since.

  Cass, on the other hand, was spooked. Once the door was opened, her being was flooded with magic that she had almost no control over, that worsened when she was upset or emotional. Her sisters were dismissive, reassuring her that it just took practice, and ready to drag her off to magic-soaked revelry in Ireland. Cass dug her heels in. This was a small community, with everyone in everyone else’s business. She had a hard enough time explaining away the occasional magical nonsense that inevitably occurred when her family visited. Now all she wanted was to avoid accidentally turning one of her students into a guppy while she got a hold of her new abilities.

  Magic or no, Cass had errands to run. Her stomach jumped a little at the thought of the first item on her list. She pulled on a blue velvet jumper that brought out the glints in her straight black hair and darkened her eyes to violet, along with her favorite knee-high boots.

  Maybe he’ll notice.

  Cass dismissed the foolish thought, grabbed a jacket and scarf, and headed out the door. The house was calming down now, with only a few lingering cupboards banging in the kitchen. It was a beautiful fall day as Cass made the short walk down the street to the Owens’ house. Leaves carpeted the sidewalk in bright orange and red splotches, and her neighbors nodded a greeting as she passed. They were busy erecting a bandstand in the middle of the street for the annual Halloween block party that night. Cass usually hung back from the party, enjoying the music and festivities from afar.

  Feeling a little breathless, Cass stepped up to Tom’s gate, where neighbors were lined up, waiting for a chance to make their selection from the pumpkin patch. There had been an Owens living on this property for the last hundred years, and when Tom had inherited the house from his parents, who moved to Florida, he’d kept up the family nursery business and the pumpkin patch, which both brought visitors from miles around. In one corner of the massive lot, next to the greenhouse, Tom’s special prize-winning patch was roped off from the rest, the beautiful gourds nurtured with passionate attention to detail. Cass shivered at the thought of Tom running his hands over the smooth orange surfaces with the tenderness of a lover.

  “Cass!”

  She pulled herself together as Tom stepped forward. He was tall and broad, and as always, Cass had to force herself not to take a step backward when he approached. Or a step closer. His beautiful green eyes were alive with warmth, his brown hair tousled by the chill bluster that swept along the block, skidding leaves down the street. Cass could feel the sparks running along her nerve endings and tried to ignore them. So what if the guy was warm and funny and intelligent, and filled out a pair of jeans in a way that was almost criminal? Relationships with mortals were a bad idea, and relationships with her own kind were always doomed from the start – warlocks apparently didn’t want a girlfriend who exhibited all the magical prowess of a turnip. It wouldn’t be an issue from now on, but the past snobbery left a bad taste in her mouth. And standing in front of her was everything she couldn’t have.

  And he can have any woman he wants, she reminded herself. Why the gorgeous man didn’t have a girlfriend was a mystery. He was straight. He was available. Every unattached woman and bored housewife in the neighborhood went out of their way to try and snag his attention. Especially Viola Perkins, recently divorced for the third time and aggressive in a way Cass could never envision being herself. And she couldn’t keep his hands off of him.

  That bitch. Cass couldn’t even bring herself to feel guilty for the observation.

  Tom touched her arm in
greeting.

  “Hi.” She almost sounded normal, as though the innocent press of his hand to her skin didn’t make her meltingly hot.

  “Did you come to pick out a pumpkin?” He grinned.

  “I just wanted to make sure it was still okay to bring the kids by on Monday.”

  “Of course. They can have as many as they want. I’ll save your class the good ones.” He winked at her, and she blushed.

  “It’s so nice of you to do this every year.”

  “Who am I to mess with tradition? My great-grandfather gave out pumpkins once upon a time. It makes the kids happy and it’s good for business.”

  Cass took in the long line of contented customers, many of whom pocketed a business card for the nursery on their way out.

  “I can see that.”

  “Besides, the temperature’s dropping. If I don’t give them away, the cold will get ‘em. Harvest Festival is in a couple of weeks, and I’m hoping the weather holds out. I think I’ve got some winners this year.”

  Cass smiled at the glee in his voice. Tom’s love for his prized pumpkins was well known. She glanced at the beautiful orange monsters in the corner of the lot.

  “They’re beautiful. I’m sure you’ll win.”

  “Thanks.”

  The warmth in his smile sent a rush of heat and magic through her body, as an extra-strong surge of magical wind kicked up. Behind them, the party organizers lunged at tarps and flyers, trying to keep everything held down.

  Not now, Cass groaned internally.

  Her scarf whipped from her throat to smack Tom in the face. He clawed away a mouthful of wool, chuckling, and settled the rebellious material back around her neck.

  Cass froze, every inch of skin tingling when he didn’t stop there. He lingered, tucking the scarf in, tugging a lock of hair from its grip. The sensation of his warm fingers against her throat invoked a hard pulse of arousal in her pussy, and her heart raced as power welled up, eager to be let loose.

  “I have to go.” She stepped back.

  Tom let his hands drop, frowning.